#:taehyung

[parkxjiyoung-blog]

idekicantthink:

Taehyung laid back against the soft cushion “you can’t get rid of my that easily” he chuckled. Taking a look around the olders apartment before smiling at the male.

“It’s cozy anyway. Not too cold like my apartment. And I like the view, you seem so see more sky that I do” he chuckled. He enjoyed playing around with the older, seemed to enjoy the smile on the others face. Playfully sticking his tongue out just to be the pain he is before laughing at his own dumbness.

—   Jiyoung grinned, looking at the other out of the corner of his eye. They were both leaning against a pile of pillows they’d bundled up at the end of his bed, legs hanging over the edge as they looked out the window.

      “You’re so full of shit. We live in the same building, our apartments are the same temperature.” he chuckled though, nudging Taehyung with his elbow, landing a soft jab just below his ribs, in the soft skin of his stomach. 

[parkxjiyoung-blog]

idekicantthink:

Taehyung honestly didn’t know what to say, it all looked so, well, it made his mouth water. His smile grew wide “okay okay. Where should I even start though” a soft chuckle passed his lips as he turned his head slightly to look at the other. “Well either way, thanks sweets~” he gave a small peck on the olders cheek before sitting down finally. “And I would never let all this go to waste, promise” he took his first bite, melting into the chair a bit as he hummed. “So good. You taught yourself? This is amazing!!”

—   Jiyoung couldn’t help but grin at the kiss, crossing his arms to watch the other dig in.

       “You like it?” he asked, suddenly a little self-conscious. It had been a long time since he’d had someone other than himself taste his cooking, “And yeah. I used to do all the cooking as a kid, so I got practice there, and then it just sort of became something I liked. I don’t know.”

[parkxjiyoung-blog]

"Whisper"

“Whisper” — +idekicantthink(status — accepting)

—   “I know you love me,” Jiyoung whispered, grinning widely as he pushed Taehyung towards the table of food, the best he could make.

       “Now stop gawking and eat it before it gets cold. You don’t want all my hard work to go to waste, do you?”

[parkxjiyoung-blog]

♧ (pardon my being mobile bound)

1-110 Meme: +idekicantthink

—   Jiyoung’s brows furrowed in confusion, wondering if maybe he just didn’t get it. The kid was supposed to be some sort of artistic genius, right? Maybe there was a deeper level to it that just didn’t resonate with Jiyoung’s hamster brain, and this music — whatever it was — was actually beautiful. Critics were probably fanning themselves at just the thought of this neo-grunge bullshit.

     And his voice was beautiful, of that, Jiyoung had no doubt, but— 

     “You play guitar like a sissy.” 

[parkxjiyoung-blog]

+ idekicantthink [ x ]

—   Taking the coffee and downing the aspirins in one fell swoop, he grimaced, blinking as his eyes adjusted to the light. He let the other man’s words wash over him and he groaned. Great. His sobriety counselor was going to be so pleased. Guess he was back to square one.

     Jiyoung tried to pick away at the scattered memories from the night before, hoping that it would jog his memory. He definitely remembered getting drunk, and then going to the bar and getting more drunk. He tried to convince himself that maybe he hadn’t used, and that he was still sober -- no, he clearly remembered the clattering sound of credit cards on mirrors, pinching his nose to stop the nosebleed before it began, and then, of course, the high. He sighed.

     He looked back up at the other man, eyebrows furrowing. He could remember dancing (he thought he could remember dancing, at least), and sweat and booze...

     “Did we fuck? Why are you here?”

[parkxjiyoung-blog]

"I made you coffee, did you want some aspirin?"

+ idekicantthink

—   Jiyoung blinked his eyes open, and instantly regretted it, his vision going white with pain. It was like two hands were pressing into his temples, trying to crush his skull, inch by inch. And the hands were made of spikes. And the spikes on the hands were made of smaller spikes. 

     He groaned, pressing the heels of his palms into his eyes until his vision swam with white dots. “Fuck.. yes.”

     It was only then that he looked up at the voice that had spoken, standing on the other side of the apartment, coffee mug clutched in the man’s hand.

     “What happened?”