his noise .!

yoongi; i don’t like you(r cooking)

❝to say yoongi was excited or at the least interested in you was an understatement. on the other hand, do you know what is undercooked? your chicken pie.
►3341 words // scenario, post-based

Yoongi wakes up to a shit ton of noise outside his door and already he can foresee this is going to be a terrible day. Out of all the days he gets a break and it’s going to be one where the management decides to play a game of ‘what noise does Min Yoongi hate the most on a peaceful and quiet day?’ Oh yeah, Yoongi dreads for when they carry out a renovation or quote services to improving your stay here unquote bullshit.

So what does he do?

He, apparently, walks out of his bedroom with a disheveled appearance that paints him to be a caveman hibernating for god knows how long and yanks his front door open in irritation. With eyes barely able to open and mouth still full of cotton, he only registers what’s going on when his conscious saves him the guessing and reveals the answer in a form of a person with… a pie?

He gives himself a wakeup call to rub his eyes and shake off the sleepiness heavy in his system, willing to a couple of seconds before he confirms that he’s not seeing things. Blinking two consecutive times, he still sees a pie. Okay, it is a pie. No doubt about it there.

His eyes direct him to the owner of the pie and it’s a face he’s never seen before. Admittedly, he isn’t good with faces but if he saw this one… let’s say chances were high he’d recall.

Yoongi decides to be polite… first.

“Can I help you?”

Nervousness shows in your smile, anxiety trembling at your fingertips as they drum the bottom of aluminium casing. Shifting your weight from left to right, the will to man up and say something dipping in your eyes before you find the words to speak, he only waits patiently (not bad, Min Yoongi).

“H-Hi. I live next door and I wanted to come down to-”

“That old lady finally decided to sell her place?”

Look, Yoongi can only try to be polite.

“I’m sorry?”

“…oh shit. Okay, what I meant was-”

“Yes, she did,” You cut him off before he can try to explain himself and if that wasn’t the definition of being saved by the bell, Yoongi doesn’t know what is. He sighs in relief and shakes his head, eyes clenched shut with a soft how do I say this and he does say it as: “I’m kinda… how you call it…”

“…direct? Honest?”

“Woah, one assumption at a time,” He holds a hand up, the other resting by his hip and when your smile drops from the slight hospitality, he breaks out into a grin, “Both right, by the way,”

“Good to know the few times I decide to be a smart ass it works out,”

He puts his hand out, “I’m Yoongi,”

You juggle the pie on your forearm, a free hand inching out to place in his for a small shake, “I’m Y/N, as I would’ve introduced before,”

“Ah, right,” Yoongi retracts his hand, as to how yours return to hold onto the pie, “You new here?”

“Have you seen me before?” Your head tilts a little at the end of your question, and Yoongi finds it easy to smile in the early of the day when he should be asleep. In other words, he’s one hell of a grump if he’s interrupted in his sleep so to be smiling at this hour where he’d murder anyone who dares threaten his rest… it speaks miles of Yoongi’s patience here.

“If I did, I would’ve remembered that face,”

There’s an indirect wink when your face scrunches up at the answer but it’s not necessarily… bad? It’s just - well - however you try to put it, ah, whatever.

“I made you a pie. You know, since we’re going to be neighbours,”

And you can cook?” After the implication you’re pretty, it’s more or less a little too much for two compliments in a row so you hand him the pie regardless whether he was ready to hold onto three hours of dedication and time. He snorts at the lack of your response but at the spark in his eyes as you back away, you wave and give a reply of: “I try sometimes. See you around,”

Yoongi only clicks his tongue and backs into his apartment, watching you enter yours with a hint of red cheeks. As he closes the door behind him, padding his feet to the kitchen is where he takes a spoon to whip a generous bite. With a mouthful of the taste of chicken that’s… undercooked. He forces it down his system before setting the whole pan aside with a cough.

“She wasn’t kidding when she said she was trying.”

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anonymous asked:

Cole seems like the type of celebrity who absolutely ABHORS the PR game. I don't think he would ever agree to pretend to date someone just to boost his popularity or for his projects to make noise. I think it would drive him absolutely crazy if he couldn't be himself. It's a ridiculous accusation.

Some people here I swear suffer from hypernatremia so all that excess sodium in their blood has made them salty

10

Hayden Christensen on his lightsaber training

SKAM S04E05 Clip 5 - Imagine all the people living life in peace

ESKILD: “You’re the one called Elias, right?”
EVA: Elias is your brother?
ESKILD: Then I go up to him and then I stroke him, just a little bit on his side at first, then I feel like a shiver going up his spine. *Gag noises* Then he left pretty quickly, but he seemed open for more fun.
CHRIS: Are you crazy?
EVA: Stop! I can send you the money.
CHRIS: Send me the money? What?
EVA: I can send it! How much is it? Hello!
CHRIS: 112.
EVA: It doesn’t!
CHRIS: 112 for a beer.
EVA: I can give you..
CHRIS: 112,50. 112,40..
[Are you coming?]
EVA: 112,40?
CHRIS: Point 40.
[John Lennon - Imagine]
EVEN: Thank you!
CHRIS: Oh my God
SANA: Yeah..
CHRIS: Yeah..
SANA: Oh, I love you so much.

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7

quiet night

theres just a what-if here about ritsu getting just a bit of psychic empathy and achieving the rest with his writers brain, and theres also a headcanon about mob not being a very good singer or not playing any instrument but being able to whistle very well 

I remember theres a word for that, the very good whistler thing, from a jeffery deaver book Ive read, but I cant find it in my memory anymore

I kinda want it back

klunk being helpful boyfriends/datemates to each other, like:

  • lance forgetting to use his ointments and keith and hunk reminding him when they see him in the morning and lance rushing back to his room to do so
  • keith not realising its been hours and hasnt taken off his binder and when their cuddling lance feels it and tells him sweetly to do take it off, and hunk offers him one of their jumpers for comfort w/o the binder
  • hunks anxiety getting too much for him and they start crying and lance and keith come over and ask if they wanna be left alone or not and they dont, so lance and keith just sit there with them, holding their hands and letting them cry and occasionally rant about their anxiety
Harry Potter can’t sleep (and neither can Draco Malfoy)

prompt: pillow covers (thanks @miniemcgee)
<5k

Fuck this, Harry thinks, listening to the rustle of Malfoy’s sheets as the insufferable git rolls over for what has to be the fifth time in as many minutes. And fuck McGonagall for assigning Draco Malfoy, of all people, to be his roommate. No wait, Harry immediately takes this back. Even in his internal monologue he isn’t comfortable disrespecting McGonagall.

Still Malfoy is a nightmare to dorm with. Merlin, Harry would much rather be having a nightmare – at least then he’d actually be sleeping! Malfoy tosses and turns all night. He gets up and visits the bathroom two-three times every night. What, does he have a bladder the size of a peanut? It’s ridiculous.

All Harry wants is to sleep. All Malfoy seems to do every night is make as much noise as possible. Harry mentions it to Ron once at breakfast. Even though all the eight years have been given new shared “houseless” dorms, thankfully they’re still allowed to sit at their house tables. Harry is incredibly grateful for this. It’s bad enough staying awake all night listening to Malfoy, he’d hate to have to put up with him in the daylight as well.

“What the bloody hell are you talking about?” Ron asks.

“He makes noises, Ron, in his bed. All night!” Harry explains, desperate for someone to understand his frustration. It’s constant, night after night. Rustle rustle rustle.

Ron looks at Harry like he’s lost his mind, a faint blush on his cheeks. Harry doesn’t bring it up again.


Draco is tired. So very tired. He can’t remember ever not feeling tired. It’s been so long since he’s been able to really sleep. At least two years, maybe more. Probably more. He thought things would change after the Battle of Hogwarts. That Voldemort’s death would give him peace. But it hasn’t. Nothing seems to. He doubts anything ever will.

Every night it’s the same. He lies in bed desperately willing himself to sleep, for his body to give in and relax. But the relaxation never comes. Sure he gets bits of rest here and there but it’s always fleeting, never enough. The morning takes a lifetime to arrive and yet, somehow, it’s always too soon.

Tonight he studies late in the library. He pushes himself to remain for as long as possible. What’s the point in going to bed anyway? Finally the exhaustion becomes too much for him and he heads back to the dorm, all the while knowing the exhaustion isn’t enough to grant him sleep. It never is.

His dorm is dark. Potter must already be in bed. He is surprised by how early all the eighth years go to bed. In Slytherin lights out was always well after midnight. Unfortunately, not many others from Slytherin have returned to Hogwarts to back him up on this. So everyone seems to retire by 10pm every night.

He stumbles around the dark room, trying to be quiet, his arm reaching out in front of him searching for his bed pole to grasp, while his eyes adjust. There. Using the bed post as a guide, he lets himself fall into bed.

Ah. His body crumples inwards, pleased. It takes all Draco’s determination to keep his body upright throughout the day when all he wants to do is collapse. His body craves for sleep all day and then when he finally gets to bed, nothing. Yet another restless night.

Except today something feels different. His pillow is softer somehow, his blanket warmer. There’s something else too.  A strong, commanding scent he’s never noticed before. He breathes in deeply and lets it wash over him. Grapefruit. Honey. Ginger. It’s comforting. And familiar. He takes another breath. And another. His eyes close.

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a friend like mine

 Summary: A discussion about a break up leads to….interesting revelations. || Sebastian x Reader || part 1 of 2

Warnings: discussion of kinks, [in the second part] —> smut and all that entails, thigh riding, choking, some other stuff but i’ll put it in the warnings for the next one

Note: :))))

Originally posted by buckynsebimagines

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