creepy fans much

Q3: In relation to the lyrics in「JUST ONE DAY」「I want to peacefully fall asleep intoxicated with your sweet scent」what’s your favorite scent?

SUGA
A3. Scent of fruits. Not those artificial, but natural things. If there’s someone that I like, I hope that she will have the scent of body lotions instead of perfumes. If there’s too much perfume, my head will hurt. I prefer perfumes that are not too strong.

© trans by kimmy-trans

(Fragrances used by bangtan)

Jungkook
Victoria’s Secret Sexy little things Noir Tease body mist (black vanilla + pear + gardenia / elegant, lovely and seductive)

Bath and Body Works Mango Tango Twist body lotion

Bath and Body Works Paris Amour body lotion (strawberry + not so sweet floral note with musk and sandalwood, it’s a warm scent)

© trans by peachisoda

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Request: Demon Doll

Request: Can you do a one shot where the reader is extremely afraid of the movie chucky & Dean gets an idea and buys the doll and does scare prank on her that probably scared her for life and she gives him a silent treatment (they’re a couple btw) and you can just make it up as it goes ☺️ thanks!

Word Count: 770

Here it is, I hope you like it! Thanks!<3

“Dean, I don’t know.” You frown, for once doubtful of his movie choice, “I don’t think this is a good idea.”

“You literally fight worse than this every day.” He insists, “I’ve seen it before, and it’s not that bad.”

You shrug, “I’m just not sure. I’m not a big fan of creepy toys. Much less murderous ones.”

“Come on.” Dean wraps an arm around your shoulders, “If you get scared, just hide behind me.”

You narrow your eyes but nod, “Fine, then. But I’m coming crying to you when I’m scared shitless.”

“I’d expect nothing less.” He grins.

And so you’re goaded into watching Chucky. You’ve never seen it before but from what you know, it’s not your kind of ‘haha that wasn’t anything like real life I can sleep soundly knowing that it’s a load of crap’ film. One of the first cases you ever worked involved a creepy-ass doll and you aren’t a big fan of that horror tactic. Still, Dean could be right. Maybe you’re overreacting.

***

You weren’t overreacting. Dean was wrong. It was horrible and awful and it took you until half past four in the morning to even think of sleep, and you only managed because Dean was there, right beside you. He merely laughed it off, though, as if it doesn’t matter that you’re scared.

You sleep fitfully, mind plagues with images of a red-headed doll. When you wake up at about eight, the other side of the bed is empty but for a note.

Gone on a quick supply run, it reads in Dean’s somewhat sloppy script, Be back in an hour or two. Love you –D

You smile slightly, rolling over and out of bed. You pull a loose robe over yourself and leave the bedroom, bare feet padding against the cool wooden floor. You find your way to the kitchen, pour a cup of coffee, and go over to the fridge to get milk. You open the door and-

Ah!” You yelp, only just catching yourself from falling backwards as you scramble away from the demon doll that’s residing in your fridge, “What the hell?” You find yourself shaking like a leaf and blinking back tears, sheer panic flooding through your veins.

Dean, on the other hand, moves from behind the door. He’s laughing until he sees your terrified expression. He sobers up quickly as you kick the door shut, your whole body feeling light and shaky.

“Y’know,” You say, more to yourself than to him, “I might just drink it black this morning.”

You pick up the coffee and make for the library, going back to the books you were cataloguing yesterday. When you arrived here, the logs of what books were where and when had been almost totally destroyed and so you and Sam have been trying to log all of them into a blank ledger that you found. You’re only about halfway through.

Still, every time a floorboard creaks or a pipe whistles you spin around, a little freaked. After about a half hour, you hear real footsteps and almost knock the bookshelf over, until you hear Dean’s voice.

“Y/N?”

You stay silent, though, not willing to talk to him.

“Y/N, come on.”

“Talk to me.”

“I’m sorry.”

“That was really mean and I shouldn’t have done it.”

“Please don’t give me the silent treatment.”

“Come onnnnnn.” He whines. He doesn’t come any closer to you, though, for fear of you spinning around and smacking him one. He’d deserve it.

“Alright, I know I deserve this but you’re nice. Forgive me?”

To his credit, he doesn’t leave the library for three hours while you work, writing things down and going through dusty old tomes, occasionally getting sucked into reading a passage or a page or a chapter. He doesn’t talk much, though. After exactly three hours (he’d been counting from the clock on the wall) he stands up.

“Look, I know you’re mad at me and I was a total dick and I’m sorry. I don’t like it when you won’t even look at me, never mind talk to me!”

You turn around, looking at him properly for the first time, “Yeah, you were a dick. I told you I was scared and you just ignored that.”

“I’m sorry.” He says, voice small, “I threw the doll away.”

You offer a smile, “Good. But next time I say I’m scared of something, you gotta-“

“Respect that. I got it.” He takes a step towards you, opening his arms. You can’t resist going ahead and hugging him tightly, letting his arms envelops you in their safe embrace.

Holey moley, guys, I actually did it. I drew Harry Potter. I’ve been rather inspired by Burdge and other lovely artists lately, and when I revived my HP obsession during finals week, I wanted so badly to be able to draw the characters (cuz, y’know, the movie versions just don’t cut it). And I’ve been struggling the last week, cause I really have never been able to draw people…

But I did it!

Because perseverance pays off, y’all. Remember that.

Of course, I didn’t mean to draw him looking so pensive, it just came out that way. Oops. So I kinda imagine this Harry as the one that’s just experienced that huge paradigm shift; he’s found out he has to sacrifice himself and that nothing is as it seemed to be for so long. And he’s walking down to the Forbidden Forest, lost and a bit forlorn, and he hasn’t yet remembered the snitch that Dumbledore left him that holds the resurrection stone that gives him one last glimpse of those people that he’s learned SO MUCH from and holey moley run on sentence but ugh, I love this part of the story…