#literally everyone should do a post like this i love seeing peoples music taste

[shatlass]

ten songs I've been listening to lately! tysm @ricketycr1cks for tagging me! :D

Heard this for the first time a few days ago and it's changed me as a person xoxo

2. fav song on the new fob album (on repeat while i finish my macden edit)

3. emo drama part 1

4. emo drama part 2 (also on repeat for an edit smh)

5. nothing to say bout this one except every morning i wake up and this is playing in my head

6. i'm on an emo kick lately if u couldn't tell

7. am i a masochist!!!

8. coming out as a swiftie. it took everything in me to not make her half this list

9. i don't even love this but i can't stop listening to it and scream-singing along

10. THEE you ever been in a storm wally song

tagging @number-one-hog-hater @foolofafuckingtook @chaotictomtom @denfucker @mare-bare @cutemeat @queendweeb and anyone/everyone who feels like it ):)

[kyosopp]

❝  p1harmony as you bestfriends (them crushing on you) !!  ❞

warnings !! p1h being haters, intak lowkey out to get you, jiung indoctrinating you, soul being too cute for his own good, jongseob being head over heels ngl.

　　　　　　　　　━━━━❰･❉･❱━━━━

❪  ❥ .   yoon keeho,  윤기호  ❫

you and keeho became friends pretty early on in your teen years. the two of you initially met when keeho auditioned for fnc, you were there supporting your friend who was auditioning for the company and the two of you instantly clicked.

keeho always has something to say. this guy is not one for censorship over his personality, especially around you.

will say whatever he wants around you, even to your face. if it needs to he said, it will be said.

keeho introduced you to the boys after a couple weeks of their debut preparations, whilst himself and soul are like father and son, you also had a little attachment.

jongseob immediately cuddled up to you upon realising he wouldn’t get teased by you as heavily as he would with the others.

commence the crush allegations on seobie.

keeho is pretty protective, not necessarily overprotective but when it comes to you he will want his arms intertwined with yours in crowded areas (if you want) or for you to walk in front of him so he can see you.

he will send you selfies asking if he looks good and which ones he should post for fans on instagram.

older people think the two of you are dating.

keeho will not hesitate to tease you, or poke fun at you. he’s always judging you when you do something stupid but will he the first to shower you with compliments when you succeed or impress him.

❪  ❥ .   choi taeyang,  최태양  ❫

king of bullying his friends

will not hesitate to randomly push you into people you don’t know forcing you to profusely apologise while he laughs and runs off, puts you on the spot in front of food venders

if you even mutter that you think someone is attractive you better watch your back because taeyang is ruining any chance you have with them.

with that being said, he is insanely overprotective of you.

unlike keeho, taeyang doesn’t give you a choice on whether or not he’s holding your arm or not. he’ll randomly grab your wrist and pull you through crowded areas and hold your arm throughout the night.

when he’s not feeling evil and he actually wants to make memories you wont have to cover your face for during the retelling he’s the sweetest man alive.

randomly does things for you, gets you new bottles of water when he notices you’re done.

of course he’s sprinkled in loving insults (just the theo way)

❪  ❥ .   choi jiung,  최지웅  ❫

he treats you like you’re his favourite person in the world, which you probably are because you’re kind of the only person outside of the members he talks to daily.

he likes to paint your nails for you. occasionally complains about you getting your nails done professionally when he’s literally always in your shadow.

and just because you’re his favourite person doesn’t mean he’s not gonna be teasing you.

he will purposely indoctrinate you into listening to his music taste.

randomly clings to you then shoves you off him because he’a suddenly icked out by human interaction.

probably doesn’t want the boys to meet you too often because he’s worried you’ll like them more and he’ll be forgotten.

then he realises you’re everyones second jongseob so he has nothing to worry about.

❪  ❥ .   hwang intak,  황인탁  ❫

he’ll randomly talk to you about his celebrity crushes when you’re focusing on something but if you ever opened your mouth about mr. big matthew he’ll tell you to stop drooling over a man.

i mean, bm or not, don’t go drooling over a MAN.

he’s kinda icked out by the fact you’re into men. (ngl i see intak as a man hater, because it makes men mad)

he gets really excited when your plans work out together.

will randomly grab your hand and drag you down the street ignoring your pleas for him to slow down.

if this man gets a hold of a shopping cart he’s forcing you into it and pushing you down a hill.

no one knows if he likes you or wants you dead.

youll get a rare compliment from him when he’s feeling nice.

you bring his inner child out.

❪  ❥ .   haku shota,  白翔太  ❫

you met shota through jongseob after p1h’s debut, and for awhile seob refused to give you shota’s phone number and vice versa.

jongseob was tryna save you from the pain of tryna figure out his emojis

theo gave it to you to see how you’d survive.

you became shota’s best friend because you were able to figure out his communication will only slight help from him.

he’ll randomly speak to you in broken english or fluent japanese knowing you’re either confused on what he said or why he changed languages

stares at you in silence for no reason

enjoys getting to be silent and himself around you.

he likes when you ramble on about stuff and he gets to listen to you talk. he’s talked to jongseob about his liking towards your voice.

he’s the only nice one ngl.

❪  ❥ .   kim jongseob,  김종섭  ❫

being seobie’s best friend means that you’re obligated (by law) to play shooter games with him, if he’s too lazy to scavange around for his phone he will grab yours.

purely to play a shooter game he downloaded two weeks ago.

he makes cute usernames for you and gets you to high levels just because he can

(half of your users are higher prestige than his own)

you are like two peas in a pod, always going out to eat together, shopping together, when he’s making music you’re there helping, you dance together, watch the same shoes.

best friends with seobie means everything is done together

if either of you watch a show alone it’s being rewatched together.

randomly shows you affection, random hugs, holding your pinky, fixing your jewery when they’re not straight.

he’s made countless songs for you.

@ kyosopp | do not plagiarise, copy or brand my work as your own

[cherriesformatt]

a day || matt sturniolo

matt x fem!reader

summary: what would a typical day as Matt's girlfriend would look like

warnings: pure fluff

word count: 1,6k

a/n: idk let me know how I did English is not my first language but I am working on it

I was on my way from a long, Friday, morning meeting and all I was thinking about was going back to bed and never leaving it again. My week started with my car breaking down out of nowhere, then I got my period (which is not as bad when you think about it because it would be worse if I didn't get it), and then I had an actual meeting, in an actual office, with actual people (I usually work from home in my pajamas). 

I had to drive my boyfriend's car to the meeting downtown. I am glad that I could, but let me tell you one thing, my boyfriend's car is giant and to park this lady downtown I needed to leave 30 minutes early. 

chris 🦋:

waiting for u outside thx for picking me up kid ❤️

"oh fuck" I said to myself as I quickly did a U-turn before it was too late. Was it safe? No. Did everyone survive? Yes.

I totally forgot that I was supposed to pick up Chris from his own meeting since Matt couldn't because I had their car. I dialed Chrise's number.

"hi, ur okay?" he asked. 

"yes, I just might or might not forgot to pick you up so I'll be there in 15 okay? I'm sorry I had a rough morning..." 

"Bro no worries I'll pick up some coffee while I wait and you drive safe okay?" I smiled because wasn't he the best? He doesn't even drink coffee. 

"Okay I'll see you there"

I ended the call and typed Chris's location. It wasn't that bad with the traffic so I was there in less than 15 minutes. 

I was able to park where he was waiting so he got into the passenger seat and smiled at me while I started driving again. I really want to be home. 

"I would say good morning but I'll keep that to myself. Got you an americano and banana bread" He put my coffee in the cup holder and threw his backpack on the back seat. 

"Thank you, that's really sweet, I am literally half dead so that will help" I laughed and took a sip of my coffee. 

"I still think that my brother is dating a weirdo, how can you even drink it black and unsweetened?" Chris looks at me with a disgusted face. 

"You are all literally bunch of weirdos so I just matched the energy you know" I blinked at him and stopped on the red. 

"How was your meeting? New fresh love is gonna be fire. I got the drafts in my mail this morning. Did not change a thing. You and the team did great" I said and smiled at him. 

I was a graphic designer and helped Chris at the beginning of his brand, but I did not really want to work for him so I just help sometimes if it's needed. I am really happy that he still likes to know what I think about the projects tho. I also used to work for Laura but not anymore. That's basically how we all met. I quit after me and Matt started to be a thing. 

"I know right? Well, I knew you will love it. The meeting was great, we should be able to make everything work by the end of the month. And guess what... I actually got samples and I have a pink set for you kid" 

"Honestly... made my day, I am going to wear it for everything now" I laughed.

"Just don't post it yet" He said and started to click things on the car's screen.

"Just use my phone for music" I gave him my phone and he typed my code and put our favorite song by lil skies on. 

"Still can't believe I memorized Niall Horan's birthday just to get to your phone" 

I blinked at him and started rapping with the song. I loved make a toast. Music taste is probably one of the things that made my and Chris's bond strong. Don't get me wrong I love Nick as much as I do Chris, but he just always gets me and we were best friends since day one. The funny thing is that me and Matt did not really liked each other at first. 

The ride home made my mood better. We sang and laugh, I wasn't tired of my life that much anymore. I took my shoes off while holding all of my stuff. Matt was on the couch watching something while we made our way up the stairs. 

"Hi baby... How was it?" He asked as soon as he saw me.

"Crap, I am going to call Laura to take me back" I laughed and put my stuff on the table and went to wash my hands in the kitchen sink. I then walked up to Matt and just threw myself next to him to cuddle his side. 

He kissed my forehead and started to rub my back. 

"I am going to take a nice nap, you kids have fun but not too much" Chris waved at us and went back down the stairs to his room. 

Matt rolled his eyes and kissed my head again. 

"How about we do something nice together? Nick is going to come home with Madi soon, I think, and that means laud. We could go to that beach you like and just get food and watch the sunset later" He asked.

All I was thinking about was his cold hand on my back and how much I just loved that man. He knew exactly what I needed.

"Yes, please. I just need to change. I wore a bra man, can you believe this?" I sit back up. 

He laughed at me and shook his head. 

"Go then," He said patting my thigh. 

I went to put my new fresh love set in Matt's bedroom, used the bathroom and when I was ready we went out.

"Wow, so it's your car now, huh?" Matt started to change the mirrors and seat but he also raised his eyebrows looking at my stuff next to the shift gear. 

"Baby it's only essentials to drive, okay?" I smiled and got comfortable in the passenger seat. 

We drove to get food and dessert. The weather was perfect to just spend an entire afternoon on the beach. Boys did not have any work plans today so I knew Matt was all mine for the rest of the day.

We sat on the beach, had our food, and just talked or cuddled in comfortable silence. That's what I mostly love about spending time with Matt. We could just sit the whole day without a word and be alright with it, but also we could talk for hours and we would always have something to talk about.

"I love you Matty, thanks for taking me to the beach. This new project sucks but I know it's going to be better after that. I really needed just you today" 

I kissed his sweet lips. He tasted like the cherry Pepsi that we just had. He pulled me into his lap and slid his hands under my hoodie while he kissed me back. 

I rested my forehead on his as I pulled away and smiled. 

"Anything for my girl, I love you kid" He kissed my nose and I just wrapped myself around his body.

"I am not moving, you might as well carry me to your car like this" I said into his neck. 

He laughed at that and hugged me back.

"Or we can just stay here" He lay back down on the blanket. 

"I promised your brother that we are going to watch Criminal Minds with him tho" I said.

"Sometimes I just wish you and Chris weren't the same person y/n..." He joked and looked at his phone, holding it above my head.

"Let's go back after sunset in that case baby"

We did watch the sunset, my favorite part of the day. We came back home and spent time with his brothers as I had promised Chris. 

"Spend the night?" Matt whispered in my ear while the last episode for tonight ended. 

I smiled and nodded. I was off tomorrow and did not want him to drive me home that late anyway.

We said goodnight and went to his room. 

"I will go take a shower" I said and opened his drawer to take a pair of boxers and a T-shirt. 

"Go ahead, I went shopping while you were gone. I did restock your basket under the sink. I hope I did it right" He scratched his neck looking at me.

I had my stuff here, but I usually did the restock. Especially my period stuff under the sink.

"Matt...you did not have to do that, thank you, baby" I said pouting my lips.

"I wanted to, I want you to feel comfortable here. Not only you tho, all our girlfriends that come to our house. It's great that you did the basket and stuff" He smiled and I kissed his cheek.

"You are too sweet Matthew"

I went to the bathroom, when I was done he went to take a shower while I waited in his bed scrolling on TikTok.

When Matt came back from the bathroom I looked at him. He was wearing just his pajama pants. 

"Should I just say what all of the girls in my books would say? Matthew, you are such a tease" I wiggled my eyebrows at him.

"Oh my god, would you stop?" He got into bed laughing at what I said. 

"You love me for that" I put my phone on the nightstand and rested my head on his chest.

"Goodnight Matt" I closed my eyes.

He turned the lights off and tucked us in with the blanket. 

"Goodnight sweet girl" He kissed my head while I was already half asleep after this long day.

The best way to end the day is knowing that I will wake up in his arms the next morning. 

[bitchslapblastoids]

dumb fic thoughts that are going to sound whiney and like personal complaints but i promise are really me talking big picture about the state of fic engagement on ao3. and i know i've been on this soapbox before and I KNOW everyone who follows me is a homie so i’m really just old man yells at skying about this again, but just let me say all the quiet parts out loud please. I do not wish to be aloof and demure.

1. hits to kudos ratios are so fucking bleak. and i don't mean wrt my own fics, i mean in general, the two numbers side by side is always so dismal to see. hits are kind of a meaningless metric, esp for chaptered fics and for fics that people return to to reread, so i wish ao3 just wouldn't publish them, because it sets up this weird pair of numbers for people to compare and jump to conclusions based upon, even though they aren't actually informative for anyone. Why do I want to know how many people clicked on something? That doesn’t tell me anything.

2. That being said (to make it about me now), I know I’m a good fic writer. and while obviously my fic isn’t going to be to everyone’s taste (puppet smut isn’t a crowdpleaser wym??), I feel pretty confident that out of the 250+ people who have clicked on my brand new fic so far, more than just 17 of them must’ve liked it. which brings me to…

3. people can get so cagey about leaving kudos on explicit fics. this is a time-tested truth. let's let go of this phenomenon! I promise no one's stalking where you've left kudos. if they are, they're a freak. and if they're judging you, they're especially a freak because HEY LOOK, they wouldn’t have seen it if they weren’t on that fic too lol! let's all try and shake off these fucking shackles of sexual shame and stigma.

4. similarly, the # of bookmarks that i can see on an explicit fic i've posted vs the # of bookmarks the public can see is so funny. This one makes more sense to me and I can understand why bookmark choices feel more private. But i will say again, people aren't judging your bookmarks. even if it's smut! no one cares what you get horny about and probably the only reason they'd be looking is bc they trust your judgment and they'd like to get horny about it too lol.

5. lack of feedback/interaction is such a scourge. We all gotta fucking engage with the writers we like! it means so much and it's such a great way to build a mutually supportive community. Also, people who have left comments on my fic and vice versa are the people i became most immediately PALS with on here. It’s a lovely thing to do and it’s not time intensive I promise! Authors don’t seek comments for validation but more because publishing fic is sharing this thing this offering that you became so obsessive and giddy about that you had to literally create it and once it’s out you just want to be giddy and obsessive with others about it.

6. Obvs no one should feel obligated to leave kudos or bookmark or comment on anything they don’t like. Be a discerning reader and engage with what brings you joy! There’s a ton of shlock out there. No one has to pretend to like it all. But societally I feel like we’ve become such selfish consumers - I see it in streaming our favorite music for .0000000000000000000000000000002 cents, in the erosion of concert etiquette, in the rabid sense of entitlement towards celebrities’ attention and time, in the uncredited circulation of other people’s art without a second thought, and in the way apparently only ~10% of readers leave kudos, which are a paltry way for an author to get a sense if someone liked something enough to take the most bare bones possible step of simply tapping a button (you don't even have to have an account! you can leave kudos as a guest!). that's a bummer. I don’t want fandom to be a selfish one-sided space where we’re just taking what we want instead of connecting or building together.

Ok, that’s all ✌️✌️✌️

[iguessitsjustme]

Love Sea Ep 10 Thoughts

We have finally made it to the end of the show. I still have not watched episode 8 and I doubt I ever will. From what I have heard, the show and the story actually makes more sense to me than it does to people who have seen episode 8. That’s crazy. Anyway, I just made lunch and I got my juice so it’s time to watch. As always, here’s the disclaimer that I pretty harshly critique this show. If you think that will make you angry, don’t click the read more. Disclaimer done, let’s goooo:

Okay before I even start, how the hell do I have zits on the back of my neck. Where did these bad boys come from? One is right on my hairline. Hello? Go away.

Okay okay okay. I am going to go into this with an open mind actually. I am too tired and exhausted and sick to not at least try to enjoy this show. Also I was way too verbose for episode 9 and all of my thoughts were actually too long for tumblr. I ran out of characters. So gonna have to try to reign that in a bit today.

I beg your finest pardon but why the fuck is this episode one hour and twenty minutes long? Yeah this post is probably gonna end up too long too. Maybe I’ll just do two parts if needed. (it did not end up too long yay!)

Not gonna lie to you guys. I do love back hugs like this. As many problems as I have with this show and these characters…this? This is cute. See? I’m not always bitter! Just..most of the time.

Why mention the video clips that Rak’s dad apparently has just to say “oh it’s been taken care of. It’s not a problem.” That’s not how stories work. If you introduce a potential problem, you gotta let it be a problem or let the characters work to resolve it before it becomes a problem. Not just say “yep here’s a thing that should have been a main conflict but don’t worry. A character that only exists off screen and has only really had any sort of role for the past 2 episodes took care of it already!” Like…what?

Every day I am forced to be overstimulated by the nature of living in a city. Why do I live here I ask myself constantly? The answer is always because I can walk everywhere I need to go including to work and also because I love it. Just not…the idling trucks. The big engines. There is nowhere for the sound to go because it’s trapped by all of the tall buildings and I am on the bottom floor literally on the street. I walk out my apartment and boom. One of the busiest roads in my city. Anyway I digress. I have been overstimulated since June. The fall cannot get here fast enough.

You know I never fully understood how or when Mut fell in love with Rak. I still don’t know. I mean he was flirty on the island and they fucked but when did Mut actually fall so hard? I cannot pinpoint when his lust turned to love. It must have been a specific moment because it certainly wasn’t a slow build into love. Nope. One day Mut loves his island more than anything in the world and then he leaves it for Rak. Without a second thought. I just would like to understand when that happened. Sure, he liked Rak, but to love someone enough to give up your home? And I know he’s about to dip and go back home (without telling Rak) but I cannot figure out why he left in the first place. I know the answer is because he loves Rak but I did not see that until he actually fucking left the island. I did not see that until episode 6 when he finally maybe started respecting the barest minimum of boundaries.

Oh how this show looooooves its flashbacks. At least this one kind of makes sense. Though I wish it trusted its audience enough to know what Mut is calling back to.

Ew Vi. Mook run away girl. You deserve better.

Noisy neighbors go AWAY.

*eats my veggies* *considers blasting kpop*

*blasts Stray Kids* Congrats. Since you want to involve me in your conversation right outside my door, I get to involve you in my music taste. Just be lucky this isn’t an nc scene in Love Sea cause I’d blast that too. Make everyone uncomfortable.

Rak does not need Mut’s love to become a better person. Rak does not need love to be a better person. People are allowed to not want love for any reason. No one gets to make judgment calls on them for not wanting it. Full stop.

Surely the next words you’re gonna say are “Respect his boundaries and let him come to you when he’s ready, right? …RIGHT?

God damn it Mut.

Is Rak a dog that Mut is leaving behind? Why is he giving instructions on how to care for Rak? Rak is a grown ass adult and was fine before Mut entered his life. Like what the fuck is this?

Mut goes and says goodbye to everyone but Rak? What is with this farewell tour? Just fucking tell Rak that you respect his decision, but you can’t live like that anymore so you have to go. Don’t just…disappear from him while seeking out everyone else? What in the immaturity…

I am a bad person for laughing at Mut’s tears. But c’mon. This is just…too much. Just talk to him man. Just talk to him without trying to force your feelings on him or make him share what he’s feeling. My god. The DRAMA.

???? Boy you got a tattoo on your neck to remind you of him??? Which is it????

MAME really thought she did something with this drama. She really thought some message is landing here. It’s not. I’m bored. Just let them get together again so this can be over with my god.

A flashback to when Mut literally broke into Rak’s room…wait those aren’t the right words. He didn’t need to break in because HE HAD THE KEY when he should NOT have had the key.

Why the fuck did that get a romanticized flashback? Invading someone’s privacy is not romantic y’all what the fuck.

Well. That was a show. That I watched. Honestly, out of all of MAME’s offerings it was simultaneously the best and the worst. There was no sexual assault (that I am aware of, again I skipped episode 8). So that’s a plus. It is, however, the laziest writing I have seen from a BL in a long time. Is it a good show? No. Is it a good BL? No. Is it a good MAME show? Eh. Depends on the metrics. The story had structural issues as well as pacing issues. The cinematography needed work and that’s not something I am typically capable of noticing. The sound mixing was some of the worst I’ve heard in a BL. At least lately. The acting was fine. Actually, can someone give these actors some better roles for the love of god???? All of this to say. I am glad ViMook isn’t officially canon and I hope that Mook is able to get away from Vi cause that girl is awful. The end.

[wehrwolf]

so this week I flew across the country by myself to see my favourite band in the entire world. practically nothing went amiss. I had random interactions with lovely people. my hobbling faith in humanity has straightened its spine a bit? I’ll be cringe about this below because I want to remember, let’s have some positivity for once.

I hate that I like nissan rogues, I know the transmissions are dogshit. rented one for a day to avoid dragging luggage all over hell’s creation. sound system fucked hard. LOUD paul barker. ate hella steak, eggs and pancakes at pancake chef near seatac. alright alright alright. 

killed time before hotel check-in, visited lakeview for brandon and bruce lee, ended up perusing the cemetery with a multi-talented guy from LA for about an hour swapping perspectives, observations on the human condition and tombstone critiques. glossy black crow perched on an equally inky granite headstone embellished with a huge cross - oh my goth, bro. eric, I’m sorry your cat died, you are rad and I will try to find your music online. be water, my friend.

the fashionable gentleman who checked me into the hotel was a sweetheart, down with skinny puppy, name dropped wax trax, awesome taste in rings.

dipped out for coffee, asked directions from coffee-holding stranger in glasses to make sure I was headed the right way. ran into him the next day in my new hoodie post gig, he mentioned how he used to work at a record store in edmonton, sold records to cEvin. what? insane.

seattle has too many hills, someone should do something about this. but very walkable. always move confidently with purpose, shoulders back, mean mug, look like you want to curb-stomp god. never appear lost.

found a 24 hr cafe near the kurt cobain twin tower / frasier obelisk that served a mean breakfast and was blasting tunes at 9:30am. several compliments on my filthy rat nest hair. what is this fever dream? unwashed hair is in. pancakes are my passion.

wandered to the paramount to get my bearings, saw justin by the tour bus and that metalworker ephraim dude’s sick rusted-out mad max’d honda cr-v. meandered around for the rest of the afternoon before skuppy-prep time. incredible roast beef horseradish sandwich. cool and good.

hung out in the GA line for a while, no VIP this time, wind picked up and it was pretty cold for a may evening. ended up next to a tough looking dude during the show, chatted a bit, he was a kmfdm roadie for a few tours. said his best puppy show was new orleans, I can only imagine. he reminded me of wez from the road warrior. thank you R for the gum, it gave me a second wind.

the paramount theatre is something out of a golden fairytale, gilded to the gills. generous stage for alien abuse. fantastic acoustics. reminds me of the hippodrome. I relished irving plaza’s intimacy but the paramount was my favourite venue.  

I will never tire of seeing lead into gold. soundtrack for slowly asphyxiating in a warm tar pit but make it erotic. thank you paul barker, long-legged light of our lives.

no surge/mosh at this show- if so, I didn’t notice. the energy was on point. denver had some choice dumbasses in the crowd, no such issue here.   seattle mirrored silver spring imo, excellent all around.  I made a brief, wonky post touching on this but in denver ogre was still obviously uncomfortable. that made me feel fucked up... and quiet afterwards.  this time around he seemed in great spirits, tons of energy, spinning the mic around a bunch, writhing all over the place to thwart tormentor!dustin (our boy is flexible). everyone was going wild, we all yelled ourselves hoarse. got to use their A setup with the big projection sheet. justin and cEv on risers.

side note: big love to matthew for his crowd engagement and bubbly enthusiasm this entire tour. honestly he comes off as just a literal cinnamon roll of a guy and the tour diaries have been a real treat. at the end he reflected on otherness and a need to be kind to one another in an unkind world, which really oddly summed up my seattle adventure... and the general vibe of skinny puppy’s unique fans (as others have mentioned here far more eloquently).

also real talk does ogre do belly dancing or something BECAUSE jesus fucking christ man he makes my mind literally fucking blank with all that fluid gyration absolutely knuckle dragging cave woman looney toons wolf beating the shit out of itself with a hammer feral. he knows what he’s doing too, god bless him. there were gals behind me that just started SHRIEKING like it was beatlemania, fucking ogremania with every slutty little hip movement (”go daddy gooo”). also like... cock grabbing causing me irreparable brain damage. then he legit straight up purposefully spit/drooled and it was just... super hOrny NOT like... mouth trauma symptom salivation (I hope? oh god.) his spit makes me insane. ok.

this was the first time I had the pleasure of hearing god’s gift (maggot). we were graced with smothered hope at earlier shows... so I think I basically experienced everything الحمد لله رب العالمين screaming. they ended with candle again, huge plus. ogre practically pranced off the stage after the encore. everyone came back out together for a heartfelt round of goodbyes. no concerts have moved me like these puppy gigs. I am so thankful, down to the marrow. there are probably other details but I have slept ~two hours in the past 48 so...   ✌️👽

[aardvaark]

silly little post of me explaining what main song i associate with each of the following characters i like or relate to :) feel free to tell me if you have a song for one of them or someone else!!

/disclaimer: this doesn’t really reflect my music taste or every character i like, it’s just for fun and i amn. so so sensitive. be kind i beg/

characters: dr "bones" brennan, emily prentiss, camille preaker, sarah reese, root (poi), faith lehane, dr lisa cuddy, parker (leverage)

dr temperance "bones" brennan (bones): literally so hard for me to pick a song for her for some reason. she’s just not a person who can be described in a song, idk. people watching by conan gray would cover her whole relationship with booth. a pearl by mitski, too. easy on me by adele is a lot about her feelings. foreigners god by hozier really reminds me of her too. first love/late spring by mitski is kind of her life just before she and booth were together, "please hurry leave me, i can’t breathe/please don’t say you love me".

emily prentiss (criminal minds): okay there’s two for prentiss that i feel very strongly about. firstly, brand new city by mitski. especially during the doyle arc, the lines "i think my fate is losing its patience/i think the ground is pulling me down" are so relevant. but mainly because prentiss does indeed run away and "move to a brand new city" whenever she’s cornered. from interpol to the bau, from the bau to france, from france to the bau again, the bau to interpol (england?) again, back to the bau. and then she starts packing her house up when she gets in trouble again, and spencer has to talk her down. so the words "i should move to a brand new city/and teach myself how to die" is just… so her. secondly, bad things by cults. "bad things happen to the people you love/and you find yourself praying up to heaven above/but honestly i’ve never had much sympathy/cause those bad things? i always saw them coming for me"… do i even need to explain further? she def feels doomed in her early seasons, and then the "bad things" being all the cases, and "praying up to heaven above" reminds me of her religious trauma.

camille preaker (sharp objects): dollhouse by melanie martinez. for uh. the obvious reason, if you’ve read sharp objects or seen the mini series adaptation lol. her sister loves that dollhouse. but also because the dollhouse in the story and the dollhouse metaphor in the song are very similar. the idea of a picture-perfect family being fake or "plastic", in a beautiful house that really contains so many years of suffering for her, "everyone thinks that we’re perfect/please don’t let them look through the curtains". and of course "no one ever listens" and "i see things that nobody else sees… the town sees her mother’s facade of perfection, but she sees the horrific things that went down behind the scenes.

dr sarah reese (chicago med): i am not a robot by marina. literally just the sentiment of "i am not a robot"… they all treat her like she’s just a medicine machine and/or a thing that needs to be fixed. i wish she was on the show long enough to resolve that. i wish she had yelled at them not to treat her like that.

root (person of interest): gasoline by halsey. literally just her life. "you are part of a machine" literally… she’s the interface of The Machine. lol. but also arms tonite by mother mother… she would say all that to shaw without blinking. "don’t you think it’s kind of cute/that i died right inside your arms tonight" like tell me that she wouldn’t say that to shaw!! but THE root x shaw song is like real people do by hozier.

faith lehane (buffy thé vampire slayer): the archer by taylor swift. not a "swiftie" or whatever they call it, but this song does fit faith. "i ride off alone/i never grew up/it’s getting so old" cause she literally has no one tbh, and she just drags buffy down but she can’t help it. "and all of my heroes die all alone" being the Slayer seems to mean being alone, means dying young. a heroic death, but a death nonetheless. it’s her fate. what a horrible thing for a teenage girl to already know. "cause all of my enemies started out friends" well yeah the scooby gang. "i’m ready for combat/i say i don’t want that but what if i do?" her Big Problem was always really that she liked the fight too much. and then obviously "i’ve been the archer/and i’ve been the prey" cause she’s always stuck between being this incredible hero who kills vampires and being a scared child who was thrown into a war, between being supported by her fellow Slayer and being the enemy. i imagine her being the narrator and the "you" in the song being buffy.

dr lisa cuddy (house md): my alcoholic friends by the dresden dolls. the friends being house obviously. i feel like the vagueness and confusing sorta lyrics represent how we don’t actually know all that much about her past so it can be ambiguously interpreted. but the last verse is what makes it her song. "should i choose a noble occupation?" shes a doctor. "if i did, i’d only show up late and/sick and they would stare at me with hatred" she often feels clearly overwhelmed with her work, with the decisions she’s forced to make, with working in a place of so much death… the doctors talk about her, obviously especially house. they do stare at her in one scene and that always comes to mind but explaining that would be spoiling things lol. "my only natural talent’s wasted/on my alcoholic friends" her natural talent of being the only person to even be able to remotely rein in house, and she wastes her time dealing with his problems so much. in the earlier seasons especially, she really doesn’t get to have a life - she is too well suited to working in her role and dealing with house, and she basically has to babysit house all the time.

parker (leverage): i haven’t finished this show, in fact i’ve only recently started it, so i don’t know exactly. but i’m obsessed with parker, she’s so me!! rn i would say that some songs fitting her would be - hermit the frog by marina (vibes), bubble gum by clairo (her and hardison/sad vibe when ppl tell her she’s weird or needs to stop talking), treehouse by alex g (vibes), my ordinary life by the living tombstone (she’d listen to it while stealing), boy in the bubble by alec benjamin (her youth), liability by lorde (ppl say she’s crazy and a liability), a mask of my own face by lemon demon ("who’s alice white?"), i need to be alone by girl in red (she always likes being alone lol), this is home by cavetown (her youth), and are you bored yet? by wallows + clairo (vibes).

[lehhoh7822]

I posted 3,855 times in 2022

That's 3,609 more posts than 2021!

648 posts created (17%)

3,207 posts reblogged (83%)

Blogs I reblogged the most:

@proudfreakmetarusonniku

@ruffboijuliaburnsides

@phantoids

@journal-number-3

@las-nevadas-corporate

I tagged 1,355 of my posts in 2022

#lr likes your art - 182 posts

#dsmp - 75 posts

#ua reblogs - 47 posts

#lehhohgoeszoom - 34 posts

#cdc reblogs - 29 posts

#cw food - 29 posts

#haha - 27 posts

#yeah - 27 posts

#passing ships - 27 posts

#creb - 26 posts

Longest Tag: 137 characters

#you know i don’t remember what an ost is but there are many people who go by ranboo and followers knowing your music taste isn’t atypical

My Top Posts in 2022:

#5

@americans how many blazes are you getting???

i see a lot of post complaining about blazed posts but im in australia so ive gotten literally like none

15 notes - Posted September 26, 2022

#4

you know i rewatched the whole minecraft bu the sky is eating the world thing where mr soot kept saying that he was being an iron slut

i am beign a whore for copper. i need more fucking copper. 64 of those only translate to 7 blocks (and there should be an extra one but there isn;t because... maht?)

listen I have this massive room and it’s made of snow. and copper. 

16 notes - Posted August 31, 2022

#3

“At this rate I see literally no difference between kicking your ass out of the balcony and not.” oh my god.

this is the bullshit that keeps my love of centricide going

how would one describe centricide, genuinely? EDIT: oh my god I am so sorry I forgot to mention this is a quote from the politi-girl fanfic series on ao3 sorry for forgetting to give credit to @politigirls on ao3

19 notes - Posted July 7, 2022

#2

you know, with all this reboot stuff, i just want to say that the ccs... idk, i feel like they dont completely get how funky the fans are. they’ll be real upset that you tore away the plot and characters and storylines they drew to love with a potential of everything failing more, and many will pull away

but even more so, i think many will stay.

im not sure if they realise that dsmp is really important to a lot of people, and how upsetting it would be to have it torn away after waiting and being paitient, endless fan content and community based around a plot that essentially got “Abandoned Work: Unfinished or Discontinued” slapped on it, but its important enough that even when you mock your fans for being there, even when you fuck them over, etc, etc, they will still watch because it was so good and they care enough and hope enough that theyll keep going until you reach really really shit

yeah lol. idk man

25 notes - Posted July 10, 2022

My #1 post of 2022

for me specifically as a teenager who has asthma, i just. maybe its just me, but i swear it can’t be. asthma is this frustrating creature who you get very sick of very quickly. when i have an asthma attack, i might be experiencing like. physcial struggle to breathe but cognitively im just annoyed and tired, and the most emotional reaction you’ll probably get out of me is just frustration or a little bit of fear if it goes on a little bit too long.

everyone is prickish about it, when i was younger i could never participate in sport and people thought i was so lucky when everything just hurt and my head was always light and the office ladies fucking despised me. no one wants to call it a real disability (what else is it? I dare you, tell me what a disability is), it makes you scared to do things, you dont want to run that race or try that sport because you know you won’t be able to do it. you need breaks while running. inhalers are more expensive the price stacks up over time 

like when i have an asthma attack, i literally cannot just breathe. that is the entire problem. i cannot do breathing exercises, it does not matter whehter or not i look you in the eyes, i need the medication for my chronic illness. 

i had this whole thing where a bunch of student in primary school like year 5-6 made videos about me, mocking me and calling me asthma attack girl, and pretending to have asthma attacks to be like look at (name) and how much shes faking!! and putting them online and they got a lot of shares. 

“stop doing that stupid wheezing thing and just breathe” “why are you coughing like that? don’t you want to breathe?” “look at me, no, NO, HEY, HEY, look at me and breathe in- NO NO, BREATHE in and hey no-” “you just lost control of yourself, you need to stay in control and not give in to the asthma”

like. fuck you. treat us with respect. also because your ableism is easy to clown on. 

91 notes - Posted October 16, 2022

Get your Tumblr 2022 Year in Review →

[echoesofadream]

i don't "ship my biases", since jin is my bias. it just seems to be a trend that people who happen to ship taekook also mysteriously happen to be overly critical of jimin and write huge think pieces about how they "don't haaaaate jimin, no, no... but-" yes, you can give constructive criticism but that's his voice. if you like it, great, if not, then why are you here? why are you listening to bts?

taekook love jimin so much and i feel as if none of you guys see that and it's frustrating.

ahhhhh here we go. i knew this would happen hence the overly clear explainations i wrote lest i be taken for an anti. but ill humor you because its fun for me too.

i should have been more clear in my wording, but i felt like i had already written too much to a very small audience to bother clarifying myself. What i meant is that when it comes to stanning artists you are bound to have favorites and for many of us, myself included, this is musically/artistically founded. But also based on things like attractiveness (which is subjective), personal taste, the artists personality etcetc. When you start to like this person more than the other it creates a kind of positive feedback loop; exposure to the person and the thing you liked about the person in the first place makes you like them more and more as you get to know them, and the things you liked you start to love even more because you start to love the person these qualities belong to more. So if i had liked jimins voice more in the beginning i would probably have liked him more overall by now and then his voice would have been even better to me. Basically!

And yeah i only have one bias as well, but taekook are my favorite members, so like i thinks its only natural that i like their relationship most, too, dont you think? So maybe thats not the case for everyone and maybe i overgeneralized but i do think that for most ex. jikookers that jimin and jungkook are their two favorite members. 🤷‍♀️ edit: at least they probably prefer them over taehyung which i feel is only natural due to the above

I am not overly critical of jimin i am critical of all members including taehyung and jungkook. You have seen one post of me where i said i didnt like jimins new song. Do you know my full history of what ive said or thought about the members? In fact i have probably said more critical things about both taehyung and jungkook simply because i am most invested in them. The fact that im even mentioning jimin shows i have an investment in him as well doesnt it? I wanted vibe to be good. I made a post about that tho i think its deleted now. I understand taekookers can be overly critical of jimin but you have no basis for saying that about me. Im just voicing my opinions on my own blog.

Not sure what taekook loving jimin has to do with any of this. Like it feels surreal that you are telling me that. Like i know? I talk about vminkook all the time. Especially vmin because i have a personal preference that makes me for some reason like vmin more than jikook. Oh okay cancelled! Cancelled for not having equal feelings about every single member and ship!!!!!!!<- you btw

Its so funny that you are asking me why i even listen to bts when i literally yesterday made a post about why i like bts and their vocal line especially and why they stand out to me as a group. Where i literally say that if any of the members were excluded their music would be emptier and that they complete each other.

[snackhobi]

this is my part of the rockin’ around the christmas tropes collab with @yeojaa, @underthejoon @ladyartemesia, @ppersonna, @untaemedqueen, @xjoonchildx ✨ MERRY (early) CHRISTMAS Y’ALL

summary: yoongi is your favourite regular. he’s patient, polite, and predictable, a-large-black-coffee-to-go-please, no cream, no sugar, thank you. rinse and repeat. the seasons might change, but yoongi’s order stays the same.

and then one fateful day in winter, yoongi asks about the weekly specials, orders a cup of christmas and sugary sweetness, and everything starts changing.

pairing: yoongi x barista f!reader / word count: 14.8k / genre: coffeeshop!au, fluff, dash of smut (NSFW)

warnings: slow burn, terrible drink concoctions, pining, miscommunication (kind of/reader comes to incorrect conclusions based on literally nothing), the tiniest bit of swearing, heated makeouts, oral (m receiving), I think that’s it

a/n: I have a lot of people to thank: thank you to my loveliest most beautiful wife @yeojaa for the beautiful banner 🥺💖 thank you to @morndas for helping me name this fic and suggesting some of the awful weekly specials featured within 🥰 thank you to @yeoldontknow for letting me have multiple meltdowns at her and for letting me pick her brain about working in the music industry, and for helping me with plot points I wasn’t sure about!! 💕

also thank you to @hobi-gif for helping me brainstorm the original fic idea with her; she hasn’t beta’ed this fic because I am TERRIBLE and literally finished this like an hour before posting. that’s on me and not her. I am a shambles without her indomitable proof reading skills; any mistakes are down to me, and I apologise for that. I’ve only read this through like once, sorry in advance, I’m literally formatting this while I should be getting ready for work

Being a barista isn’t all bad.

Like, okay, you’re on your feet for hours at a time, the pay isn’t exactly the highest in the world, and coffee beans have a tendency to end up in the weirdest places (how did you get the light roast in your bra?)—but it’s not entirely terrible.

Here’s a (totally not comprehensive) list of good things about working at the Paradise coffee shop:

The free drinks (y’know, for taste testing purposes)

The free food (you probably eat more than you’re actually allowed, but who’s telling?)

Your coworkers (like Taehyung, who is—yep—currently shoving a whole mini panettone in his mouth)

Most of the customers are pretty nice, too (you have some lovely regulars)

(If you had to be more specific, there’s one regular in particular that you really, really like—)

(Yoongi appears like clockwork every week. Just after the Tuesday lunch rush, the bell above the door will sing out its greeting as he steps inside, ordering the same drink each and every time he’s here—a large Americano, to go, plain and simple and unadorned, no room for cream or milk, no added sugar or sweetener.)

(Yoongi really is the perfect customer. He has been from the very beginning, a point of quiet in a churning sea of hot, sweaty people all begging for frappés and milkshakes, the hottest point at the very peak of summer. The queue had been growing longer and longer, out of the doors as the blenders whirred their way through a neverending cascade of sugary, iced blends; the counters were a mess and all the baristas were running around and everything was chaos and in had walked this guy, all dark hair and dark eyes and dark clothes, even in the height of summer—you were ready for death at this point, hands sticky with syrup and apron streaked with flecks from almost every drink from the summer menu, and you’d braced yourself for some terse words, impatience and passive aggressive comments on the long wait—)

(—and this intimidating man had just patiently asked for an iced Americano, calm and quiet and polite.)

(You’d fallen a little in love, then and there. Fallen in love with that simple order, quick and easy to make, and fallen a little in love with the dichotomy of the man who looked like nothing but sharp edges being the softest customer you’d had all day. There was nothing rushed about his motions, no desperate need to get his drink and get away, no anger at having waited for so long.)

(He’d been ready to pay, too, no fumbling with his wallet or money; he’d tapped his card, easy and breezy and all lemon squeezy, but he’d left a tip in change, dropped almost thoughtlessly into the jar. He’d collected his cup with the smallest upturn to his lips, a tilt of his head, and then he’d left, other customers parting before him like the Red Sea.)

(The only thing that’s changed over the months is that the iced coffees of summer have changed into hot Americanos for the cooler months, autumn and now almost-winter, warding off the chill in the air. Everything else is the same; his dark eyes and low voice and patient smile, small but ever present, pressed lightly into the surprisingly soft line of his mouth.)

(So, yeah. Yoongi is your favourite customer. Even if you’ve barely spoken, really, the two of you dancing through the same short script each time he comes in—the longest conversation you’ve had so far is the one where you’d tentatively asked if he’d like a rewards card, and after a moment of contemplation, he’d quietly agreed.)

(You like to think that you’re Yoongi’s favourite server, too. Maybe it’s wishful thinking, but—)

(Taehyung had been stunned into speechlessness, because, to quote his words exactly: “I tried getting him to sign up for a card last time and I swear he just pretended he couldn’t hear me? He just straight up didn’t respond? What?”)

(—you know Yoongi likes you at least a little bit.)

Anyway. You’re getting off the point. Paradise is a decent place to work, the people are nice, and the building is pretty and airy and welcoming and warm, toasty and cosy in the upcoming cold of winter. It’s one of the things that keeps people coming back, that lovely atmosphere.

Another thing that people apparently love about Paradise is the constantly changing menu. It’s not enough to have seasonal menus, no—you need to have weekly specials, apparently, to keep people interested.  It’s like a gachapon, but instead of cute little capsule toys, it’s a random mix of concoctions that are hit or miss.

“Well, I liked the Peachy Keen Jelly Bean,” Taehyung says, around a mouthful of sweet bread, still chewing his way through the panettone.

“You’d be the only one,” you reply, swiping a cloth over the counters and crinkling your nose  at the pile of coffee grounds you gather. “Iced peach tea with blackberry and vanilla and cherry and watermelon syrup has got to be one of the worst things we’ve ever served.”

That had definitely been one of the misses. This week’s special, though, is far more palatable, if incredibly sweet—Crystal Snow, a white chocolate mocha with whipped cream, dusted with powdered sugar, and a crystallised sugar stick to stir in. Sugar on sugar on sugar, basically. (Your teeth ache just thinking about it.) 

But there’s always something so fun about making the winter specials, no matter how sugary they are; the smell of the sticky syrups, the swirl of cream to top off the cup, the dusting of cocoa or cinnamon, everything mulled in the sweet warmth of winter. Even if the drink you’re making is questionable, you get so excited about it, genuinely enthusiastic when you recommend them to customers, carrying everyone into the spirit of the upcoming holidays. You’d hardly describe making coffee a billion times a day fun—it’s pretty exhausting, actually—but you’ve always had a weird affection for the winter menu and the weekly specials alongside it.

You don’t upsell the drinks because you have to. You do it because you want to.

(You’re pretty good at it too. Not a flex: just a fact. Your customer service is on point.)

The only person you’ve never tried to persuade into trying something new is Yoongi. He might not be rude or short tempered, but he clearly knows what he wants, and you hate the idea of ruining the easy flow of his visits. You’re not about to embarrass yourself by asking Mr No-Cream-Or-Sugar if he’d like a drink that's nothing but cream and sugar. Asking about the rewards card had been nerve-wracking enough, even if it had been worth it for the genuinely-unintentional-but-definitely-not-unpleasant brushing of your fingers when you’d handed the card over to him.

(Okay. Look. Yoongi is patient and pleasant and polite and cute. You never thought that you’d crush on a customer, but here you are. He just… oozes masculinity in an understated, self-assured way that has you internally swooning. He looks intimidating and serious but when he smiles his eyes go soft-soft-soft, his voice a low rumble as he gives you his gentle thank you, and everything about him is just so… attractive. Even the way he holds his coffee is hot, fingers loose around the lid as he makes his way out of the café, your eyes tracing every motion as he goes. Like. Come on. Of course you’re crushing on him.)

(Just a little bit, though. Just a little bit. It’s just an itty bitty crush. A teeny weeny crush.) 

The bell above the door chimes. Your kneejerk reaction is to snap your head over to see who it is—but you hold it together, instead letting your head turn at a normal, natural pace. It’s just an unfamiliar woman, rearranging the tassels of her long scarf with one hand and holding her phone with the other as the door swings shut, and you deflate.

(... It’s a small crush, you swear. It’s not like this is around the normal time Yoongi appears and you’d thought it was going to be him. Nope. Definitely not that.)

As the woman lingers near the counter, eyes flicking between her phone and the chalkboard menu on the wall above your head, Taehyung finishes licking the panettone crumbs off his fingers.

“It’s Tuesday,” he states solemnly.

“I know?”

“It’s just past two o’clock,” he continues.

“I know,” you repeat, glancing at him quizzically. “You told me what the time was less than five minutes ago.”

“I did.”

The bell chimes again. This time, a gaggle of giggling girls come bubbling into the café, cutting you off before you can ask what Taehyung is trying to say. You go to flick your cloth at him before thinking better of it, not wanting to rain dark roast everywhere.

“Go wash your hands,” you say, just as the scarfed woman approaches the counter, ready to order. A bright smile splits your face, voice rising into its usual peppy Customer Service tone. “Hi, welcome to Paradise! How can I help you today?”

She barely glances up from her phone as she orders, asking for a latte macchiato and croissant, a distracted ‘no thanks’ when you ask if she’s interested in this week’s special. Oh well. The girls behind her, though, all seem incredibly excited when they catch wind of it; they all eagerly listen as you describe what a Crystal Snow is, your eyes lighting up as you mime piping the cream and dusting the sugar on top, laughing when they ask if they can buy extra sugar sticks to take home, because of course they can, you’d be happy to do that for them, would they like those in to-go bags? Yes, the bags are cute, aren’t they, the snowflakes are lovely, you agree.

Taehyung’s just finished wiping the steam wand when you give him the next order. You see the way his face crumples before his brows lift and his lips purse, pleading as he looks at you with big eyes, and you just roll your own eyes affectionately.

“Yes, yes, I’ll make them even though you’re meant to be on the bar, it’s fine,” you say, and Taehyung’s whole face lights up.

You’ve worked with Taehyung long enough by now to know that it takes him until at least Wednesday to memorise how to make whatever that week’s special is. And there’s not a queue, so you don’t mind taking over, pulling espresso shots and steaming milk and pouring everything together, puffing air in Taehyung’s face when he peers at your cream swirling technique. (No matter how many times you’ve tried to teach him, he’s never been able to get it right, usually just farting a mess of cream out of the nozzle and hoping for the best. Results are… mixed.) Maybe the flourish you put into dusting the sugar on top is unnecessary, but, hey. It’s fun. You smile to yourself as you give a small flick of the wrist over each drink, powdered sugar floating down like snow, and, done.

You don’t like to toot your own horn but the drinks come out Instagram perfect, each latte glass set on a tiny napkin on a saucer, sugar stick on one side, and you take a moment to admire your work.

“They’re so pretty,” Taehyung says, and your smile grows wider.

The girls all agree, cooing over the drinks in a way that only makes your smile grow even more, wide on your face. You watch as they squirrel themselves away in a corner, talking and laughing and nibbling their food and sipping at their drinks, pleased at the way their eyes widen at the first taste.

Yeah, it’s the small things that makes your time here good. Being a barista is a thankless job most of the time, as relaxed as Paradise usually is, so you try to appreciate the small things. Like having fun when you make a drink, for example. Making nice customers happy. (Having cute regulars that you can quietly ogle.)

Actually, on the note of cute regulars—

“Your 2:15 appointment is here.”

You tear your attention away from the table of girls at the sound of Taehyung’s voice. “My what—?”

There’s someone in front of the glass display, hunched as they slowly and quietly peruse the selection of pastries and food inside—and you realise with a jolt that it’s Yoongi. You have no idea how long he’s been there, so distracted with patting yourself on the back for making a few nice drinks; oh, God, what if Yoongi had seen your pleased expression? Do you look smug? You probably look smug. Great, now he probably thinks that you’re a self-obsessed clown, honking your nose like some sort of narcissist. 

“You’re spiralling,” Taehyung points out mildly, voice low enough that Yoongi doesn't hear.

His surprisingly perceptive comment snaps you out of aforementioned spiralling, and after shaking yourself off, you glance over at him. “Why didn’t you serve him?”

He shrugs. “He didn’t seem like he wanted to be served so I just left him to it.”

To be fair to Taehyung, he’s not wrong. Yoongi is staring intently at a slice of carrot cake—even if he’s never ordered any before—and it’s not until you move to your usual spot behind the till that his attention finally rises, meeting your gaze with his deep, dark eyes.

Your inner schoolgirl feels like she needs to sit down. Your entire stomach and chest is a looping mess of frantic butterflies after making eye contact with the cute boy who you’re crushing on, but you’ve got a great poker face; you’ve worked as a barista long enough that you’re good at shoving your real feelings down, none of your internal turmoil playing across your face as you smile. Customer service mode activate.

“Hi, and welcome back to Paradise. What can I get for you today? The usual? Large Americano, to go, for Yoongi?”

You’re a little softer than you would be with other customers, a little more subdued, dialing down how upbeat you normally are to match Yoongi’s level. His lips lift almost imperceptibly, the faintest smile playing across his mouth, and it takes all your strength for your knees to not immediately buckle. 

“Hi,” he says. His voice is soft and low, faintest drawl at the end of his words, and yep, just your weekly reminder that you’re enamoured with him. Cool. “Yes, please, that would be great.”

He already has his card ready, you know he does. He always does; card to pay, loyalty card to swipe, tip to drop in the jar, quick and smooth and easy. This is normally where you’d rattle off the price—as if he doesn’t already know what it is—but you pause, thinking about how intent he’d been on the pastry display, as uncharacteristic as that is.

“Did you… want something to eat, too? I couldn’t, um, help noticing that you were eyeing up the carrot cake?”

Yoongi blinks, wispy lashes fluttering. You can see the muted surprise that flashes across his face, and you wonder if you’ve misstepped, thrown off the usual rhythm of his visit. It’s an unusual step away from your regular script, an ad-lib that he wasn’t expecting.

“Uh, no, thank you,” he says. “Maybe… next time.”

He’s polite as ever, thankfully. You’re not surprised at his answer but you do have to wonder why he was looking at the cake so closely if he hadn’t planned on getting anything; you know he likes getting served by you the most, if the evidence over the months means anything at all, but you don’t think he’d stare at cake just so he would avoid Taehyung. You’re making assumptions based on the fact he just drinks black coffee and literally nothing else, but you’ve guessed he doesn’t have a sweet tooth. (The only time he’s ever ordered food had been two months prior when he’d asked for a single croissant, and nothing since. Taehyung still talks about the croissant sometimes.) 

Well, it doesn't really matter. If he doesn't want cake, you're not going to force it on him, and the rest of the transaction goes as normal. Yoongi hands over his rewards card, fingers long and knuckles knobbly and altogether lovely, pays for his Americano—made by Taehyung, cup wrapped in the sleeve that you’ve written Yoongi’s name on, black sharpie bleeding into the cardboard—and smiles at you both when Taehyung hands it to him across the smooth wood of the counter.

“Thanks.” He gives you that slight tilt of his head that he always does, and you smile helplessly back. 

He’s a gentleman, through and through, even if he looks as distant as ever; dressed in all black, his ripped jeans the only splash of lightness in his dark outfit. Maybe you’re biased, but no matter what he wears, he looks stylish, somehow. It’s something in his aura. All cool understated elegance and power. 

And here you are, in your cream jumper under the dark mulberry apron of your uniform, a flower blooming next to the name on your badge. All chirpy customer service, smiling broad and wide as you go through the same motions over and over with each new person that comes in. Sometimes you wonder what Yoongi thinks of you, as different as you are to him, but at the end of the day it doesn’t really matter—because he keeps coming back, doesn’t he?

“Have a nice day,” you say as he turns to go, and when he glances over his shoulder and says you too, smile soft and eyes softer, you know he really means it. 

(And if your eyes always trail after him once his back has turned, who’s telling?)

“You’re staring.” Taehyung’s telling, apparently.

You tear your eyes away from Yoongi, bell tinkling as the door swings shut behind him. “He’s my favourite customer,” you say. As if that explains why you were staring.

“You’ve barely spoken to him.”

“He’s my favourite customer,” you say again, emphatically. “He comes in, he gets the world’s simplest drink to make, is always polite, always leaves a tip, and he goes. Literally the perfect customer.”

 “Alright, true,” he says, as if he hadn’t considered that before now. “Cute, too.”

You sigh. A little wistful. “Yeah,” you say. “Yeah, he is.”

Taehyung opens his mouth as if he’s about to say something else when someone spills their drink on their floor with an unholy clattering sound, even if nothing breaks; without saying anything, both you and Taehyung raise your hands, eyes narrowing at each other.

"Rock, paper, scissors," you chant. Taehyung promptly loses, and the pout that forms on his lips doesn't disappear until he's finished mopping everything up.

(“Why do I always end up having to clean spillages?”

“Because you never win rock-paper-scissors. You always choose scissors, Taehyung. You literally always choose scissors.”)

The tradition of the weekly specials at Paradise is a weird one, truth be told. Each Monday whoever’s on the opening shift will enter the coffee shop and find that the board on the wall has been updated, the recipe typed up and laminated, waiting on the counter for the baristas. You all assume it’s the mysterious owner, who no one has ever seen, and no one even knows the name of, apparently.

“Someone has to know their name,” you’d said, once, back when you’d first started, only to receive a shrugs from everyone.

“I heard one of the old baristas say the owner’s name was Jackson,” Taehyung had said, and you’d just blinked at him.

“Huh?” you’d said, but Jimin had rolled his eyes and told you to ignore him, so you had.

This week’s drink is the Marshmallow World. As always, when you and Taehyung start your shift together, you read the recipe and follow it step by step to learn how to make it. Warmed milk, vanilla syrup, topped off with marshmallow fluff instead of whipped cream—not bad in theory, if you like sweet things, although it does pose one significant problem.

“It’s clogged my hole,” Taehyung says sadly.

You sputter on your own drink, desperately hacking your lungs out as you try to stop milk from going down your windpipe. “I’m-sorry-it’s-what,” you wheeze all at once, struggling for air.

Taehyung tilts his takeaway cup at you, gesturing at the lid. (All the mugs are still out back or on a rinse cycle so laziness had forced you to make do.) “My drink hole. It’s blocked,” he explains. “The fluff is getting in the way.”

So, yeah. It clogs people’s holes, apparently. But other than that, you have to admit it’s pretty nice, and if you drink it in the café (and thus out of a mug) then you’re fine. You just get into the habit of warning the customers if they order it to go and laugh about it with them and it’s all fine and dandy and everyone is happy.

It’s starting to get busier, now. The nights are getting longer and the days are getting colder and everyone’s starting to think about Christmas, which feels both close and far away, all at once. Close, because you still have presents to buy and there’s never enough time for it; and far, because the lights have yet to go up and Christmas songs aren’t dominating the radio yet and you have yet to experience the real winter rush. Students home for the holidays and families out to see Father Christmas and workers grabbing Secret Santa gifts, everyone desperate for something warm and soothing, hot and comforting in the face of the snow which has yet to fall. 

But there’s something in the air, that cool hush that lets you know it’s nearly here—the changing of the seasons, the burnt sunset colours of autumn melting into the iced blues and greys of winter. No matter if you prefer hot or cold weather, there’s something about the beauty of wintertime that’s undeniable.

And it’s a lot easier to sell something like the Marshmallow World on a day like this, the nip in the air almost solid, biting cold into the apples of your cheeks, nibbling at fingers that are so cold they feel frost-bitten. Once again, your genuine enthusiasm shines through, persuading people to give the drink a go, happy to add a shot of espresso for whoever needs it, desperate for caffeine to buoy them up through the day.

You’ve just finished laughing with a lovely old couple, wearing matching scarves and hats—awwww—waving them goodbye as they go to sit down, when you come face to face with Yoongi, blindsided by his sudden appearance. You’d been so caught up, once again, too busy giggling your way through the conversation with your other customers, able to persuade them to try one special to share alongside everything else they’ve ordered. 

“Oh. Uh. Hi,” you say. Your hand is still by your face after you’d given the couple a cute wave, and when you realise, you freeze. Flustered. Behind you, Taehyung is struggling to spoon the marshmallow fluff neatly on the vanilla steamer, making small noises of distress, but you’re too caught up in your own distress to really notice.

Once again, you have no idea how long Yoongi’s been there. You’re slipping. You’re normally aware of him as soon as he steps into the coffee shop. (You know, because you’re always aware of when a new customer steps in. Like any good barista would be.) Had he witnessed you enthusiastically waving your hands and talking about marshmallows and s'mores? Seen the way you'd grinned and laughed as you'd gotten excited over the weekly special, yet again?

Well, if he had, he doesn't seem perturbed at all. His usual smile is on his face, though you would swear it seems a little softer around the edges, almost fond. 

“Hi,” he says, and… that’s it. 

There’s no addition of his usual that would be great, and that’s when you realise you haven’t asked about his coffee. In fact, your fingers are still curled near your chin, almost like a claw. You clear your throat and let your arm fall to your side, fiddling with the tie of your apron. 

“Hi,” you repeat. Flounder for a second. Try to remember your usual line. “Large Americano?”

“Y/n.” Taehyung whines your name from the bar, loud enough that it catches your attention. “The marshmallow isn’t staying. Why do you keep recommending Marshmallow World? Why must I suffer through this torture? Every day I wake up and I make coffee—”

“Sorry, sir, one second,” you say, face scrunching in apology at Yoongi. 

“It's just Yoongi,” he replies, gentle, and your heart thuds in your chest. "You don't have to call me sir."

Your face feels warm. "Um, okay, Yoongi." You've said his name before, of course, said it dozens of times to confirm his order, but never like this—by invitation from the man himself, an acknowledgement of familiarity.

Taehyung makes another noise. Yoongi's expression turns into one of faint amusement, eyes drifting over your shoulder to your friend; when you turn around, you can see why.

The other barista’s managed to get marshmallow fluff all over the edge of the glass, on the handle of the cup, all the way up the spoon, on his fingers—everywhere except on the drink itself. It’s funny, in a sad sort of way.

“Wow.” You have no idea how he managed it, but you’re here to help. “Alright, go wash your hands, Tae. I’ve got this.”

The cup is a goner.  There’s no way you’ll be able to wipe off the sticky marshmallow. You’re acutely aware of Yoongi at the counter, able to watch your every move, but then you get distracted as you salvage Taehyung's attempt at a Marshmallow World. You just feel grateful that it’s a steamer so you can pour it into a new glass, not having to worry about layers of coffee and milk and foam; it’s a pretty easy fix. Good. (You don’t want to keep Yoongi waiting, as patient as he may be.)

It doesn’t take long to spoon the marshmallow on, whipped peaks in the sticky white, and by the time Taehyung returns you’re ready to present him with the picture perfect drink, not a single lick of fluff anywhere it shouldn’t be. You've got your hands on your hips as you survey your work proudly, and Taehyung sticks his tongue out at you.

“Witchcraft,” he says, and you laugh.

“You’re welcome,” you say. “Alright, shoo, go take this over to the table before they start wondering where it is.”

When you turn back, Yoongi’s watching you. Contemplative. You tamp down the flush that threatens to spill onto your cheeks, face burning, but before you can say anything, he speaks.

“Was that the weekly special?”

You blink. Blindsided. Yoongi’s never asked about the special before, never commented on the A-frame outside, the sign on the wall that sits next to the regular menu. No surprise there—why would someone who only drinks Americanos want to drink ninety-nine percent of the weekly specials you offer? “Um, yeah,” you say. “We’ve got the Marshmallow World this week.”

“Would you recommend it?”

You can’t help it. You light up. You love when customers ask for recommendations, and the fact that it’s Yoongi—whose blood must be made of coffee at this point—who’s asking about it? Americano Yoongi, asking about something without caffeine? Black coffee Yoongi, asking about a weekly special that’s nothing but sugar and sweetness? Something inside you switches on, a Christmas tree, all flashing lights and shimmering tinsel and excitement.

“Oh, if you like sweeter drinks, absolutely! It’s great for a cold day like today,” you gush. Maybe you should reel it in, far more exuberant than you usually are with Yoongi, but. You can’t stop. “It’s warm milk and vanilla, so it’s a lovely comfort drink, and we can add a shot of espresso too if you were wanting a little pick-me-up. And then you’ve got marshmallow fluff on top for some extra self-indulgence. We were meant to, uh, toast the top, actually, but we don’t have the necessary health and safety clearance for blowtorches. I guess you could do that at home if you really wanted to. Everyone likes toasted marshmallows, right?”

Yoongi hums, and you wonder if you’ve maybe gotten ahead of yourself. Oversold it. Maybe he was asking out of curiosity. Just because he’s asking about it doesn’t mean that he wants one—

“Can I get a Marshmallow World, please? Large, to go?”

—or maybe Yoongi is an official convert to the world of sweet drinks, changing after a lifetime of drinking unadorned, unadulterated black coffee. Holy shit. Holy shit? Holy—

“And a large Americano to go, too, please.”

(Record scratch. Freeze frame.  

Yoongi of-the-black-coffee is ordering his usual drink, and another. Both large. Too much for one person to reasonably drink before one of them got cold. He’s not ordering for one person; he’s ordering for two people. Of course Yoongi wouldn’t order something as heart-stopping as the Marshmallow World—not for himself, anyway. 

Mental maths. Two plus two is four, four plus four is eight; one large Americano and one Marshmallow World is two people. Yoongi and one other person is two people, a couple of people, a couple—

Oh, God.

A couple.

You’ve been crushing on a taken man.

You know how they say your life flashes before your eyes before you die? It’s sort of like that, but rather than remembering your life, you immediately recall every moment over the months where you’ve looked at him or thought about him with even the smallest iota of longing and you want to crawl under the counter and never come out. 

You feel weirdly guilty. Like… like you’re some sort of unintentional homewrecker. Even though, you know, you thought Yoongi was single and you haven’t made a single move on him and nor had you had any plans to. The guilt bubbles up inside you anyway.

All at once, you feel immensely, incredibly embarrassed. Of course he’s taken. There’s no way he wouldn’t be, as attractive and nice as he is, and you’ve just been sat here crushing on him like a big dumb idiot. 

You are the worst.)

You manage to squeeze this internal breakdown into the span of a few seconds. You’re grateful that you have your customer service face locked on, giving nothing away—from the outside the smile looks just like that, a smile, rather than the rictus of deathly mortification it actually is, burning through you like a wildfire. 

Yoongi seems none the wiser, just patiently waiting for some sort of acknowledgement of his order. Most of your brain power is still taken up with the mish-mash of humiliation and guilt that’s roiling through you. Luckily, though, the part of your brain that’s still in the moment (trying to drag you back to the real world, shame-faced as you are) forces you to move before things get weird.

“One large Americano, one large Marshmallow World, both to go.” You tap the drinks into the till on auto-pilot, dimly noting that Taehyung’s been pulled into conversation with the old couple at their table, having delivered their drinks and food to them. It’s just you behind the counter, no one else to man the coffee machines. “Let me get those started for you.”

Luckily, making the drinks means you can turn your back to Yoongi, oscillating through the five stages of grief as you fiddle with hot milk and coffee grounds and paper cups. You always take pride in your work—especially when it comes to Yoongi—and you take even more pride now, determined to make these drinks as lovely as they can be. His Americano is fairly simple, but the Marshmallow World requires a bit more finesse, and you lavish attention on the fluff, swirling it beautifully, even though you know it’ll stick to the lid anyway. 

(Okay, listen. Whoever this person Yoongi is seeing must be as nice as he is. They both deserve nice drinks.)

There’s something sweet about it, actually. Before the lids go on, you spent a second staring down at the drinks and the juxtaposition between them; black coffee and white marshmallow, bitter and sweet, night and day. It’s lovely, really, these two opposing things coming together. You wonder what Yoongi’s partner is like. Exuberant and bright, rather than his subdued warmth? A balance, yin and yang, opposite but complementary. 

(Isn’t that a nice thing to think about? Finding someone who’s different to you but matches you so well?)

You firmly press the lids into place, making sure they’re secure. The protective cardboard sleeve of Yoongi’s Americano has his name—the name you’ve memorised, written out countless times—while the Marshmallow World has a scrawled happy face, and an enjoy! on it, for this mysterious person who likes sweet drinks. You do sincerely hope they enjoy it. You really do.

“The fluff blocks the hole,” you warn, sliding the cardboard tray for both drinks carefully across the counter. “It’s probably a better idea to just take the lid off.”

Something flickers across Yoongi’s face, too fast for you to identify. But then he nods, lifting the tray up with equally careful hands. “I’ll keep that in mind,” he says. 

He’s always polite to everyone, Taehyung and the other baristas, but he seems to smile at you the most. He’s smiling at you now, curling at the corners of his lips, and you smile back, fighting through ten layers of embarrassment and self-inflicted shame to do so. Just because he smiles at you the most doesn’t mean anything. You can smile at people and not have it be weird; it doesn’t mean you return their ill-fated attraction.

Why, oh why, oh why.

By the time Taehyung returns to the counter, having escaped the chatty, kind clutches of the elderly couple, Yoongi is long gone. Your fellow barista finds you crouched down in front one of the cupboards with your head in your hands.

“Y/n?” He sounds incredibly concerned. “Are you okay? Do you have a headache? Are you sick?”

You let out a quiet noise, a mix between a whale dying and a hippo trying to swallow porridge, muffled into your palms. “I’m such a doughnut,” you say. “Just an absolute doughnut.”

Taehyung crouches beside you. “A glazed doughnut or a jam doughnut?”

Your hands drop away from your face as you think. “Plain,” you say, eventually. “Unglazed. No toppings or fillings.” A little sad and disappointing. It seems fitting. 

Taehyung puts a hand on your shoulder, warm and comforting. “Do you want to talk about it?”

You feel embarrassed all over again, thinking about admitting your (now-squashed) crush to your friend. It was stupid in the first place, crushing on a customer, especially as you’d barely spoken to him; Yoongi might be cute, and nice, but your crush was silly and dumb and you’d been silly and dumb not to think that he was already in a relationship.

“I’m fine,” you say. “Just going through it. And by ‘it’ I mean life generally, you know?”

Taehyung makes a noise of understanding, patting your shoulder. “Big mood,” he says sombrely. He always knows what to say, empathetic to a fault.

“Uh,” a customer says, craning over the counter to see the two of you. “Sorry to interrupt, but can I get a refill on my coffee, please?”

That effectively kills the conversation, which is good. Keep yourself busy and distracted. By the time you see Yoongi next week, this crush will be dead and gone and you’ll be fine. Just fine. Absolutely fine.

He’s dyed his hair.

It’s a Tuesday afternoon, the café is full of people, and Yoongi has dyed his hair.

You’d spent all of last Tuesday alternating between all-consuming guilt and embarrassment, Taehyung catching you with your head in your hands in one moment and furiously cleaning the steam wand the next, channeling your tumult of emotions into anything that will distract you. 

It had worked. Mostly. You’ve had a week’s worth of time since, to get over this month’s long crush, your brain consistently reminding you that Yoongi is in a relationship, with someone who’s probably lovely and attractive and all around just wonderful (just like him). You remind yourself about this every time you find coffee grounds under your nails, or notice milk flecked on your apron, soured and off-white after a day of work; your life isn’t a meet-cute, and you’re not the cute barista who falls in love with the cute regular. You’re the tired barista who makes more cups of coffee in a day than most people probably drink in a year, and Yoongi is the cute regular who’s already in a long term relationship and comes to Paradise just because he likes the dark roast you use. That’s as far as it will go, because this is real life, and not a romance film or novel. (Even if you wished that it was.)

You’ve come to terms with it. Really, you have. But then he has to step into the coffee shop looking like that, his hair bleached so blond it almost looks white, silver hoops in his ears, and he’s still dressed in dark clothes but he’s wearing glasses, no, this isn’t a drill, Yoongi’s dyed his hair, he’s all light and dark, soft and sharp, and you want to crouch behind the counter again. Because he looks so good and of course he’s in a relationship because he’s hot, and you feel dumb for not having realised it sooner.

You can’t hide behind the counter, though. There’s a queue of people, all waiting for your attention and your time, and it’s still just you and Taehyung; none of your usual Christmas temps are back yet, still away at uni, hence the we’re hiring! posters that are up for all the customers to see (and mostly ignore). The seasons are changing and the weeks are passing and the really eager people are starting to think about Christmas shopping; you swear you don’t even need a calendar, able to trace how close you are to Christmas just based on the amount of foot traffic the coffee shop gets. You’re definitely hitting peak.

But it’s fine. You have this down to a fine art. You and Taehyung are both good on the till and scarily efficient at making drinks and plating food, dancing past each other with an ease that only comes with time spent working together and friendship alongside.

People aren’t ordering the weekly special as much, either, not today. You can’t blame them. Candy Cane Dreams is a white hot chocolate, flavoured with mint and coloured green, topped with whipped cream and sprinkles of candy cane bark and red and green drizzle too; it’s… pretty overwhelming. So it means you don’t have to take over for Taehyung from the bar, focusing on smiling at customers and soothing them after their wait, taking their orders and shuffling them along as quickly as you can. You keep a smile plastered on your face as Taehyung pulls espresso shots and grabs tea bags and heats milk, routine and familiar.

When Yoongi steps up to the counter, you’ve barely had time to mentally prepare yourself, so focused on serving everyone else in the queue; it feels like a slap to the face, a kick to the knees, but then you take one deep breath and exhale. Long, deep, slow, forcing air out of your lungs and thoughts out of your mind, and you smile.

You’ve been so careful up until this point, wanting to keep Yoongi happy, wary of misstepping—but he’s just a regular customer. You feel more confident, now, less worried about breaking this tenuous thing you thought you’d had; less worried about what you’re doing being construed as some weird, roundabout way of flirting, because. You know. He’s in a relationship, so it doesn’t matter either way. He’s definitely not interested. You can talk to him like you would anyone else. 

So you say: “You dyed your hair.”

And, just like you suspected, Yoongi doesn’t seem bothered that you’ve broken your usual script. “Oh, yeah.” He reaches up, touches his head, as if he’d forgotten. “I did.”

“It looks nice,” you continue, because it does.

He’s smiling back at you. He looks pleased; maybe a little bashful, even, as surprising as that is. “Thanks,” he says, warm and genuine. (The tiny gremlin of a crush that’s still lurking in your soul lets out a wistful sigh.) “Can I get a large Americano and a—” he squints at the board— “large Candy Cane Dream, please?”

(One plus one is two, Yoongi and his other half, the sugar to his coffee.)

“Sure!” Your voice is bright. “I’m guessing the Marshmallow World went over well?”

There’s a brief beat of silence, but you don’t notice, too focused on typing Yoongi’s order into the till.

“Yeah, it was great,” he says after that moment of quiet, and you smile. Good. You’re glad they enjoyed it. 

“I’m really happy to hear that,” you say, genuine and bright. 

“What’s actually in the, ah, Candy Cane Dreams?” Yoongi asks, and you laugh, leaning forward conspiratorially.

“It’s horrendous,” you say in a low voice, as if you’re sharing a secret. “Have you ever seen green hot chocolate before?”

You’ve never spoken to Yoongi like this, easy and light, and it’s… nice. He gives no indication of surprise at your sudden friendliness after months of barely talking. If anything he looks pleased, and at one point he even gives you a smile you’ve never seen before, wide and wonderful, flashing his teeth and gums. (The crush gremlin rattles at your ribcage like prison bars, trying desperately to escape, but you don’t give it a chance.)

“Alright, let me just swap with the other barista, he’s still not gotten the Candy Cane Dreams recipe down.”

You hear a suspicious crunch as you make your way over to Taehyung. He turns to you with a guilty smile, edged with sugar, munching on shards of candy cane while his back is to the customers.

“You’re terrible,” you say affectionately. “Go take over on the till, I have a special to make.”

Taehyung glances over, sees Yoongi making his way down to the collection point. “Huh. Alright.”

The Candy Cane Dreams recipe might be a questionable one, but it’s definitely fun to make (watching the white hot chocolate turn green makes you feel like a kid all over again, mixing shampoos together in your bathroom and calling them potions), and maybe you’re overly generous with the candy cane bark, giving Yoongi’s beau more to nibble on and enjoy. It’s not Christmas yet but you’re already in a giving mood, so sue you. 

“Here you go.” You slide the drinks towards him, the man busy reading one of the vacancy fliers, eyes flicking away from the poster when you appear. Your lips quirk up. “Looking for a job?”

You’re expecting a huff of a laugh, a small shake of the head, but he answers you seriously. “Not me, but I have a friend who is,” he says, reaching to take the tray.

You realise your hands are still curled around the cardboard; you quickly pull away so that there’s no chance your hands will brush. (You might have shoved your crush down as far as it will go, but you have to be careful with your weak, gooey heart.) 

“We could do with any help, honestly. Your friend is more than welcome to apply.” You glance over at the queue, which is small but ever present, and you know it’ll only get worse as time goes on. “And, hey, if you ever decide for a change of pace from whatever it is you do, we’d be glad to have you, too.”

This gets a laugh from him, a warm burst of sound. (The gremlin points out that this is the first time you’ve heard him laugh, really laugh, a little raspy and a little quiet and altogether lovely; you beat the gremlin back with a stick.) “I’m better at drinking coffee than I am at making it,” Yoongi says, eyes soft with lingering amusement. “I’ll leave that to the experts.”

You might have gone off script, but the nod he gives you is his usual one, that familiar tilt of the head. “See you next week?” His eyes are dark, dark and deep, and it’s so hard not to fall into them, to fall all over again.

“See you next week,” you echo, hoping the smile you plaster on your face doesn’t look as forced as it feels, as you struggle once more. Yoongi is just nice, okay? He's just being nice, but still. He needs to let a girl breathe.

(He needs to let the gremlin of her crush wither away, instead of making it threaten to come back as strong as before, fuelled by his smile and his eyes and his everything.)

(... maybe you’re not as over this crush as you thought you were.)

It seems like the we’re hiring! posters actually worked.

“I’m Jungkook,” says the new starter, all crooked smiles and warm eyes and thighs so thick they threaten to split the trousers of the café’s uniform, ties of his apron emphasising his small waist.

(“Good lord,” Taehyung says faintly.)

It’s the last week of November and even though Jungkook is still learning the ropes, he’s a massive help, and you know he’ll be a lifesaver over Christmas. He’s eager, learns quickly, and gets stuck right in, material of his shirt straining across his shoulder blades when he rips a bag of coffee beans open with his bare hands, rather than having to use scissors like you or Taehyung. 

Taehyung watches with stars in his eyes as Jungkook pours the beans into the grinder. You cover your smile by sipping at one of the espresso shots Jungkook has pulled—full-bodied and dark, rich in your mouth. 

“This is really good, Jungkook,” you say. He looks over, eyes squeezing into a smile.

“Thought it would be,” he says, and you can’t help but huff a laugh into the tiny espresso cup. He’s cocky and competitive, telling you that he’d never made coffee before but he was going to do a better job than any of the other baristas here. He’s too endearing to come across as arrogant, though, and you have to admit that the coffee is good. (Not as good as yours or Taehyung’s, of course, but still. Pretty good.)

Taehyung coos at him and reaches out to shamelessly squeeze his bicep. “Jungkookie is a natural barista.”

Jungkook’s cocky smile turns equal parts pleased and flustered. You continue to sip at the espresso as Taehyung moons over him, then the bell above the door rings, and the mooning temporarily is put on hold. (Temporarily, because Taehyung continues to moon over him for the rest of the shift, insisting on doing the bulk of his training, which is fine by you.)

It’s the 1st of December tomorrow, so not only do you have to clean after the café is locked up, you have to put out all the Christmas decorations, too. But it’s more fun that it is work, the three of you dragging the tree out of the storage room and decorating it with a menagerie of tinsel and baubles; Jungkook lifts Taehyung so he can get the star on the tree, wrapping his arms around Taehyung’s waist and hoisting him up effortlessly, leaving your friend with a pleased smile on his face.

Jungkook is new, only on his second shift, but he’s slotted in so easily. He laughs at Taehyung when he wiggles his butt along to the Christmas songs you've put on to play, and he helps steady the stepladder as you string garlands of snowflakes on the ceiling, even if he doesn’t really need to. 

He absently readjusts the reindeer headband Taehyung had unearthed from the storage room and proudly placed on his head. “Yoongi-hyung talks a lot about this place,” Jungkook comments, offhand.

If you’d heard this a few weeks ago, you probably would have fallen off the stepladder, inner gremlin grabbing your heart with both hands and squeezing tight-tight-tight. As it is you only pause for a moment, one of the larger snowflakes cradled in your palm, before you go back to your job of hanging them up. 

“So you’re the friend he mentioned that needed a job,” you say. 

“That’s me.” Jungkook grins, boyish and bright, and you laugh. “He really, really likes this café. Wouldn’t shut up about it, even before he told me that you were hiring.”

You can’t imagine Yoongi gushing about a café to his friends, but then again, he clearly is passionate about his coffee. Jungkook will know him better than you, having a real friendship rather than this patron-and-customer back-and-forth that you’ve had, so who are you to imagine what’s normal for Yoongi and what isn’t? You didn’t even know he was in a relationship, after all. You don’t know anything about the guy, really. 

“Well, we appreciate his custom,” you say. “I know Yoongi is the one who actually comes in, but you can thank his other half, too, and I hope they enjoy their drinks as well.”

You’re too busy hanging the garland to see the way Jungkook’s face twists. 

“Huh?”

“You know. Yoongi always comes in for his Americano and the weekly special for his partner,” you say.

You’re focused on stepping down the ladder without falling to see the expression on Jungkook’s face, nose scrunched and lips pursed, like there’s something he’s smelled that he really doesn’t like.

“Did he say that to you? That it was for someone else?”

“Hm?” You pause in grabbing another string of snowflakes, glancing up. “Oh, no, I just worked it out, you know? Yoongi is a religious coffee drinker, why else would he order something that’s basically hot sugar water? I think it’s cute,” you add, belatedly. “That he always comes in to grab something for them, too.” 

(You wish you had someone to do that for you.)

There’s a beat of silence. Jungkook’s holding the stepladder, ready to move it, staring at you in a way that’s weirdly intense. “I see,” he says, like that isn’t weird or mysterious at all.

Then he drags the stepladder’s rubber feet across the floor with such a loud noise that Taehyung startles, bauble falling out of his hand and shattering. Jungkook, of course, profusely apologises and insists on cleaning it up—but not before making sure Taehyung is okay, of course, grabbing his hands and looking over them, as if the bauble had broken in his palms and not the floor. 

Taehyung looks immensely pleased. You just smile quietly to yourself, roll your eyes lightly, and go back to hanging snowflakes as Jungkook speaks to Taehyung, soft and low.

You think your favourite thing about training a new starter is witnessing their reaction to the weekly special.

“So,” Jungkook says, slowly. “You put in the whole gingerbread man—gumdrops and icing and all—and just blend it?

“Yep.” Taehyung’s reply is cheery. “Straight in and whizz it all up.”

This week, it’s You Can’t Catch Me, I’m the Gingerbread Frappé which is a) probably the longest name known to mankind and b) probably the most questionable name known to mankind and c) who orders a frappé in December?

These thoughts are clearly playing across Jungkook’s face as Taehyung coaxes him to drop the gingerbread man into the blender, and you’re too busy enjoying the consternation on Jungkook’s face to notice someone stepping up to the counter—until they clear their throat, that is, and you all turn. 

“Hi,” Yoongi says.

“Oh! Hi,” Taehyung says.

“Hyung! Look!” Jungkook says.

“Jungkook, wait—” you say.

“Whirr,” the lidless blender says.

It’s chaos. Frappé ends up everywhere, splattered over the counter and the floor, splashed across the wine-red aprons of both of your fellow baristas, as close to the blender as they were—saving you from any of the sugary fallout, unwitting human shields.

There’s a beat of silence, where you all stare at each other—

And then Yoongi laughs.

You’ve never seen Yoongi laugh this loudly, eyes squeezed so hard you wonder if he can even see, almost cackling as he laughs at Jungkook’s expression, joyful and loud and free. It’s another dimension to him, another new part you witness as Jungkook wipes gingerbread and ice off his face and Taehyung stares at the mess spattered across his hands and arms.

It makes you think of a paper crane. Yoongi is this unfinished thing in your mind, each new thing you learn about him another fold that you add, a flat sheet of paper turned into something entirely and wholly new. You wish that it weren’t so alluring, watching it come together, finding out more and more about this man you’ve technically known for months, but only recently started to get to know.

(You wish that it wasn’t so easy to keep falling for him.)

Once the counter is cleaned, both Jungkook and Taehyung retreat to replace their aprons, leaving you—once again—alone with Yoongi. He’d stopped laughing to tease Jungkook, to gently rib him, but you can see the smile that’s etched on his face, the echoes of mirth written across all his features.

“We usually train the baristas to keep the lid on, I swear,” you say, and Yoongi’s face splits into another smile.

“I was going to say that it’s an unorthodox blending technique,” and you can’t help but smile back at this, even if you’ve been trying not to laugh. Professionalism barely wins out, your lips trembling as you try to hold your giggling back, but Yoongi spots it anyway, looking pleased, like he’s accomplished something by getting you to (nearly) laugh.

You’re not laughing when you have to make one of the special frappés, though. You stare at the gingerbread man as you hold him above the blender, at his cheery iced face and his cute little buttons (not the gumdrop buttons), and brace yourself to drop him.

“I’m so sorry,” you whisper, and let him go, before quickly slamming the lid on top and turning the blender on so you don’t have to look at the betrayal you’ve just committed. 

When you turn, Yoongi has an expression of sympathy on his face; for you or the gingerbread man, you can’t tell, but his face smooths the second he notices you looking at him, blinking innocently, as if there’s nothing unusual going on. It’s disarming, seeing that expression on his face, when you’d gotten used to seeing him act more reserved, but it’s cute.

(It is cute, whether you’re crushing on him or not. It’s just a statement of fact, okay? It’s nothing more than that. Even if that tiny gremlin of a crush still lives in your chest, scuffing its feet against your heart, reminding you of its presence when you least need it.)

(It digs its heels in when you put the frappé and Americano side by side, nestled snug in their cardboard tray. You slide it towards Yoongi and you’re a little too slow, fingers brushing his when he reaches for them; you’re surprised by how quickly he moves, how eager he seems to be reaching for his order, fingertips dragging across the back of your knuckles, and the gremlin kicks your heart, pulse rising just at that glancing touch. Even if you know it’s fruitless, useless, you can’t help but like Yoongi anyway.)

(“See you next week,” he says, and you can’t do anything but smile helplessly back.)

You normally love snow. You love waking up to the sight of it, pure and pristine white, adding another dimension to your familiar world—you love snowball fights and snowmen and snow angels, even if it all leaves you feeling cold, chilled right to the bone, nose running and hands freezing. The best part about winter is getting warm again, the season of throw blankets and hot water bottles, knitwear and scarves, tea and hot cocoa, all cosy and lovely and wonderful.

It’s a bit different when you have to work all day, though. You watch as the snow on the streets outside is threatened by the spray of salt and a thousand spinning car wheels and busy feet, ice turned to slush water; for now the snow is winning, though, and judging from the weather forecast, you think that’ll be the case for the rest of the day. You hope it lasts through to tomorrow, too; by the time you get home you’ll be too tired and it’ll be too dark to play in the snow, and it leaves you feeling disappointed and sad. 

(Winter is lovely but it can be a hollow season, too, something about the leafless trees and fogged windows making everything feel like an empty dream.)

At least Paradise is warm, even if you’re cooped up inside, safe from the still-falling snow that keeps trying to turn the world into an untouched, frozen wonderland. It’s quiet in the coffee shop today. Only the bravest of people have ventured out into the not-a-blizzard-but-basically-a-blizzard, plastered against radiators and putting drinks to their faces, letting hot steam heat their cold cheeks.

It’s why you’re both surprised and unsurprised when Yoongi appears, bell chiming above his head as the door swings shut and he stamps his feet on the front mat, knocking snow off his boots. He somehow looks disgruntled and soft all at the same time, a royal blue beanie on his head forcing his fringe down to sit messily over his eyes, bundled up warm even if his face is scrunched up and his cheeks are red from the cold.

“I hate cold weather,” he tells you once he reaches the counter, gloves peeled off his fingers so he can reach for his wallet, his nose tinged pink as he sniffs.

You proffer him a box of tissues. “You look like you need it,” you say gently, and he smiles at you, a warm hearth in the cold winter.

“Thank you.” His voice is equally as gentle as yours, and something aches in your chest.

It’s just you behind the counter right now, so you take Yoongi’s order and make the drinks too—one large Americano and one large Latteggnog (a basic latte made with eggnog instead of milk, rich and thick and creamy), this week’s special: everyone’s favourite Christmas drink, but with a twist of coffee. 

The quiet gives you time to think. Jungkook and Taehyung are out back, the older barista coming up with the most ridiculous excuses to take them away from the counter; you don’t mind that they’re taking the time ‘counting the coffee beans’, as deserted as the café is. 

The café is practically empty and Yoongi hates the cold but here he is, venturing into the ice and snow to get this person he cares about the drink they want, because they’re that special to him. (You hope they realise how lucky they are.)

You’re normally okay being single. Don’t really think about it. But there’s something about today, this moment, that has you reflecting; Taehyung has this budding thing with Jungkook, Yoongi has this steady thing with his love, and here you are, by yourself, alone. It’s hard to summon up your usual energy, going through the motions as you make the drinks. You tilt your head forward, dusting nutmeg on the eggnog latte, watching the way the sprinkle of spice settles delicately and softly in the foam. No flourish, no flick of the wrist, not today.

(There’s two cups in front of you now, but later, when you’re home, there’s just going to be one. Yours. Yours, and no one else’s.)

(When you get home, you’re going to do what any self-respecting single person would do: order too much takeaway, rewatch The Good Place, get emotional over Eleanor and Chidi’s relationship—they’re so different but they’re so perfect for each other, why can’t you have that?—mope for a bit, rewatch The Princess Bride, get emotional over Westley and Buttercup—where’s your cute farmboy who saves you from an evil prince?—mope a bit more, before finally climbing into bed and hugging a pillow to your chest in the space of having someone else there. You know. Perfectly normal single person things.)

When you turn to Yoongi, drinks ready and raring to go, you’ve forced a Customer Service Smile onto your face. They say that just the act of smiling makes you happier, right? Maybe if you smile hard enough, you’ll cheer up, chasing away this sudden sadness that lingers in the back of your throat, scratching at your lungs like black ice.

“Here you go!” Your voice seems too loud for the quiet hush of the café, but you roll with it anyway. “Enjoy your drinks!”

Yoongi takes them from you, hands carefully cupped around the tray, but his eyes don’t leave your face. He doesn’t return your smile, as convincing as it should be (even Taehyung struggles to tell between your real smile and your work smile, sometimes); he stands for a moment, looking at you.

You think he’s about to say something when he clearly thinks better of it. He tilts his head, like he always does, but you’d swear his expression is tinged with concern. “Thanks,” he says. Pauses. “The roads are really icy. Get home safe, okay Y/n?”

Blink, blink. Your eyelashes flutter. You suddenly realise that he’s never said your name out loud, never had a need to, even if he must have known it all along from the badge on your chest. It sounds so good in his mouth, soft and safe.

 “Oh,” you say, slow with surprise. “Thank you. I will. You, too.”

Yoongi nods again, as if to himself, before he turns to go.

He stops one more time before he goes. He stands at the open door, glances over his shoulder before he steps out, dark eyes meeting yours, as if checking that you’re still there, still tethered to the ground. Seems satisfied when he finds that you are. He gives you one last smile, all soft around the edges—that’s something you know intimately about Yoongi, that he’s soft through and through, even if he can look sharp, as cold as the ice outside—and then he goes, back into the falling snow to deliver a steaming sip of warmth into the hands of the person he loves.

(Your heart aches.)

It’s the week before Christmas. The whole world has that feeling it always does at this time of year—excited and bright, if a little frantic, the hanging lights in the city a backdrop to people’s last minute shopping, their breaths pluming out into the air as they rush around in the cold. The whole world feels full of life, that final push towards the end of the year; the hearth fire of Christmas before that weird in between before the new year, that held breath of potential, before the clock ticks over and the world is thrown into the next year.

Paradise has been busy. It’s like summer, only instead of sundresses and shorts, everyone is in knitwear and scarves, shivering as they wait to be served, desperate for a drink to warm them up, something to eat to fill their bellies. You spend more time in the coffee shop than you do at home, pulling overtime shifts to help your fellow baristas out—everyone thinks Christmas is a time of relaxation and coming together, but it doesn’t feel like that when you work in a customer facing job, oh no. It’s just non-stop busyness and being rushed off your feet.

(You’d barely had a chance to speak to Yoongi, café full when he’d stepped in, your pace frenetic as you’d danced around behind the counter with Taehyung and Jungkook; you’d slid his drinks towards him, his Americano and the special, and maybe your smile had looked more harrowed than you thought because he’d caught your hand and squeezed it.

“I hope you get a chance to rest over Christmas,” he’d said, concerned and sincere, as you’d stood in stunned silence, not expecting that almost-intimate touch, gentle against your skin.

“I will,” you’d said eventually. Yoongi had seemed to suddenly realise he was still touching you, fingers clasped around yours, and he’d withdrawn quickly, giving you a smile that felt like a whispered secret, before leaving you to deal with the ever-growing queue.)

Suffice to say, it’s been a long week, and you’re tired, and your feet hurt after all the running around you’ve been doing, and you just want to go home. You just need to finish the close, need to finish setting everything up for the open tomorrow, need to finish cleaning everything, and then you can get some sleep.

At least, that’s what you thought. Instead, you’re standing across from Jungkook and staring at him incredulously. You can feel a headache coming on.

“Wait.” You pinch the bridge of your nose. “What do you mean, we need to deliver some coffee?”

You don’t know if Jungkook is being deliberately obtuse, but he just stares at you as if you’re the one talking nonsense right now, and not him. “We have a customer order to deliver,” he says.

“Yes, I gathered that,” you say. “I just mean, why did no one tell me sooner?”

Paradise doesn’t do deliveries, as such. You cater for events, and you technically do deliveries then, but it’s less ‘one coffee to go’ and more ‘enough sandwiches and pastries and bagels and coffee to feed an entire office’. It’s not that you can’t bring someone their order directly, it’s more that you just… don’t.

“Taehyung took the order,” Jungkook says, as if that explains everything.

You pinch the bridge of your nose again. You can’t ask Tae about it, the other man having had to leave just as you’d been about to flip the sign to closed (‘Jimin says Tannie peed in his shoes again! I have to go clean it up! I’m so sorry, I swear I’ll cover a close for each of you next time!’), so it’s just you, and Jungkook, and the slip of paper on the counter between you. You’ve worked with Taehyung long enough to trust his judgement and his decisions, as inexplicable as they might seem sometimes, but you do think it’s weird that he’s taken this delivery on board.

“It’s not too far from here,” Jungkook adds, peering at the address on the paper. “It won’t take long.”

“We have to finish closing, Jungkook,” you say. 

He shrugs casually, carelessly. “I’ll do it, I don’t mind. You can just do the delivery and then go home straight after, it’s whatever.”

“It’s not whatever,” you mumble. “Why can’t you deliver it?”

“You’re the senior barista, you’re a better representative of the brand,” he says, and you have no idea where he pulled that from. (You blame Jimin. You know they’ve had shifts together, and Jimin is too smooth-talking for his own good.)

As much as you want to argue, you can’t help but cave, because the prospect of getting home early is one that you’re not about to sniff at. (You’d worry that Jungkook would get home late, what with the amount of prep he still needs to do for tomorrow, but you half suspect that Taehyung will reappear at some point, anyway.) You’re too tired to want to argue. “I just want to say this is a one off, and normally we cater for events, we’re not really a delivery service, okay?”

“Duly noted.”

It’s a simple enough order, anyway—it’s just two drinks. The first is a large quad shot latte with caramel and toffee syrup, extra whipped cream and cinnamon on top (something you’d definitely order, you think, indulgent and milky and with enough caffeine to kick you up the ass). Jungkook dutifully cleans as you start the second drink. The special this week is far, far less sweet than normal; a Rudolph the Red-eyed Reindeer: a simple red eye with a pinch of holiday spice, coffee with an extra espresso shot and topped with cinnamon and nutmeg. You take in a deep breath, swallowing down the warm smell and letting it flow through you before you double check the details on the note.

It takes you a second as you squint at the address, wondering why it looks familiar—and then you pause. This is Yoongi’s office, you think to yourself, and it feels a little like there’s an apricot pit sitting heavy in your stomach, heavy and hard. Paradise had catered a breakfast for them last week, and it hadn’t been on your shift and so you hadn’t gone, but—you’d heard enough about it from Jimin, the type who gets to know everyone and everything the second he walks in the door. You’d heard about the team that Yoongi manages, found out that Yoongi works in music, in artist and repertoire, and when you’d had the chance to Google exactly what that meant, you’d been bowled over. He has such a complex, high skilled job, and here you are, struggling to get a job with your degree, hence the barista thing. (Thanks, economy.)

You hastily shuffle past the address, trying to ward off your sudden sense of inadequacy, focusing on the name instead. What sort of name is Suga? you think to yourself, and then shrug. Probably one of the workers had enjoyed the breakfast the other week and was still hanging around before going on holiday for Christmas, or something.

“Alright, I’m off.” You’re ready to advance into the cold outside: coat on, scarf looped around your neck and hat secure on your head, cardboard tray of drinks clutched in your hands. “If you need help closing, just call me and I’ll come back, okay?”

“I won’t, but, thanks,” Jungkook says, equal parts self-assured and reassuring. “Don’t fall on your ass!”

It is icy outside, the entire world a winter wonderland, beautiful but cold and daylight long gone; snow drifts slowly from the sky above, dusting your shoulders and the top of your hat, flakes caught so softly by the weave of your clothes. It’s the kind of day that’s perfect spent indoors, curled up with the people you love, warmed through and through—and here you are, picking your way across the pavement slush to deliver a coffee to someone. (You’re not even getting paid for this.)

At least it’s not too far, really, just a few blocks away. The building is small, which is a plus, because it means you won’t have multitudes of rooms and offices to trawl past to get to your destination. The receptionist is more than helpful, too, when you say that you have a delivery for Suga; she gives you exactly directions and then she smiles at you, pleasant and pretty and lovely, and that gremlin that’s still clinging desperately onto your feelings for Yoongi whispers: what if this is Yoongi’s girlfriend? She’s beautiful.

Shut up, you think, before smiling back and thanking her, and heading on your way.

This close to Christmas you’d think that the building would be almost empty, but you’d be wrong. It’s not a buzzing hive of activity but there are still people walking around, speaking behind closed doors or laughing through open ones, decorations and tinsel hanging from the ceiling. Up ahead you see a someone come out of a room, shutting the door behind them before they walk in your direction. It’s a man who looks like he’s just stepped off the cover of a fashion magazine and as you pass in the corridor he pauses, raising his eyebrows at you. Not suspicious, just surprised.

“Uh, I have a coffee for Suga,” you say without prompting, as if he was about to accuse you of some sort of nefarious scheme and your coffee delivery is the only thing saving you from that.

“Oh,” mister-model-handsome says, suddenly smiling widely, like this is all perfectly normal and not weird at all. He’s got some of the poutiest lips you’ve ever seen. “You’re nearly there, he’s just down the corridor and on the right. Have fun!”

“Uh, you too?” you reply. (Is he Yoongi’s boyfriend? He’s tall and broad shouldered and incredibly attractive, with the type of smile that makes people’s hearts race, and Yoongi definitely deserves someone like that.)

Your destination seems to be the office the (probably) model just came out of. You look around the corridor, which seems to be deserted now, the hubbub of people elsewhere in the building. You knock quietly, not wanting to disturb the hush that’s filled the air around you.

A beat. Then: “Come in,” someone says, voice muffled through the door.

It swings open easily at your touch. You stand on the threshold, mouth open around the announcement of your delivery when the words die on your lips.

Yoongi’s there, sitting behind a desk and his head bowed as he scribbles something in a notebook. He doesn’t look up. “Shut the door,” he says. Dumbstruck, you do just that, and it’s not until the door’s quietly clicked shut that he starts to raise his head. “Hyung, I already said that I don’t need to eat—”

And then he spots you standing there.

He stops mid-sentence, mouth open, eyes widening. He looks as shocked as you feel, utterly taken aback and agog, and even now you can’t help but notice how good he looks. He’s in a black button up, sleeves rolled to the elbow and top button undone, revealing the pale skin of his collarbones. It’s another juxtaposition, the Yoongi that you’re familiar with (an aura of effortless authority and attractiveness) in a place you don’t know at all, completely professional, his desk neat and the entire space put together. There’s a tastefully decorated tree in the corner but it doesn’t throw off the balance of the room at all. 

“Uh.” You cough lightly. “I have… a delivery… for Suga?”

Yoongi stares at you.

“Is this… not the right room? I can go,” you mumble, gesturing over your shoulder with a thumb.

This seems to snap Yoongi out of whatever thoughts he was having as he shakes his head. “No, this is… Suga’s office,” he says. “I just didn’t order any coffee.”

You open your mouth. Shut your mouth. You don’t have an Americano on the tray, but he’d probably like the red eye, coffee with extra coffee, no sugar or cream. Just a little pinch of spice. 

“Maybe it was a surprise, or something? Couples get each other gifts all the time.”

Yoongi’s lips quirk up. “I’m not really the type that gets surprised with gifts.”

Something about this strikes a discordant note in you. He’s always delivering gifts of coffee—he deserves those expressions of love returned to him. You can’t help but say as such.

“You’re always giving gifts, though,” you say. “Those weekly specials. I wouldn’t be surprised if your other half is returning the favour.”

Blink, blink. He looks perplexed. “I don’t have an other half?”

Your mouth opens again. “Uh,” you say eloquently. “What?”

“I… don’t have an other half? I’m… single?”

“You’re…” Your face scrunches up, wrinkled in confusion. What? He’s… what? “But you always buy two drinks?”

Silence. Then: “I… the Americano is for me,” he says. “I usually just pour the special away. I only started ordering them because you got so excited talking about them and making them. I never planned on drinking them.”

Your mouth falls open, soft around a quiet breath, a soft oh. “You—wait. You ordered them because I got excited about them?”

Yoongi’s eyes are so dark, so gentle; melted chocolate, warm. “You started to talk to me more, after the first time I did,” he says, and you know you had. Because you thought it was safer to talk to him, though you were secure in the knowledge he wasn’t single—but he is single. “So I kept doing it, because I wanted to talk more to you. I thought you knew? And that’s why you started having real conversations with me.”

You’re frozen in place, eyes as big as dinner plates. Min Yoongi, your futile crush, who looks as sharp as a knife but is as sweet as spun candyfloss, has been coming back week after week—for you. He’s not in a relationship, and he’s been flirting with you.

Or at least he thought he had been. You, however, hadn’t even realised.

“I was going to ask you on a date after Christmas,” he continues, calm and steady, as if your brain isn’t melting. He’s still sitting behind his desk, and there’s something about his tousled hair and bared lower arms—watch on one wrist and a few bracelets on the other—that has your heart pounding, that casual air somehow not at odds at the weight of the surroundings. Because the world is a backdrop to Yoongi, and he makes it work.

“What the fuck,” you say. You realise you’ve never sworn in front of him when something flickers in his eyes; not a bad flicker, no. Definitely not. “I thought you were taken.”

“I’m very single,” he says lightly, belying the weight behind the words. And then his eyes drop to your hands. “You said you have a coffee for me?”

Which leads to this: Yoongi, in his chair, you, leaning against his desk. He’s taken the red eye (of course) while you sip at the latte, relishing the punch of espresso, the flavour of the syrups.

You’re both staring at each other as you drink, air in the room growing thicker by the moment, when Yoongi breaks the silence. “This is probably the only weekly special I’d actually want to drink.”

You can’t help but laugh. “Black coffee with more espresso? That’s you all over,” you say. “The other specials aren’t so bad, though. I think you just need to give sweet drinks a chance.”

You’re speaking without thinking, but the second those words leave your mouth, the air turns electric. Yoongi’s still staring at you, unwavering and intent, and everything inside you is melting, leaving you flushed and hot. The smile hasn’t left his face, which had been warm but it’s changed, evolved, edged with something sharper.

“If you say so,” he says. His eyes are on your lips. “Let me try?”

His fingers are so gentle on your face, hands cupping your jaw as he tilts your head down. All your thoughts leave you. There’s nothing in your mind but Yoongi, his warm hands and dark eyes, the heat of his body so close to yours, his mouth; you can’t help but look down, tracing the shape of his lips with your gaze, a small soft pout that’s so at odds with the weight of his intensity. 

When he kisses you, it’s featherlight. Barely the softest of pressures, the potential of something more—and then he pulls you in deeper, and there it is, that heat flickering in your stomach jumping into a full fire. The kiss turns hot and wet as he licks the flavour of caramel and toffee syrup out of your mouth, and he tastes like coffee, dark and bitter; you make a noise against his lips and he swallows it down, pulls you closer.

You’re straddling his knees, a little awkward and cramped in his office chair, but you don’t care. You’ve been wanting to kiss Yoongi for so long, even when you felt like you shouldn’t, thought about his dark eyes and pink mouth, the curve of his lips, the paleness of his hands; a steadying presence around your waist, holding you in place.

When you pull apart, Yoongi’s lips are flushed, kiss swollen. It looks good on him. Really good on him.

“I’ve thought about that more than I’d like to admit,” he says, and you can’t help but feel warmed by it, the realisation that you’ve wanted to kiss him but he’s wanted to kiss you, too.

“This really isn’t comfortable,” you say, wriggling a little—your ass is starting to go numb, sat on Yoongi’s knees—and Yoongi sucks in a quick breath at the way you’re all but squirming in his lap, even if he doesn’t say anything.

Oh, you think. 

When you move away, he lets you go without protest, hands sliding off your waist. It’s not until you fall to your knees that Yoongi realises what you’re doing, his eyes widening.

“Y/n,” he breathes. “You don’t have to—”

“Please, Yoongi, I’ve wanted to do this for months,” you say. Maybe it was a little crass to start with, wanting to get on your knees for a man you barely knew just because he was hot and polite to you, but now you know he wants you back. You’re not about to let this opportunity pass you by, staring up at him between his knees, hands braced on his thighs. “But if you want me to stop, I’ll stop.”

He looks torn, just for a second, eyes darting away from your face and to the door. It’s shut, but it’s not locked, and though the building is quiet there’s nothing to say that someone couldn’t walk in at any second.

Without thinking, you lick your lips. Yoongi’s eyes flicker back at the motion, watching how your tongue moves, and you can see how he crumbles.

“I don’t want you to stop,” he says, and you dig your nails into his trousers, electricity shooting through you.

“You’ll have to keep your voice down,” you warn, and reach for his zipper.

It’s a struggle for him, you can tell. He’s already biting his lip by the time you’ve tugged his trousers and boxers down, hardening under your grasp, and you knew his dick would be as pretty as the rest of him. You don’t have the luxury of worshipping him the way you want to, acutely aware of the fact you’re in his office, but it doesn’t mean you’re not going to make Yoongi feel good. It’s dirty and messy, the way you suck his cock into your mouth lewd and wet, lavishing attention on the most sensitive parts; his hips jump as you circle the head with your tongue and jerk the rest of his length with a hand. 

Everything’s sloppy with spit and precum and Yoongi’s biting off curses, hand tightening in your hair as you take in as much of him as you can, relaxing your throat and swallowing him down, down, down. When you look up at him through your lashes he looks wrecked, the paleness of his skin flushed pink, and you can’t wait to see that all over. Can’t wait to see Yoongi entirely bare in front of you, when you have the luxury of time and pleasure.

But there’s something about this, too, that has your heart racing, cunt throbbing. You’re running your spit slick lips down the side of his shaft, tonguing the throb of the vein there, when you hear footsteps nearby, muffled through the door. It doesn’t sound like they’re coming in this direction and Yoongi seems almost entirely lost to the feeling of your mouth on him, but you flick your tongue across the spot where the head of his cock meets the shaft and he bows forward, swallowing down the noise that threatened to spill from his lips. He’s so fucking hot like this, falling apart under your hands and mouth, and you know he’ll give as good as he gets.

“Gonna cum,” he rasps. You smile up at him before taking his cock back into your mouth, jerking him off hard and fast as you lick and suck—and when he cums it’s with a noisy exhale of breath, a muffled groan, and even as you’re swallowing down his cum and mouthing at him until he winces with oversensitivity, you’re imagining what he sounds like when he doesn’t have to be quiet.

He’s not shy, either. You’ve barely tucked him back in when he’s reaching for you, kissing you. There’s no taste of coffee any more and you shiver, molten and boneless at the way his tongue presses into your mouth.

“Still want to take me on a date?” 

You’re being cheeky, voice light as you joke, but Yoongi’s responding look is equal parts serious and affectionate. He sweeps a thumb over your cheekbone and you relax into his hands, feeling like a cat that got the cream. Here you are, on your knees in his office, the glittering lights of his Christmas tree thrown across your hair and skin, warmed by the touch of a man you’ve wanted for months but never thought you would get.

“Of course,” he murmurs, gentle-gentle-gentle, as if you hadn’t just sucked his soul through his dick—and you love that about him, love his inherent soft core, his big heart. You might not know him as well as you’d like—not yet—but you already know that much about him. “I owe you a present, too.”

Your face scrunches. “What, because I gave you a blowjob?”

At this he laughs, mouth split wide and gums on show as his whole body shakes with the intensity of it. “No, because you brought me a coffee,” he says. He still has your cheek cupped in his hand, palm warm against your skin. “But if you want to say it’s because of the blowjob as well, then sure.”

“There’s plenty more where that came from.” You smile at him, gentle expression at odds with the meaning behind the words and your position—still on your knees.

You don’t know if they ache when you stand, because Yoongi is kissing you again, distracting you. And it’s easy, this back and forth you have, comfortable as you finish the (now lukewarm) coffees and get ready to go, because Yoongi insists on walking you home. Because he’s a gentleman, your gentleman, and he even holds the door open for you.

You’re not sure if you can reach for his hand, if that would be too forward in his place of work, if he doesn’t want to when this thing between you is so tentative and new. But you’re barely halfway down the corridor when he stops you with a gentle hand on your arm; when you look over, he’s smiling at you, and then tilts his chin up.

“Oh!” You stare at the huge bundle of mistletoe above you, tied with red ribbon and messily taped to the ceiling. It brings a smile to your face. “Oh, how cute.”

The hand on your arm shifts down. Yoongi weaves his fingers with yours.

“You know about the tradition, right?” There’s a twinkle in his eyes, and it’s not just from the lights from the ceiling above, turning his dark eyes into warm chocolate, deep brown. “Kissing under the mistletoe?”

You can’t help but blink, surprised at his sweetness, his forwardness. There’s nothing to say that someone couldn’t walk by right now, to see the two of you hand in hand under the mistletoe, but Yoongi doesn’t care at all. He’s staring at you like you’re the only other person in the world, and you feel like a fountain of champagne is bubbling inside you, heady and sparkling and light.

“I think I’ve heard of it,” you say, and he’s still smiling, a small thing, just for you. “Do you think you can show me?”

And he does, with his hand in yours, your lips against his, and up above, the mistletoe sparkles.

(Your phone rings. Caller ID says it’s Taehyung, but when you pick up, he’s not the one who speaks.

“So.” Jungkook sounds knowing, his voice bordering on smug. “How did the delivery go?”

In the background you can hear someone crowding close, put it on speaker, Kookie, I want to hear too, and you can’t help but smile at Taehyung’s eagerness.

“Good,” you say. Yoongi’s palm is warm against yours and you swing your joint hands together, looking at him, entranced by the way the snowflakes dust his eyelashes. The sky above is dark and the wind around you is cold, but the man beside is so bright and warm. You feel wrapped up in it. “Yoongi says he’s going to kill you, by the way.”

“He won’t,” Jungkook says cheerfully, loud enough that Yoongi can hear. He looks fond.

“Well, tell Taehyung I’m going to kick his ass for lying about Tannie peeing on Jimin’s shoes,” you say.

“You won’t,” Taehyung says, equally as cheerful, and you can’t help but smile.

“No, I won’t,” you say. 

You think about the seasons. You think about the man walking beside you; the man who says he hates cold weather, but has kept his gloves off so he can feel your hand against his. The man who came out in the snow to order a drink, just to make you smile. The man who looks like winter but feels like spring, something cold bursting into potential, new life.

In the depth of winter, under the snow and twinkling Christmas lights above, Yoongi squeezes your hand.)

taglist: @beyoncesdragon​ @vensulove

[haik-choo]

karasuno boys as boyfriends

a/n: im just basically astral projecting myself into these situations; ALSO if you want more detailed ones, just ask, and you shall receive! (also this is my first post i’ve written on here! but if you want plenty of kpop content i’m @hyucksong where i’ve been writing and I am still active! :))

---

[KARASUNO BOYS AS BOYFRIENDS HEADCANNONS]

-tsukishima, yamaguchi, hinata, kageyama, tanaka, nishinoya, sugawara, daichi, and asahi

---

tsukishima kei.

the type to look you straight in your eyes when you ask for a hug and say “no, who do you think i am, your boyfriend?”

runs his hands through your hair from the front and then when his hand reaches the back of your head he pulls you into him and kisses you either on the forehead or the lips <3

in order to be in a relationship with him you HAVE to have the same type of humor.

i don’t think he could date someone who doesn’t make fun of people with him

you guys are like best friends who make fun of each other and. make out a little every once in a while

he’ll hold your hand and hug you in public but he will NEVER do anything else, especially not in front of the boys

he thinks the blush that ignites on your kissable cheeks should be for his eyes only

he gave you a keychain that had a cute little strawberry shortcake on it. and it’s your most prized possession 

will shoot a glare at anyone who watches you too closely. like no. don’t get googly eyed over MY girlfriend. 

and you don’t have a problem with that ;) 

yamaguchi tadashi.

he likes to watch you when you’re not looking to pick out the little habits you do

he thinks that knowing someone’s little hardly noticeable habits is one of the most intimate things on mother earth

he knows that you stir the milk in the bowl three times before you pour the cereal in to check for chunks because you accidentally drank spoiled milk when you were younger

NEVER has an issue getting you a gift for any occasion. he ALWAYS knows what you’re looking at and what you want and you lowkey think he can read your mind but in reality he just pays attention <3

you’re either just as shy as him to bring out his more assertive side or more assertive than he is to bring out his more timid side -- both are good

kisses you on the forehead and holds your hand in public -- he loves PDA because he can show you off :’)

yes. he kisses the back of your nape in public. so what. 

YES. HE CLOSES HIS EYES WHEN HE DOES IT AND ACCIDENTALLY INHALES YOUR SCENT AND WHISPERS IN YOUR EAR THAT YOU SMELL GOOD. IDC IF YOU THINK THAT’S CREEPY. IT’S CUTE. YES. HE GIVES YOU THAT LOOK THAT SAYS HE’S CRAZILY IN LOVE WITH YOU. SO WHAT.

kageyama tobio.

he probably fell in love with you because you were just as passionate about something else as he is about volleyball; music, drawing, writing, math, science, reading -- whatever

i see this relationship as being one that’s like...accelerated friends. like,,, you act like him and hinata except you kiss sometimes and he can see you at the end of the wedding aisle

DEFINITELY reads cosmopolitans once you start dating because he wants to be a good boyfriend for you <3

PDA is literally little to NONe,,, not because he doesn’t like it...it’s just because he doesn’t realize that he’s not showing you affection lololol

like in one arm he has his athletic duffel bag and the other he has a volleyball

he doesn’t mean to neglect you he just does AGAGAG

realized he liked you when he thought about you when he was drinking his milk and mindlessly bought you one too

the first time y’all kissed. he literally stared at you so intensely for a SOLID ten minutes debating in his head whether or not he should just go for it or wait or just smash his face into yours and hope your lips connect

he chose to cross his fingers and ended up smashing his forehead and nose into yours 

it was cute tho <3

hinata shoyo.

YALL HAVE DATES WHERE YOU BABYSIT HIS SISTER. WTF SO CUTE

when yall cuddle and you’re the little spoon he likes to put his head on your shoulder/between your neck and watch as you scroll through tiktok or instagram and just mindlessly talk about his day 

the type of boyfriend where neither of you can cook and you both confusedly look at recipes on google like: ????? wtf is the difference between brown sugar and regular sugar

it’s his INSTINCT to hold your hand. no matter what. his hand just...gravitates to yous.

AND HIS LIPS JUST FIND YOUR CHEEK??? like it’s so natural to him to kiss your cheek when he sees you, even in public. it’s so adorable i--

THE TYPE OF GUY TO WIPE OFF FOOD FROM THE CORNER OF YOUR MOUTH AND STILL EAT IT AND SAY “you taste good!~” AND NOT EVEN REALIZE WHAT HE SAID. BUT WHEN YOU DO IT TO HIM HE BLOWS A FUSE

he loves to tickle you. like you’ll be vibing, drinking whatever you drink in the morning and he’ll come up to you all casually and kiss you cheek...and then he’ll pounce 

he holds you close to his chest when he tickles you, partally because he likes feeling your laugh vibrate on his chest, and partially because it’s easier to not get tickled if he’s right behind you

his sister LOVes you and it just. makes him so happy

tanaka ryuunosuke.

you CANNOT remove his hand from your ass. it is permanently glued there. it is attached to you. yes, even in public.

number 1 hypeman! he will always support you, no matter what! you could be in a competition to raise the biggest beetle and he’ll be there rooting you on and staying up late with you as you rear your award-winning beetle

you two lay next to each other on the couch/on his bed and he’ll have his arm around you and you’ll lay your head on his chest as you watch netflix shows

YOU, NISHINOYA, AND TANAKA? UNSTOPPABLE TRIO. POWER TRIPLET. 

i don’t imagine him being shy when he first kisses you; the first time he kissed you, you were literally just. existing and he literally just...couldn’t hold it in...and he just went for it

literally CATAPULTS himself into you and kisses you senseless

yes you and saeko are besties she gives you ALL the tea about young tanaka

the type to take off his shirt more during practice if you’re there watching, and literally BURN red if you mention anything about his muscles

you once traced a vein in his arm and commented on how hot it was and he literally short-circuited 

kiss his biceps. kiss his abs. kiss his cheek. please. it’s all he wants. he’s touch-starved

nishinoya yuu.

SUCH an excited boyfriend

like he seriously gets so hype doing ANYTHING with you pleaSE give this man an award. you’ll be at the amusement park and the line to get into a ride will be three hours and he’ll be like

“I get to spend three hours with you?!! fucking sick! absolutely radical!” 

he’s bold in public, but only because he wants to rub you in his teammates faces, but his ears will be Red

at home, he’s calmer :) he just loves to spend time with you, even if you’re sitting on a bench watching him practice receives for five hours straight in the blazing sun. 

he just treasures your time so much, you treats you like a precious gem -- he will NEVER treat you wrong. deadass has no problem admitting when he’s wrong -- but if he thinks he’s right then he WILL stand his ground

he’s a passionate man, who loves just as passionately.

his favorite time to kiss you is after you’ve taken a sip of a soda because he likes the taste of the syrup and the burn of the carbonation, but most of all because he likes the taste of your lips in combination with all of them

NIPS AT YOUR EAR. DEADASS JUST LOOKS AT YOU BRUSH A PIECE OF HAIR BACK WHEN YOU’RE DOING HOMEWORK AND IS LIKE “free real estate” AND C H O MPS

the day nishinoya told everyone yall were dating, kiyoko stopped you in the hallway and deadass got on her knees and thanked you LITERALLY she was like “i’ll buy you anything. give the word and it’ll be yours.” 

sugawara koushi.

would kiss you on the first date. deadass. he’ll just drop you off at your doorstep and you’re still high on adrenaline, and you’re lowkey hoping he’ll kiss you and you get  little disappointed when he doesn’t and then when you least expect it. bam. his lips on yours

his smell oh god, he literally smells like fresh sugar cookies. it’s like as soon as you get anywhere near him his smell just invades you nose and. you’re powerless. you just wanna hug him

never smells bad. try me, bitch. NEVER.

his hugs are literally god’s gifts. he loves hugging you. he just completely envelopes you with his pretty setter arms and his smell takes up all the space in your head and nothing else exists for that moment, just you two

loves tucking your hair behind your ears or just moving it out of your face; doing homework and your bangs are in the way? not for long because he’ll clip them up for you <3

he’s pretty mischievous and will playfully put his hand next to your head and lean down with such a HOT look in his eyes 

and he’ll say some shit like “i wanna devour you” and then he’ll laugh afterwards and give you a kiss on the forehead and you’re standing there. like -.- o.o -.- o.o

whenever he feels insecure about his position on the team, you’re always there to comfort him and he’ll just lay between your legs and rest his face on your stomach as you comb your fingers through his hair and scroll through tiktok

PDA? yes please. uh huh. mhmm. he doesn’t care who sees his love for you he just wants to love on you baby. kisses you on the lips, no problemo

daichi sawamura.

you and suga are the only ones who can scare him when yall are mad lol

boyfriend where you’ve dated for like a year but it feel like 50 have already passed. in a good way!

this relationship is so ungodly domestic. like from the first day it’s just pure comfort and he’s like your rock and you’re his anchor

you two bicker a lot but it’s lighthearted and you just feel so secure with him that poking fun at him and at yourself is just natural

daichi. gives. god. hugs. he does. it’s fact. 

his arms are just so big and he has so much body warmth and he probably smells like some bullshit cologne like “smoldering woods” and it’s just so. daichi

you two spend the night at each other’s house so often it’s like you already live with each other and people always forget that you don’t lolol

totally sleeps with his shirt off and only with underwear. isn’t awkward about it either;  when he wakes up he puts on sweats but still remains topless (not that you’re complaining)

you two are like. the strict parental couple, when you walk together whether it be down the street or in the hallways, you just look so right for each other it’s. mind blowing

doesn’t mind kissing you a little in public but really thinks that stuff should be for private; so normally he just kisses your temple and always has an arm either around your shoulder or around your waist

WHEN THE TEAM SEES YOU KISS ON THE LIPS THEY GO “EW” EVEN SUGA AND ASAHI AFIEFHEWIF

asahi azumane.

literal fucking teddy bear. god please cuddle him. please kith him. please comb through his hair with your fingers and kiss his nape and kiss the back of his head. please i beg of you.

did NOT ask you out first. he wrote love letter to you and then waiting behind the gym because he thought being near the volleyball gym would give him some luck and them you got in front of him and he was. deer in the headlights

needless to say you asked him out and kissed his cheek. he DIED

even once yall are comfortable in the relationship he still needs reassurance every once in a while because he’s a little insecure, not that you’ll leave him for someone else, but that he’s not good enough

his PDA skill are. subpar. he usually just holds your hand and that’s it, but sometimes kisses the corner of your eye or nose and you just combust

OH RIOGEH TOTALLY DOES BUTTERFLY AND BUNNY KISSES. YES GOD YESSSSS

when yall cuddle he doesn’t like spooning. he likes to be able to see your face and the expressions you make, so doesn’t like being the little or big spoon; yall face each other and just lets your head lay on his arm even tho it’s numb. im: soft

kisses are so sweet, slow, and hesitant. he doesn’t really kiss you often because he has terrible timing but...when he does it’s like the whole world just becomes still in that moment and nothing matters but his hands on your waist and yours in his hair 

[petersasteria]

hope ur ok || holland!reader

sour masterlist || holland!reader || sour taglist

3,637 words tw: sad shit bc spoiler: someone dies, italics are flashbacks, bold is a letter i don't have a holland reader banner so i used the olivia banner instead. also, sorry for the delay of posting this lmao

* * * *

You were in your room, sitting on your bed as your eyes looked around. Your room was painted your favorite color and it made your brothers jealous because their rooms were painted white, it was boring. Yours had posters, polaroids of you and your siblings, fairy lights, a bean bag chair, and a simple full body mirror. You heard a knock on your door and you looked to see that it was Tom smiling brightly with a plate of your favorite cookies.

“Hey.” He said softly as he entered the room and shut the door behind him with his foot while balancing the plate of cookies in his hands.

“Hi.” You smiled.

“Sam kicked me out of the kitchen, but I was there first and fortunately, I finished the cookies on time. I hope they taste alright.” Tom said as he sat beside you, the plate of cookies in between you.

“They smell good, so you did a good job.” You chuckled. Tom took one cookie and looked at you, “Taste test.”

He took a bite and chewed it a few times before saying, “It tastes alright. It’s not like how Sam makes it, but I’m not Sam. I’m Tom.”

Both of you erupted into a fit of giggles as you talked about random things. The plate of cookies were now on your bedside table and only half of the cookies were eaten.

“Hey, how’s your friend?” Tom asked casually. Both of you were laying on your bed, facing the ceiling.

“Which friend?”

“The blond one who had one hell of a musical talent.” Tom said. “He used to come here and play on Sam’s piano.”

“Oh, James! I don’t really know what happened to him. We, uh, fell out of touch.”

“I see.” Tom said. “I hope he’s okay.”

“Same here.” You told him. “My friend, Madeline, got a scholarship last time I checked. She got accelerated in school and she got to attend uni ahead of us. I’m really proud of her, y’know?”

“Where is she now?” Tom asked.

You looked at Tom with sorrow in your eyes. He glanced at you and he could see how hurt you were. “We don’t talk...anymore. We used to. She’s basically like a sister to me, but we don’t talk anymore. Regardless, I’m really happy for her and I miss her. Wherever she is, I hope she’s alright.”

Suddenly, there was a knock on your door and Tom sat up quickly. The door opened and revealed Sam. “Hey, it’s time to eat dinner. You’re washing the dishes tonight, Tom!” Sam said before leaving.

“That little shit.” Tom laughed. “C’mon, Y/N. Let’s eat!” He got up from your bed and you followed suit with worry and concern in your eyes. You shook your head and shrugged it off. What you’ll say can wait.

Both of you went down to join everyone on the dining table. You sat in your usual seat, but didn’t contribute in the conversation. You were just happy to be there. You looked around and saw how happy your brothers were. You looked at your parents and saw them smiling. It was a beautiful sight to see. After all, all you wanted was for them to be happy. They deserve to be happy.

Harry and Tom cleaned up as you watched them help each other. “Next time, we should cook Y/N’s favorite dinner.” Tom said. Harry looked at him and shrugged, “Why not? I never liked it, but I’m sure she’d appreciate it very much.”

The next few days were spent with Tom. He never left your side and he made sure you were alright. You were the youngest and as the eldest Holland child, he made it his job to look after you. He wasn’t close with you before, but somehow as you grew older, it changed. Tom was now excited to spend time with you. He loved talking to you and he loved laughing with you. In his opinion, you make his stress and worries fade away.

Your birthday is coming up and he wanted everything planned out. He already had plans, actually. He knew what cake you wanted, he knew what decorations to put up, he planned the food, and he even had a theme in mind. He was really prepared. Paddy had to go with Tom in town just to buy balloons. Tom was really going all out.

“Are you going to help me set up tonight? Y/N’s birthday is tomorrow and I want her to be surprised when she wakes up. I can already imagine her face.” Tom smiled excitedly as he parked the car in the driveway.

“I can’t help you tonight. I have homework.” Paddy said as he looked at Tom who just shrugged. “Alright. No problem. Stay in school, Pads.” Tom smiled before exiting his car with Paddy following him.

They walked in and Tom saw you sitting on the arm of the couch with Sam and Harry. Tom smiled at the sight. “Hey, guys!” He greeted, causing the three of you to look at Tom and Paddy.

“Wow, you went shopping for a lot of things.” Harry pointed out.

“Yeah, what’s up with that?” Sam asked with a grin.

“Nothing.” Tom smirked. “I’ll put these in my room.” Tom left and went upstairs to his room as Paddy walked to the couch and sat next to you. You looked at Paddy and smiled. You weren’t close with him, but you loved him dearly. You were only one year younger than him and he was always kind to you and you liked hanging out with him.

You looked at Sam and Harry and you held back a chuckle as you watch them annoy each other. It was a lovely sight to see.

Night time came and dinner was over a few hours ago. You were just standing in your backyard feeling the wind blowing and you knew that something was about to happen. You just didn’t know what. The backdoor opened and you turned around to see Tom with a small smile.

“What’re you doing out here? It’s cold.” He said as he tugged his jacket closer. He walked towards you and stood beside you. “What’s on your mind?”

You shrugged, “Nothing. I guess I’m just tired. I think I’ll rest now.”

Tom nodded. He suddenly remembered his plan and said, “Yeah, you can go upstairs now. I, uh, prepared your room.”

“Thank you.” You smiled at him. You walked towards the back door and stopped to turn around to look at Tom. He was already looking at you and you said, “I- Good night, Tom.”

“Good night, Y/N. Sweet dreams.” He smiled sweetly. You opened the door and walked in and went straight up the stairs to your room.

Tom stayed outside for a minute before walking in. He locked the back door and went to the living room where his brothers were. “Hey, guys! Ready to decorate?” Tom asked with a huge smile on his face. It was evident that he was excited.

“What’re you talking about?” Sam asked, looking at Tom with a confused face.

“Yeah, what’s happening?” Paddy questioned.

Tom scoffed and crossed his arms, “How could you guys forget?! It’s our sister’s birthday tomorrow and you guys aren’t preparing at all!”

Tom was yelling as the rest were looking at him sadly. Sam’s eyes were clouded with tears as he looked at Tom. Harry and Paddy looked at Sam, not wanting to be the ones to remind Tom. Sam sighed and closed his eyes and his tears fell. He wiped his tears and opened his eyes to face Tom.

“Tom, mate, she’s dead.” Sam said softly. “She’s been dead for two months now.”

“W-What are you talking about?” Tom shook his head slowly. He looked away from Sam and he saw you standing behind Sam. “She’s right there, Sam! She’s literally right behind you! How can you not see it?!”

“Tom, stop! She’s gone, okay?!” Harry exclaimed. “Y/N’s not here! She won’t be here anymore and it’ll be that way forever. We just have to accept that.”

“It was leukemia, Tom. She didn’t make it and we had a funeral and everything.” Paddy said softly.

You were confined in the hospital for about a week now and you were getting weaker and weaker as the days went on. Your family was trying to be positive, but all of you knew that it was your time to go. Before you were confined, you had written letters for them to read after you die and it was now hidden in their drawers.

Tom and Harry weren’t there when you passed because they were in a different country. They immediately went home when they heard the news. All of you knew that you weren’t going to make it, but all of you ignored that fact. Everyone except Tom was grieving. He held his mother as she cried and he stayed strong for his brothers. He couldn’t remember the last time he and his brothers slept in one room and he hated that they chose to do it again as soon as you were gone.

It was like a sleepover. They all talked about you and everything you did that the others didn’t know about. Turns out, you had secrets you shared with everyone except Tom.

“Wait, she told you guys about her secrets?” Tom asked that night.

“Yeah.” Harry nodded, eyes bloodshot from all the crying. “If something happens to her, she tells the first person she sees.”

“She never told me anything.” Tom stated.

“That’s because you’re the eldest. No one tells people about themselves to the eldest sibling.” Paddy answered.

“That’s unfortunate.” Tom frowned. “I wish I knew the things you knew.” He added.

“It’s alright, Tom. She didn’t have major secrets, anyway. Besides, she was just scared to tell you. That’s why she did that.” Sam explained.

Tom couldn’t sleep that night as he looked at his brothers. They were cuddled up next to each other and were fast asleep. Tom couldn’t help but think of you before finally drifting off. Days later, it was the funeral. The whole house was quiet and while your mum, Nikki, would appreciate it, for once in her life she wanted the noise. She wanted to hear boisterous laughing, heavy footsteps running up and down the stairs, yelling, the sound of Sam cutting vegetables, Dom’s loud typing, Paddy talking to his friend on the phone, Harry telling you to wake up and calling you a lazy bum for not being productive, and Tom playing with Tessa outside. Now, there was none of that.

When a husband or wife dies, the one they left behind is called a widow. When a child dies, what do you call their parents? No one’s ever come up with a word for that yet because it’s too painful to think about. You were young and you deserved all the best life has to offer. Nikki was devastated, but she knew that wherever you were, you aren’t in pain anymore and that was enough for her.

Tom wanted to scream, but he didn’t. He was numb. After the funeral, he and Harry decided to take a break from traveling to spend time with the rest of the family. He stopped working for a while and everyone understood that.

When they got home, Tom went straight to his room and cried. He cried and cried until no tears came out. His head ached, but he didn’t want to get up and get himself a glass of water. He grabbed his phone from the bedside table to ask Harry, but his phone died. Tom scoffed, sat up, and reached the drawer of his bedside table. He leaned over to look for his phone charger, but he saw a letter instead. It had his name on it and he realized that it was your handwriting. Tom quickly grabbed it and put his phone back on the bedside table. He opened the envelope and read what you wrote for him.

Dear Tom,

Hi. When you read this, you know that I'm gone. I'm sorry that we never got to bond a lot. I guess it's my fault because I was so scared of you. Despite that, I want you to know that I'm really happy for you and I'm proud of you.

You're my inspiration and please know that I'm very proud to be your sister.

I don't know where I'll end up when I'm gone, but please don't worry about me. I'll be okay, I can feel it. I'll just go where the wind takes me.

You're a kind person for the whole time I've known you. I'll miss everything and I'll miss your pranks and jokes. Please never stop doing those just because I'm gone. I hope you think of me whenever you tell a joke or pull a prank on Harry again.

I wish we bonded more. I wish we made cookies until Sam kicked us out of the kitchen because he needed to prepare for dinner. I wish we watched movies together and I wish we spoke often.

I'll miss you all the time and I love you. So much. Never forget that.

Your sister,

Y/N/N x

Tom cried again until he slept with the letter resting on his chest. The next morning, he got up to go to your room. He dreamt of you and he wanted to tell you about it. He glanced at the door and noticed that it was unlocked. He slowly opened it and to his surprise, he saw you standing there watching everyone outside from your window.

“Y/N.” Tom said.

You turned around and smiled at him, “Hey, Tom.”

“I dreamt of you! And in my dream, you were a ballet dancer. We did ballet together. Wouldn't that be something? It could be a bonding thing for us." Tom said with a big smile as he fully entered your room. All of a sudden, he forgot about your sickness, your death, your sickness. From an outsider's point of view, it was a sad sight to see. He was clearly in the denial stage.

Harry was on his way downstairs when he heard a voice coming from your room. He quietly opened the door and saw Tom excitedly talking to thin air.

"You know, I'm not doing anything anytime soon. Why don't we go out? It'll just be you and me, Y/N." Tom smiled. Harry's heart broke upon hearing this. His older brother was imagining their dead sister. Harry kept it to himself because he thought that Tom was coping that way.

It wasn't until Sam witnessed the same thing. Tom was in the kitchen and he was talking to thin air once more. Sam watched as Tom laughed and said a bunch of things. Sam kept it to himself too.

Paddy, however, was different. He went to Harry and Sam's room, unannounced. He closed and locked the door behind him as the twins looked at him in confusion.

"Okay, I can't be the only one to notice it." Paddy said with arms crossed.

"What're you talking about?" Harry asked.

"Tom." Was all Paddy said. The twins looked at each other before looking back at Paddy.

"What about him?" Sam asked, his eyebrows were raised a bit.

"Tom told me that he'll bake Y/N's favorite cookies tomorrow because Y/N said she was craving for it." Paddy explained.

"I saw Tom talking to thin air the day after the funeral. He was in Y/N's room." Harry confessed.

"I saw him doing that too, but he was in the kitchen this time. I'm worried about him." Sam said.

"What should we do?" Harry asked with a frown on his face.

"Let's just let him be for a while. Let’s just intervene when it gets out of hand.” Sam decided as the other two nodded.

They just let Tom be until they had enough.

Tom couldn't believe what his brothers were telling him. He felt sick to his stomach. His baby sister was gone and the thought of it ate him alive. He shook his head and Sam said, “Tom, everything will be alright. We’ll get through this together. We’ll be fine.”

“That can’t be true. I’ve been speaking to her. Stop fucking lying.” Tom cried.

“Tom, wake up! She’s not here, alright?! She’s not in her room anymore. Her things will forever be untouched and her books will be dusty. Her phone hasn’t been charged since she died and it’ll stay that way. All we have left are pictures, videos, and memories of her. We should accept that because no matter what happens, we can’t bring her back!” Harry said as his voice was raised.

“Just go to bed, mate. You’re tired.” Paddy said softly. “We’ll deal with this in the morning.”

Tom wiped his tears and went up to his room, slamming the door. He went to sleep and dreamt of you again. Both of you were on top of a small hill and the wind was blowing softly.

“Why can’t they see you?” Tom asked you.

“Because I only showed myself to you. I know that we haven’t been really close and I figured you’d want some kind of closure. In truth, I’m only here because of you. The light has been calling me and they want me to leave already, but I can’t because I know you’d be sad. I hate seeing you sad.” You explained.

“Then stay here.” Tom begged, but you shook your head.

“You need to let me go, Tom. It’s time. I can’t stay here forever.” You chuckled lightly.

“I just- I feel like nothing. When you were around, I felt like I had a purpose. Now, I just wish I could be with you.” He admitted.

“Don’t say that. Imagine how everyone will react if you’re gone. They’ll be upset. I’m so proud that you’re alive and well because you’ll get to go on with life and grow old. If you can’t do it for yourself, then do it for me. Live the life I never got to live. Trust me when I say that you’ll be happier when you move on.”

“I don’t want to forget you and I don’t want you to think that we’re having fun without you.” He said.

“I won’t think that way because all I ever wanted for all of you is to be happy and healthy. I love you and I miss you, but I want you to have fun and to keep doing everything you love. Don’t stop because I’m gone. Don’t let me be a hindrance because that’ll make me sad and I’ll haunt you forever.” You said as Tom chuckled. “Besides, you don’t have to forget about me. I’ll always be in your heart.”

“Alright.” Tom said. “I think I’m ready to let you go.”

You smiled and nodded as you walked away and stepped into the light. Tom shouted, “Happy birthday, Y/N!”

You looked back and smiled. With that, he knew you were thanking him not just for greeting, but also for everything.

Tom woke up and it was already morning. He decided to get ready and to head to the cemetery. He walked downstairs and saw his brothers eating breakfast.

“Where are you going?” Harry asked before eating his cereal.

“The cemetery. It’s Y/N’s birthday.” Tom said. “I’ll go now. I don’t know what time I’ll be back.”

Tom left and the drive to the cemetery was short and quiet. He parked the car and walked to your grave. He smiled when he saw a small, framed picture of you that Harry placed there not too long ago. He sat in front of your grave and smiled, “Hey, Y/N. I know you can hear me.”

“I guess I did look crazy for a while and I now understand how everyone felt. I, um, I read your letter. I’m sorry too, y’know? I’m sorry I never made the effort to spend time with you. I guess it’s because all my life, I’ve only known about having brothers and when you came along, I didn’t know how to act. But I’m really happy that I got to see you grow up and I’m happy with our few moments together.”

“When you were five, I was fourteen. It’s a wide gap and I remember being so annoyed because your toys were everywhere.” He chuckled at the thought. “Regardless, I loved you and I still do. I’m happy that you grew up to be kind and loving. I’m really fucking happy for that.”

“In your letter, you said that I shouldn’t worry about you. Y/N, I’m sorry, but I can’t promise that. I’m your older brother and that automatically makes me sort of like a second parent especially when mum and dad aren’t around. So, I’ll always worry about you even though I know you’re okay and not in pain.”

“I do, however, promise to always dedicate my pranks to you. I know you’d love that. I’d wish that we bonded, but we already did that. You gave me a chance to get to know the sister I never got to know and that, above all, makes me so happy and grateful. That’s enough for me.”

“I don’t want to say cheesy shit and ask for guidance. I don’t want to burden you in heaven. Like, it’s called a resting place for a reason and I want you to rest easy. I just want to say that I miss you so much and I love you. Happy birthday.” He finished.

Just then, he felt the wind blow in his direction and he knew that you were okay.

* * * *

𝐒𝐎𝐔𝐑 𝐓𝐀𝐆𝐋𝐈𝐒𝐓: @celestialholland @alinastarkrovs @piscesparker @prancerrparkerr @spideyspeaches @givebuckyhisplumsnow @blueleatherbag @theonly1outof-a-billion @hollandbroz-n-haz @starlight-starks @webmeupspiderdaddy @studiesinspanish @bi-lmg @minejungwoo @blossomhollands @markhyucksmells @ilikealotofpeople-younotsomuch

[ponett]

hi i watched the new my little pony movie and it was... pretty good! it was very cute, i like the new cast a lot, there were some nice heartfelt moments that had some surprising depth, all the locations were really pretty to look at, the poppy musical numbers were fun, the character animation is really lively. it's a solid little fantasy adventure flick for kids. i do have mixed feelings about the story though. here are some casual-ish thoughts. (i posted some of this on twitter last night but i have even more thoughts now. i'm sorry. i'm so sorry)

spoilers below the cut

okay so, i liked it a lot when it was just letting the new characters play off each other, but unfortunately my fears came true and almost the entire movie is laser focused on the oversimplified extremely on-the-nose trump era racism allegory plot. i do have to cut it some slack for their good intentions, and this is a 90 minute animated movie for 5-year-olds, so there's only so much they can do. it did also have a bit more nuance than i expected at points. (it's more nuanced than zootopia, for what it's worth. not that that's hard.) and hell, friendship is magic also screwed up its attempts at similar topics, and y'all know how much i still love that show. so it's not like i hate this movie. but it has such an oversimplified "we should all be friends!" take on real issues, and it frustrates me that it completely dominates the film, being the main focus of almost every single scene

there's some interesting stuff where they show how those in power are stoking peoples' fears to maintain their own power. like the big factory in the earth pony town is essentially an arms manufacturer capitalizing on the fear of outsiders, the cops mainly exist to uphold the laws segregating the ponies, the pegasus royal family pretends they still have the ability to fly and this lie seems to be the only reason they're in power (the queen literally gets arrested the second the truth comes out lol). but then they all just kind of... see the error of their ways shortly after meeting other types of pony, and there are no repercussions? not saying this toy commercial cartoon for little girls needs to fuckin kill the bad guys or throw them in jail or whatever, but we don't even get like a "they made them turn the arms factory into something else" type resolution, and no one even really acknowledges that these characters did anything wrong. no one is considered an oppressor, the movie takes for granted that these people in power who derive their power from bigotry were just misguided, and that they'll totally change their beliefs as soon as they're presented with new information. society is fundamentally unjust, but none of the individuals maintaining that unjust status quo are at fault for doing so

i also don't know if it's a good or bad thing that there's no explanation for why the ponies hate each other now. like on the one hand at least there's no historical backstory that inadvertently justifies the prejudices (like zootopia and its story about how the predators used to eat the prey). but on the other hand... how the hell did they get from g4 to here in the intervening centuries? at my most uncharitable it feels like this whole story about how equestria used to be this land where everyone got along and now everyone is divided is a heavy-handed metaphor for The Sudden Division Of America In The Trump Era as it's perceived by a lot of liberals. history didn't logically lead us to this point, no one is really at fault, everyone just arbitrarily started hating each other at some point and we just all need to put that aside and get along again. it's almost the FiM episode about how the cowboys and the natives should just learn to share all over again. (again: i will admit this is an uncharitable read of the film)

(sidebar with BIG SPOILERS: the very end also really bugged me, but that's more just a personal taste thing. in the leadup to g5 i was excited to see them make an earth pony the protagonist. i thought that was a nice change of pace after nine seasons of twilight. but then in the end of the movie, after sunny delivers the moral, she's magically turned into an alicorn... like oh we're just doing that again huh. okay. it also doesn't really gel with this story where the different types of pony are being used for a racism/xenophobia allegory)

i feel a little bad hyper-focusing on the way the allegory falls apart like this, but like. the allegory is the entire fucking movie lol. they are constantly talking about it in every scene, the first song mentions "building a wall," the main antagonist (who may or may not be intended to evoke trump???) manipulates the earth ponies' prejudices to make them all go full fascist, etc. it is not subtle. of course, this story isn't ALL bad - the adventures along the way were fun, i was relieved when everyone realized that the macguffin wouldn't magically make everyone get along again (although realizing this DOES make the macguffin restore everyone's magic which seems to mostly fix everything, so... lol), and a message about looking past stereotypes and misinformation to befriend people who are different from you definitely isn't a bad one for a kids' film. and obviously a story with this target demographic is ALWAYS going to have to simplify reality a bit. it's just extremely obvious that they wanted to go for a nuanced topical political story that would surprise the parents in the audience and maybe teach kids a thing or two, and it turned out messy

but again, i liked the characters. it was nice to look at. it was cute. i'll gladly watch a new show with these characters. i hope the inevitable show focuses less on this political allegory though lol

anyway there's a shot of fluttershy and rainbow dash in the opening scene so 10/10

[jeongvision]

nct’s jaehyun’s perfume collection review!! (pt.2)

**for part one, please refer to here!

hello and welcome back, everyone! i’m back with another perfume review of nct’s jeong jaehyun’s perfume collection! i love smelling and collecting perfumes so this was a perfect excuse to know how he ‘smells’ like!

in this post, i will be reviewing:

tom ford fucking fabulous

byredo bal d’afrique

again, for each of the scents, i will be adding photos associated with each perfume along with my reviews/reactions and listing if it’s masculine/feminine, my recommendation, and rating!

disclaimer: again, this is NOT an advertisement but simply a fun and personal review of his perfume collection! but seriously an endorsement deal would be nice like i’ve seen so many people buying his scents after publishing my first post

before you buy!! some of the fragrances will react differently on your skin as the scents are based on your body chemistry with certain chemicals listed on their ingredients. thus, you may smell a different scent when sprayed on your body than on mine. not only that, some of the perfumes utilizes synthetic ingredients, which can be a deterrent for those with a sensitive nose. i strongly recommend sampling them out at local stores before purchasing as these brands are expensive.

warnings: heavy cursing, some vulgar language lmao (they will be listed as [**] if you would like to skip those parts, especially for minors)

TOM FORD FUCKING FABULOUS

“Tom Ford’s iconoclastic leather scent is spicy, warm and decadent. A gourmand almond and iris heart imbue textural richness to the luscious leather, intensified by floral orris accord. The effect is so exquisitely beautiful, no other name would do.” —Tom Ford

oh my god

oh my fucking gOD

WHAT THE FUCK

OH MY FUCKING GOD HE SMELLS SO FUCKING SEXY WHAT RHEBFUCUU

[**] HE LITERALLY SMELLS LIKE OFFICE SEX

[**] LIKE CEO! JAEHYUN CALLING YOU INTO HIS OFFICE AND HIM BENDING YOU OVER HIS THOUSAND DOLLAR DESK AND RAILING YOU LIKE A GOOD WHORE YOU ARE

[**] HE SMELLS LIKE A FUCKING DILF I FUCKING CAN’T DO THIS ANYMORE

WHAT THE FUCK AM I SUPPOSED TO DO WITH THIS INFORMATION NOW??!!?!

OH MY GODDDDDDDDD

so anyways

back to the program

it smells like spicy vanilla

but make it sexy LMFAO

like i said in my previous post, i’m not a big fan of vanilla scents

and i would like to add that i’m also not a big fan of spicy scents

initially, i wasn’t too hyped of the scent after spraying it on my forearm bc the spice overpowered the vanilla a little

but after it settled and the intensity of the spice faded a little

it smelled so sEXY OH MY GOD

like i’m just imagining him using it??

and i just—

i literally combust

externally and internally HAHAHA

i was having thoughts the whole time and i still can’t stop thinking about it

but yeah i’ve noticed that with the tom ford scents: it smells soooo much better once you let it settle on your skin for a bit

if you were to ask me to pick between this scent and white suede, i’d pick white suede by a close margin

they’re both very distinct but so charming in their own ways

[**] lmao i asked my friend who also smelled this if she agrees that it smells like office sex and she was like

[**] ‘i was thinking more like getting fucked by my hot professor in an empty classroom but office sex works too’

[**] so basically he smells like sex

i rest my case

[**] fuck me daddy

masculine or feminine? masculine!

recommend? only if you see yourself using this. i bought this as an atomizer (10 ml) so the only time i would be using this is when i spray it on my sweater and smell it while i type up a scenario thinking of him LMFAOO

rating: 9/10 (again, i’m not too big of a fan with vanilla and spicy scents!)

BYREDO BAL D’AFRIQUE

“With a focus on beauty and fantasy, Bal d’Afrique is Ben Gorham’s ‘love letter’ to Africa. Wanting to sum up and celebrate the reach and influence of Africa through time, particularly the way its myriad cultures have shaped dance, art and music, the idea of an imaginary event.” —Byredo

this was actually a surprise??

you would think that with all the scents i’ve reviewed so far, this one would be something leathery or musky

or at least powdery

but this one was actually sweet!

like a fruity type of sweet!

but adult version LOL

some people said it has a citrus touch to it and i kind of smell it??

i see it more fruity tbh

but like i said, different body chemistries and such

this is a scent that he said he’s been using lately during nct u’s make a wish promo era

and i believe he mentioned during an interview that he uses this perfume during the summer

with the tom ford fucking fabulous during the winter and said something like:

‘that should give you an idea of what kind of style/person i am.’

motherfucker has TASTES I CAN TELL YOU THAT

THE RANGE HE HAS???

how is he even real wtf

honestly i am so in love with this scent

i’ve been wearing it almost every time i’ve been going out omg it’s so nice

and one of my friends complimented it so you KNOW shit’s smell good

this might be my new favorite perfume it’S SO NICE WHAT THE HELL

HIS TASTES— HOW

do i want to buy the whole bottle

it’s tempting fUCK

rip my wallet :(

masculine or feminine? feminine!!

recommend? HELL FUCKING YEAH IT SMELLS SO NICE OMG I LOVE IT AND THE FACT I CAN WEAR IT TOO IS SO NICE

rating: the # of nct members now/10

tl;dr— he’s still smelling sexy as ever and i don’t think i’m okay

[the-insomniac-emporium]

Serenade (Daniela Dimitrescu/Reader) Pt. 2

Fandom: Resident Evil: Village Pairing: Daniela Dimitrescu/Reader Rating: T for language and blood + references to violence Warning: Lil bit of kisses with dubious consent (initial surprise, then “hmm this is nice, I guess”), as well as a tiny bit of blood. Oh, and, ya know, mild referenced cannibalism. Notes: Still no beta reader, we die like innocent chickens unfortunate enough to be in Ethan Winters’ way. Also, I’m hoping this isn’t too ramble-y, I kinda. Got excited. Maybe sorta stayed up late to write this instead of sleeping, so... PS sorry for the cliffhanger, I could not resist. Next chapter will include the reader earning their PHD in Bullshittery, while also moving us into the, like, actual central plot of Serenade (or at least the part that the romance revolves around). Previous Chapters: Pt. 1: Nocturne

Chapter 2: Overture

     By the time you made it back to the maidens' quarters, it was nearly half an hour after your "shift" officially ended. Daniela hadn't taken up that much of your time, but her words had instilled a vigorous sense of anxiety in you, which had only drawn out your remaining tasks. You also weren't terribly looking forward to being interrogated by your coworkers. What would you even say? "Oh yeah, I accidentally played a note on the forbidden piano but instead of killing me, Lady Daniela just flirted with me and let me go! Haha smiley face emoji!"

     Yeah, that would definitely go over great with the others. Maybe you could get away with pretending you hadn't been the one to play? Even though, you know, your daily duties were posted on the same wall as everyone else's, and anyone could see that you were the only person working in the music room today. Damnit, you think, everyone is always a bit tense when someone "gets off easy". Not that it happened terribly often. It simply made people nervous, considering they never knew if the Ladies of the house had been denied the "stress relief" they so desired, and whether or not they would want to take it out on someone else.

     Hoping things would sail a little smoother this time, you took a deep breath and pushed the door to your quarters open. As soon as you stepped in you felt a dozen pairs of eyes turn your way. There had been muffled talking as you approached, but now it was silent, a heavy curtain of discomfort hanging over the room. Well, fuck, you thought, struggling to think of how to react. In the end you settled with a slightly-too-enthusiastic wave and a shy smile.

     “What the hell is wrong with you?” One of the maidens asks, almost instantly, eyes narrowed and eyebrows furrowed with confusion. If you remembered correctly, her name was Cynthia, and she was one of the (currently) longest running survivors. The two of you hadn’t spoken before, which made her next move all the more confusing. Without much of a warning she moved in front of you, reaching out to grab your hands, before gently holding them in front of her chest. When she speaks, it’s with a hushed voice. “How are you not dead right now?”

     “I… have absolutely no idea,” you replied, doing what you could to avoid her gaze, but ending up meeting eyes with the others in the room.

     “When you didn’t get back with everyone else… we assumed the worst,” Daphne, the closest thing you had to a best friend, said. She was towards the front of the small crowd of maidens, all of whom were now gathering around you out of curiosity. “You’re probably just lucky that Lady Dimitrescu wasn’t home while you played, otherwise, well, I think we can all guess what would have happened.”

     “Thank the Mother for that, literally,” Cynthia chimed, dropping your hands as she did. That caught your interest for sure. Despite being part of an eccentric “extended family”, it wasn’t that often that Lady Dimitrescu actually left the castle to visit the other Lords; or their leader, for that matter. Was something big coming? Or was it simply time for a regular check up? You didn’t have time to ponder that thought, as soon Cynthia was speaking again. “Now, please, regale us with your story, dear. It must certainly be interesting… seeing as you escaped unscathed.”

     “Alright, alright,” you said, putting your hands up in a “slow down” motion. Sighing, you moved over to your bed, sitting on the edge, before starting to tell the others what happened. You left out a few details, such as the severity of Daniela’s flirting, as well as the way she touched you. By the time you reached the end of your story, the other maidens had settled in a semi circle around you. A few had started to get ready for the day shift while you spoke, but their movements were deliberately slow, and their gasps let you know they were definitely listening. It was, however, difficult to tell how anyone really felt about what you were saying. Were they looking worried because they were concerned for your safety, or for their own?

     Hard to say. All you knew at the end of night was that no one was looking forward to the following night.

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

     Every shadow in the corner of your eyes makes your heart skip a beat. All day (night, technically) you’ve been overly paranoid, expecting Daniela or one of her sisters to pop out at any moment, their sickles raised, blood-stained lips pulled up into a grin, promises of violence dripping from their mouths. So far your anxiety had proven irrational. Experience, on the other hand, was reverse-reassuring you with memories of maidens you had hardly had time to get to know. Who were you to avoid such a fate? Could playing a little song really justify your existence to these people? These mutants?

     Distracting thoughts like that swirled around your mind for hours, leaving you feeling faint and dizzy, as you desperately tried to focus on your work. Ironically, it was your tunnel vision on your worries that brought them to life.

     “Humph, you should really pay more attention, sweet thing,” a voice whispers, right besides your ear. Immediately you jump, a little yelp escaping you, and whirl around to see who had crept up on you. Your wide open eyes soon settled on the youngest Dimitrescu daughter. A toothy grin lit up her face as she took you in, leaning in just close enough for you to feel her breath. “Missed me?” She asks, words melting into a fit of giggles. One moment she’s face to face with you, the next she’s evaporating into a swarm of insects, moving around the room with frightening speed before settling on a nearby table. Both her legs dangle off the edge, swinging a little in a childlike manner.

     “Lady Daniela, I-” you stutter, hardly able to will yourself to speak. You can’t help but glance at the table with a feeling of anxiety, knowing that you had just finished cleaning it, and wonder if your work would be for naught. But it seems that Daniela doesn’t appreciate you focusing on something other than her. Again she buzzes into a cloud, this time coming closer to you, the insects circling you, occasionally tugging at your skin. Fight or flight tries to kick in, yet all you manage to do is freeze in place.

     You don’t open your eyes until the sound of hundreds of wings beating dies down. Fresh drops of blood trickle down your brow, as well a few from smaller cuts on your arms. Panic still roots you in place, even as you stare up at Daniela with a frightened expression. At first all she does is laugh. Loudly, with no softness to it at all. This was exactly the sort of thing that you had been afraid of in the first place.

     “Oh, you poor little thing… Did that hurt?” Daniela asks, trailing a hand up your arm, pausing just before her fingers touch blood. Then she leans in, once more putting her lips right next to your ear, slowly pulling off one of her gloves as she does. “Good. Maybe you’ll pay more attention to me now. You really should, being in love with me and all.” She says it so casually, and with such conviction, that you almost wonder if she knew something that you didn’t. Though you try to turn to look at you, you find her gloved hand holding your head in place. The other moves so slowly that you almost don’t notice it until her thumb is sliding across your forehead. Blood smears as she does this, but she doesn’t bother trying to be neat about it.

     Instead she simply brings the finger back towards herself, her other hand turning your face as she does, so that you could make eye contact as she licks her thumb clean. As soon as the blood hits her tongue her eyelids flutter and a soft moan rises in her throat. Astoundedly the sound brought a strong blush to your cheeks. It was less about attraction per se, more about the inherently intimate nature of the moment. Daniela was so close, her hand resting on the back of your head, her eyes slowly returning their focus to you. When she sees you she can’t help but don a prideful grin.

     “You taste even better than I expected, sweet thing- what a fitting nickname, mhmm?” Another giggle, another rush of blood to your cheeks. In the rush of the moment you found your fear fading out, slowly, gradually being replaced by a mix of confusion and… warmth? What is wrong with me, you think, mind racing with countless half-thoughts.

     Suddenly, as quick as the strongest of impulses, you found yourself being pulled closer to Daniela, her bare hand moving to rest on your waist. For once her eyes left your own. Now they drifted lower, to your lips, giving you a single moment to realize her intentions before she acts on them. Your lips collide with hers before you can even think to protest. It’s a million times softer than you would have ever imagined- not that you had imagined. But now that you had felt this… damnit, you know you shouldn’t enjoy it, yet you found yourself kissing back nonetheless. It wasn’t like it meant anything, right? Not like you’d have a chance to kiss anyone else around the castle, either.

     Within a couple moments you realize two things: One, Daniela was smiling into the kiss. Two, by Jove (by Miranda?) was she seemingly inexperienced. Based on how much flirting she had done, you had naturally assumed that she was in no way, shape, or form new to this. The kiss was a bit sloppy, although passionate, and Daniela seemed quick to mimic your movements. More than that, it seemed like she was unable to catch her breath (did she even need to breathe? Or were the movements more out of habit than anything else?). By the time she pulls away she needs to gasp, and you’re left absolutely reeling, unsure how to process any of this. On the other hand, Daniela was softly grinning, gently resting her forehead against your own.

     “Delectable, darling,” she murmurs. There’s a softness to her voice that you simply cannot fathom is real, at least not entirely so. Then a pause, with her gently running her fingers through your hair, before she gives you one more little peck on the lips. When she pulls away, just far enough to really look at you, you see something in her eyes that fills you with dread: Hunger. “I think I know what you want, what you need. You want to be with me, forever, a part of me, don’t you? They always do, in the end…” Her eyes shift to your neck, and suddenly her grip on you is dangerously tight.

     Instantly you shift into panic mode, trying to squirm out of her grasp to no avail. This seems to irritate Daniela, who digs her nails into your waist, making you gasp. Without hesitation she seizes the opportunity to push you against the nearest wall, the hand that had caressed you so gently now pinning you down. Your thoughts are racing, desperately searching for anything that might buy you some time to get away, or even dissuade her entirely. But seconds tick by with nothing coming to light, your hope quickly fading. Gulping, you squeeze your eyes shut, ready to accept your fate.

     And then… it hits you. An idea, maybe, that might just be stupid enough to work. Here goes nothing…

     “Wait! Don’t you want me to show you my love?” You ask, somehow managing to mask the pure terror you were feeling. Hell, you slipped in a bit of confidence, sounding far, far more sure of yourself than you really were. Apparently it was enough to give Daniela pause. Her teeth had been mere inches from your neck, but now she was watching you closely, head tilted at a slight angle. “I can hardly do that if you kill me so soon, love. Don’t you want to see everything I have to offer? To know me truly, fully, before we become as one?” Another pause, a little hum from Daniela, then a slow, spine-chilling smile.

      “Go on, then… show me.”

[lovesanmotion]

yandere!ateez as fanboys

Hongjoong: 

The moment he hears one song from your latest album, it immediately swept him off his feet from the ground and made the decision to stan you. You are his favorite soloist. The moment he hears your latest comeback album, he immediately listened to all your other songs and made his research about you that night. Of course, the caffeine boosting him. 

He made a lot of social media accounts just to follow you. Twitter, Instagram, Youtube, you name it. He would follow your every move and post. But is still didn’t feel the same. To Hongjoong, he felt like he was still missing a large chunk of your life and he didn’t want that. The next night, he pulled a couple of strings and ta dah! had access to your very personal information. And he felt so complete afterwards. 

To you, Hongjoong was just one of your few male fans that you adore. I mean, the guy makes covers of your songs. And part of you agreed that when he made his own remix of your songs, it would sound 10000% better than the original. However, you just didn’t noticed the subliminal messages and tones he inserted in his remixes. 

Seonghwa: 

Seonghwa was one of those rare male fansites you have. Being in a 7 member girl group called Starlight, you are the group’s visual, main dancer, lead vocalist, center and face of the group. Once your group made its debut, fame automatically found you. 

Endorsements here and there, landing yourself in various commercial films and even coming to be a guest of variety shows. Your popularity instantly swept off and in a blink of an eye, the whole of South Korea knew your name. And your name tasted delicious in HwaLight_Y/N. Seonghwa’s fansite name dedicated to you. He thought of a name that would connect him to you. Hwa meaning star, replacing the english word and thus the birth of the fansite name. 

With his good looks, he too became known amongst the fans. He was known as your handsome fansite master. And since he was one of the rare male fansites you have, you would immediately recognize him from afar. Smiling at his camera and waving at him. Much to Seonghwa’s delight, he felt like there was already a deep connection between you two. And he wanted more of that. 

He started coming to your unofficial group activities. Slippiing his way inside the venue just to be able to feel your presence a few feet from him. He started purchasing flight and hotel information from other “fans” and would purchase the seat closest to you or the room nearest yours. 

Didn’t noticed those red beaming lights hidden inside your hotel room when you’re changing clothes or taking a shower? Click click! Or you were dead asleep tired from rehearsals when someone barged into your room? Click click! Ever noticed how your favorite red lace underwear went missing only to come back with a stain? Click click! 

Yunho: 

At first, he wasn’t entirely dazzled by you. Yunho was just a regular idol manager who would follow you into your every activities and schedules. He needed the money, plus, companies like him for his tall and muscular physique. The kind of person that can ward off creepy or scary fans that tried to get close to you.

You, on the other hand, is an ex member of your former girl group but found fame as a solo artist. Your debut song swept the charts and immediately won every single music show chart. Topping music chart billboards in every country. Despite all the glitz and glamor that followed you, you felt lonely and desperate for human touch. 

It wasn’t supposed to be how Yunho, naked and in between your legs. How such alcohol can make you two do things that violates his contract with you. One night was all it takes for him to see a completely different side of you. And he wanted more of that. 

Yunho became more protective towards you. Becoming more aggressive to anyone who dares lay a hand on you. Even going as far as sleeping in one bed with you as he thinks “its completely necessary, who know, someone might be barging into your room in the middle of the night?”  You can never get away from him. Companies like him, remember? With his clean records, your company would do anything to keep him signed with you. 

Yeosang: 

Channel YNbyYS is a youtube channel run by Yeosang. It’s the platform wherein he posts his dance covers to your group’s songs. With a bit of his dancing elements and the original choreography of your group, the blend came out much nicer than what everyone expected. His heart leaped more at the idea of you endorsing a chicken brand. From that day forward, he became a regular of the certain chicken brand nearest to him. 

Yeosang may seem like a complete innocent and harmless fanboy. But do you ever what he is behind his dance covering youtube channel? Why, he is the second most influential person in your company. The son of your own CEO. He had his very own place within the company. And he uses it to the extent of getting closer to you. 

The gifts that came into your company? Those are ALL Yeosang’s gifts for you. From the dresses to the shoes. He shamelessly threw away other gifts’ that were for you because according to him “he is the only relevant and special person that can offer you gifts”. Anything else is directly to the bin. 

And you wonder how your “fans” know your taste in fashion. 

Mingi: 

Mingi, before being blacklisted by your company, was just a regular fanboy of your group. You were the group’s main rapper and the lyrics to your bars spoke volumes to him. He was just casually listening to your verses and mixtapes until one day, he realized that he wanted to be more than just your fanboy.

It started slowly when he would attend your group’s fansigns and even follow you towards the airport. But the bodyguards prevented him from coming anymore closer to you. And so he did the unthinkable. Knocking down a bodyguard that was shielding you and enveloping you in his arms. His heartbeat raced and he felt a second heartbeat between his pants. With you in his arms, he only realized how petite yet handful you are. Hands running all over your body, burying his nose in your hair inhaling that soft and sweet strawberry shampoo that you use. 

Despite being blacklisted, he never cared about going public and meeting you at your group or individual activities. Instead, he resorted to barging into your dorm. Whether you’re home or not. 

 San: 

You are your group’s maknae and visual. Dubbed as Korea’s IT Girl, your face can be found anywhere in Seoul. From commercial films to leading Korean dramas, releasing your own solo album and attending fashion weeks, you are always the talk of the town. Whenever your name comes up, its always met with praises. Of course, the people loves you! You are a crowd and fan favorite. 

And you had managed to capture the eyes and heart of San. Calling himself as your number 1 fan. He was never absent in any of your activities. Getting front row seats in your concerts, being present at your variety shows and even buying products that you endorse - soju, cosmetics, literally anything. 

To your fans, he is the biggest fanboy you ever had. And it was quite entertaining to watch him profess his love to you. You even chuckled a few of his pick up lines that he threw at you during your fansigns. When asked if you had anything memorable that a fan ever did to you, the answer would always be San. 

Behind closed doors, San kept a dirty secret. Remember how he always gets front row seats to your concerts? He hid a camera in his clothes to film your upskirt. Beating his meat every night to his own collection of your tight and revealing clothing. Remember how you would endorse anything? He’d buy it and imagine how ripping it off your body feels like. His greatest possession? Your black lingerie. Too bad, you’re never getting it back. 

Wooyoung: 

ForYN is a website account run by Wooyoung. He regularly updates his content - from posting your pictures that are uploaded today, to your daily activities, the products you use and a little sub website from his channel wherein he writes poems and graphical fanfiction of himself with you. But of course no one would ever read between the lines. The way how Wooyoung would write would be so poetical and endearing that it? doesn’t? have? any? hidden? meaning? 

He only came once to your fansign and gave you a pink teddybear. It wasn’t the best gift you owned but you liked it somehow. There was something about the teddybear that you didn’t know why you’re into it. Its just a plain gift but everytime you look at it, its as if you’re drawn to it. 

Maybe becuase you didn’t noticed how it has camera eyes? 

Wooyoung’s love for you deepened when he caught you humping on the pink teddybear. Cum splattering all over its face. It was just one gift, but it was everything to you. 

And Wooyoung’s working on the next entry for his fanfiction. 

Jongho: 

For today, you were having your own vlive. Doing what you called a YN mukbang. As the convenient food store you bought was placed on the table, you began to greet yours fans, asking them how they are feeling before digging in your food. Among the hundreds and thousands of viewers, Jongho was one of them. 

He was engrossed in two things: one, how adorable and beautiful you look despite just eating. Second, the rude comments that were popping up in your live video. Rude remarks of body shaming were what caught his attention. He took his time digging deeper into someone else’s username and IP address. Once he got a hold of their information, he would report those comments and head out. In his disguise while hunting the people who made disguisting remarks at you. No one should ever make such remarks to a goddess.