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Welcome to Déjà Brew

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There is a bar right on the outskirts of the city. It stands between two dilapidated buildings, a small beacon of purple and red neon lights amidst a gray backdrop. No matter the day, it’s filled with regulars. The drinks are mixed to each client’s taste, not a drop out of place. The music is good, a mix of indie jazz, soul blues, and the occasional live performances by a handful of the bar staff. The atmosphere, too, is something to look forward to—it’s chill, friendly, and no matter which walk of life you come from, there is always a chair waiting for you at the bar.


But if you go to the outskirts of the city and find two dilapidated buildings, you will see no bar. No small beacon of purple and red neon lights amidst a gray backdrop. No faint echoes of indie jazz, or soul blues, or the occasional live performances by talented singers.


No, you won’t see any bar, but make no mistake; it is a real thing.


It sits there, between two dilapidated buildings, waiting for the right people to come through its swinging door with the stained glass window. It waits for the right clients—for the people with magic in their blood, and power in their name.

Déjà Brew exists, and its door is now open to the public.




Chapter Text




Business is slow, as it always is during Thursdays. Yoongi fights back a yawn as he busies himself with wiping the rocks glass in his hands. He looks around the bar rather sleepily, dark gaze taking in each and every one of their regulars.


There’s Arghan, the Turkish expat who's very fond of Yoongi and the others, and who also always cries about his hometown—thinks it’s unfair that he had to leave because of his ancestry (“it’s not like it was my choice to be a fuckin’ ifrit, Yoongi-ssi!”). Hyuna’s there, too, sitting near the windows and nursing a glass of water. She’s, well, a water spirit, but she goes to the bar without fail on really hot days (“I can’t have that damn sun burning my pretty fins, okay.”). The twin faeries Min and Jae are standing over the jukebox, aggressively fighting over the next song choice. There are more regulars at the bar where Yoongi’s standing—a green witch, a werewolf, a faun—but they’re not more than ten all in all. It’s a dead day for business, he thinks.


The door suddenly opens, and Yoongi straightens up just a little bit. It’s a client, maybe, and although the possibility of them only buying one glass and being a general cheapskate is high, Yoongi still tries to keep on a neutral yet inviting face. He looks up from the glass in his hands—


—and promptly feels the breath get knocked out of him.


It’s a boy—Yoongi’s mind halts, and he has to blink and actually breathe to continue his thought process—it’s a boy with the fluffiest black hair, the softest cheeks, the plumpest lips, and the prettiest eyes Yoongi has ever laid his undeserving eyes on. The boy is quiet as he enters, head ducked down shyly but eyes still flitting about the bar as if in search of something. His short stubby fingers are barely peeking out of his sleeves, and Yoongi just about has a fucking coronary when the boy begins to twiddle his fingers together nervously.


“Oh, my God,” Yoongi breathes out, quiet enough that his regulars sitting near him don’t hear, but loud enough for Seokjin who has, for the past minute or so, been all up in Yoongi’s space.


“God? Capital G? Since when were you religious? That literally goes against your way of life, Yoongi.”


Yoongi startles at Seokjin’s voice, but he can’t take his eyes off of the cute tiny boy in the fluffy pastel pink sweater and black skinny jeans. It’d be a crime to do so, and Yoongi’s not ready to give up Déjà Brew for life behind bars (the other kind, not this kind).


“Oh, my God,” Yoongi says again. Fuck if he isn’t eloquent.


He hears Seokjin hum in question, before the undead turns his head around to look as well. He gasps, and Yoongi knows he’s Fucked. Capital F, too. Seokjin will never let him live this down.


“Who the hell is that gorgeous specimen?! How dare he try to compete with my beauty?!” Seokjin whispers angrily, completely aghast as he puts a hand against his chest.


Yoongi would also like to know who the gorgeous specimen is. He keeps on staring (fuck, he’s been wiping the same glass for minutes now, whoever’s going to drink from it next will have the cleanest fucking drink in existence). Both he and Seokjin watch wordlessly as the boy slips further into the bar, closer to the stage, and—




Taehyung’s loud voice scares the fuck out of Yoongi, and Seokjin startles violently where he stands next to him. The bar regulars also look up from their drinks, curious about the commotion and why the bar singer just fucking yelled into the microphone.


The cute boy stops walking, and Yoongi watches in awe (no, he’s really not envious, damn it) as Taehyung bounds down the stage and engulfs the boy—Jiminnie, was it, oh fuck—in a crushing, sweet hug. Jiminnie giggles into the hug, and Yoongi is suffering, he feels like death just washed over him (he knows what he’s talking about; he deals with death on the daily, he’s a born natural, really).


“Oh, my God, indeed,” Seokjin suddenly says with a strange hint of fondness, leaning into Yoongi as they watch Taehyung and Jiminnie hug each other in the middle of the bar, “Yoongi, do you think we can adopt him? Holly would love him so much!”


Yoongi blinks slowly. He’s still wiping the glass, and he can’t seem to stop, shit. He splutters weakly when Jiminnie smiles again—nose scrunching, lips pulling back in an endearing toothy smile, and eyes curving into cresecents—and Yoongi can’t help but sigh. “Oh, my God.”


Seokjin snorts loudly, clapping his shoulder as he keeps on staring. “Wow, you’re really fucked, Yoongi. Capital F, too.”




Chapter Text




Déjà Brew isn’t as packed as Jimin expected it to be on a Thursday night, but there’s still a few people milling about. Taehyung did mention that Fridays and Saturdays are their best days, but it still makes Jimin feel nervous to walk into a place he doesn’t know that well.


The place itself is charming, though, and through the windows he can see that the interior is reminiscent of an antique pub. There are a few touches of retro accents that Jimin finds refreshing, like the neon signs and the multiple framed photos and newspaper clippings adorning one wall. He’s not yet used to life in Seoul—hell, he really only knows Taehyung and Jungkook—so he’s anxious as he pushes the door open.


The first thing that he notices is the music. It’s Taehyung’s mellow baritone ringing over the speakers, and the familiarity calms him down slightly. The second thing he notices is, of course, the bar with a multitude of alcohol bottles lining the back shelf. Specifically, though, his eyes hone in on the man standing behind the bar counter wiping a clear glass carefully, sleeves rolled up to his elbows to reveal the ink on his arm.


Jimin isn’t blind, and damn—that bartender is a sight for sore eyes, indeed. His hair is a black and tousled mess on his head, and his face is something Jimin would very much like to look at for a longer period of time if given the chance. His lips are pink, pouty and naturally upturned at the corners, while his fox-like eyes are dark and intense in the way they take in everything inside the bar.


Jimin notices the man’s gaze is intently settled on him, and he feels the blood rush up to his cheeks from the attention. He quickly ducks his head down, shuffling further into the bar while still keeping an eye out for his tall best friend. He’s not new to attention, of course, seeing as he was—and still is—the best witch in Busan, but something about the bartender just makes him feel a little hotter than normal. There’s something about his dark gaze, his black button up under that black waistcoat, and his unreadable expression that just has Jimin feeling things.


He takes another step further into the bar, slightly aware of the eyes on him, when a voice booms out over the speakers. He winces slightly, but he looks up anyway to see Taehyung beaming at him from the raised platform.




He watches as his tall gangly friend power walks down the platform, and soon enough, he’s laughing into Taehyung’s shoulder, the other having completely engulfed him in a bone crushing hug. Most days, Jimin would complain, but he realizes he misses the boy just as much as Taehyung misses him, so he melts into the hug.


“Taehyungie, I missed you!” Jimin’s voice is muffled, but Taehyung understands anyway.


Taehyung pulls away, a boxy grin on his face as he holds Jimin at an arm’s length. “You made it, Jiminnie.”


“I’m not a baby,” Jimin whines, scrunching his nose when Taehyung pinches his cheek softly, “I can make it to Seoul just fine.”


“No evil road spirits?” Taehyung asks, steering him away back to the direction of the bar.


“No, I went on a train, and I can protect myself. You haven’t forgotten who I am and what I’m capable of, have you?” Jimin laughs, following Taehyung along. Around them, the bar’s customers have gone back to their own thing, and Jimin is thankful for the faux sense of privacy.


“Touche,” Taehyung mumbles, glancing at Jimin briefly, “Jungkookie and I are excited to finally have you at the manor, by the way. God knows how long we’ve begged you to leave your crusty old shack in Busan and just stay with us instead.”


Jimin smiles, fiddling with his fingers wordlessly. They reach the bar just then, and he looks up to see the handsome bartender from earlier. He’s watching them with wide eyes, and standing beside him with a cheeky and toothy grin is another handsome guy. Damn, with Taehyung and Jungkook working there, too, he’s starting to think the bar only takes in pretty boys as employees.


“Jiminnie, let me introduce you to my boss who, of course, will be your boss, too,” Taehyung suddenly says, and Jimin looks up at him quickly.




Taehyung nods before looking at the handsome bartender happily. “Hyung, I mentioned before my best friend from Busan, remember? The one who needs a job while he’s here in Seoul? This cutie pie is that best friend,” he says easily, jerking one thumb over his shoulder to point out Jimin, “hyung, this is Park Jimin, best damn witch in Busan.”


Jimin glances at the boss—at Yoongi, and he feels his cheeks grow warm at the way the older man is staring at him. Taehyung continues easily, aware of the slight tension between the two as he looks back at Jimin with a teasing grin.


“Jiminnie, this is Min Yoongi, badass owner of Déjà Brew, and the best bartender in town.”




Chapter Text



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Yoongi never really thought that he’d end up taking over his parents’ bar but here he is, anyway. Back then, the place had been kind of on the shady side, with only his parents’ intimidating aura and reputation keeping the clients in check. Hoseok, ever the scaredy cat (or pup, he should say) always stayed back when Yoongi had to meet up with his parents, and Seokjin refused to associate himself with the bar crowd.


So of course, when Yoongi (and subsequently, Hoseok and Seokjin) had taken over after his parents retired, it had been a real mess (“with a capital M, Yoongi ,” Seokjin would always say teasingly). Nobody knew him, they saw him as a little boy with a pretty face and superficial tattoos, but over time, Yoongi’s reputation as a bartender and a formidable magic user reached anyone who cared to listen, and Déjà Brew—once a breeding ground for trouble and riffraff—eventually became a haven for anyone who needed it.


Once upon a time, the bar had been a chore for all of them, a place to avoid at all costs, but now, it’s as natural as home to all of them. Yoongi tends the bar most of the time, although Hoseok has his days, too (he refuses to tend on Fridays and Saturdays, though, because, “hyung, I love you, but the Friday and Saturday crowd are nuts and my heart is too weak for that ”). Seokjin helps around, as well, cleaning tables and counters when he’s not playing the guitar on live nights, or chatting up customers and basically collecting information for his own gossip pool.


A couple of young witches work part time for him, too—Taehyung, a childhood friend from Daegu, and Jungkook. They sing along to Seokjin’s accompaniments on live nights, and Yoongi likes those days the best because the crowd is filled with good people, good music, and good atmosphere. He sees the two witches less than he sees Hoseok or Seokjin, but he’s grown fond of the two and treats them like the little brothers he never had. And of course, there’s Namjoon—the only human in their little group. Most of his people would shun him for his good association with a mere human, but Yoongi’s never been one for prejudice. He loves Namjoon just as much as he loves Seokjin, Hoseok, Taehyung, and Jungkook.


Traditionally, they’re not the most well put together group out there, but Yoongi loves them all the same. Like family.