Back to working loosely haha I enjoy it far too much 8]
He didn’t know when she started sitting there, every morning at eight, with a cup of coffee in her hands. He only knew when he started remembering her.
Sometimes she was with someone–a friend, he hoped–but most times, she was alone, sitting contentedly with her beverage, enjoying her own company.
He never could quite muster up the courage to go up to her–what was he going to say? “Hey, I’ve been watching you drink coffee every morning as I walk to work, how’s it going?” Yeah, that’s not a bit creepy.
So one day, when it was down-pouring, and he went his way to work, believing fully that perhaps today, he might not get to see her, he was surprised to find he was wrong. There she was, wearing a bright red raincoat–but no umbrella.
Okay but I love that Cisco can be a complete sunshine cinnamon roll towards Kara and beam at her and shake her hand while simultaneously destroying Barry with one line like it took a while for him to make his appearance but when he did he showed tf up
It’s 1952 in Oxford University, and Susan Pevensie is leaving the Lady Margaret Hall library for the last time.
Her classmates will be sorry to see her go - ask any of them “Who’s the young woman with dark hair and a blue coat?” and they’ll say “what, you don’t know Susan Pevensie? You must be new.”
But most of her friends don’t actually know that much about her. They’ll agree that she’s compassionate and charismatic, “and brighter than you’d think she’d have a right to be, with looks like hers - how come she gets beauty and brains?” but nobody knows anything about her childhood. Or her family.
“She’s lost someone,” says a first-year student with a permanent air of exam-induced panic, “she came here on an inheritance from somebody, and I’ll bet anything it’s her parents because she never talks about them, but we’ve all lost someone, you know? From the war or not, it doesn’t matter. Nobody’s going to make her talk.”
She’s graduating head of her class with a degree in Politics, Philosophy, and Economics; she wants to change the world, but really who expects her to do that? There’s a Queen on the throne and a dozen-odd women in Parliament, and many think that’s enough. She’ll make the perfect wife for some politician or businessman, at least while she’s young and pretty enough to be seen and not heard.
The shadows are chilly and long this time of year, so she almost misses the older woman leaving the Principal’s office, but the other woman steps directly into her path.
“Hello, Miss Pevensie,” she says. “I’m Agent Peggy Carter. How would you feel about a job in America?”
“So, Sirius and Professor Lupin,” said Ron, conversationally, “they seem pretty close. Must be nice, being reunited with one of your best mates like that.”
Harry and Hermione exchanged a look. Ron’s expression grew puzzled.
“What? What is it this time?”
Hermione rolled her eyes, in her very familiar way, and said, “They’re married, Ronald.”
“They’re what?” Ron gawped, looking between Hermione and Harry like they’d been keeping some great secret from him. “Did you know that, Harry?”
“Yeah,” Harry nodded at him slowly, clearly taken aback by his ignorance, “it’s been months, Ron. I thought it was obvious.”
First Ron’s gaze, then all three, shifted to the room across the hall, where the men in question stood together just inside the doorway. The pair stood very close, heads bowed as they murmured to each other so that their foreheads almost touched. As they spoke Remus unfolded his arms and laid a hand tenderly on Sirius’ forearm, his thumb dipping under the cuff of his rolled-up sleeve. A brief glint of light bounced off the modest gold band which adorned his fourth finger, comfortably, like it belonged there. And there was something in the way they looked at each other; a kind of intensity, almost a fierceness, that was always present when they looked at each other, but never at anyone else.
Suddenly, Remus’ speech cut off mid sentence, and as if he sensed the three pair of eyes now intruding on his conversation he looked up. For just a moment he seemed to colour slightly, before he sent the door closed with a quick wave of his hand.
“Blimey,” said Ron, who had the decency to look somewhat shamefaced, at least.
Harry leant over and nudged him in the ribs.
“I hope you can learn the difference between best mates and married,” he told him, with as much severity as he could muster while trying not to laugh. “Or we might have a bit of a problem here.”
In the room across the hall, with the sound of laughter on the other side of the door, Sirius and Remus quietly kissed one another goodnight.
You were different from the others I’ve met before, but how come I couldn’t have kept you within my grasps.
Pairing: Yoongi x Reader
Word Count: 14 k
Genre:Angst/Romance; College AU
Warnings: Mild Language
In the hottest of summers and the brightest of days, Min Yoongi dreaded to start school again. He never understood why people were crammed together in a public facility, which the system either brainwashes students to become society’s insignificant soldier toy or learn to be free of this ignorance that chains people. He never actually understood it, accepting the fact he was not part of this world he was born in. No one came to understand the vivid imagination he has, the world he created within the spaces of his wondrous mind-always questioning. There were times that he would spout nonsense to gauge people’s reaction as if he was experimenting each and everyone to see if they would fall into a particular category, sub-category or even a smaller sub-category that he made up to satisfy his never ending boredom. It’s not like Min Yoongi disliked his surrounding human companions, but the fact that a handful of them probably won’t even matter in his life and his end goal-he didn’t see the point.
Aside from being the bittersweet cynic he is, he only loved one thing, music. An invisible wavelength that strums the highest of pitches or the lowest of frequencies, he was in love with an intangible entity. Relating to something that wasn’t a physical being, yet the sound was able to manifest into the loveliest forms that invisibly existed. He didn’t pay attention to the wandering eyes that came to his way as the sounds of his music muffled their entire existence. He didn’t care about the ignorant students that only seemed to care about their mundane social circle and their need to have some temporary gratification from the approving eyes others. What only mattered to him were the sounds that he would create from his calloused hands from endless plays of the grand piano or the constant pressures he would press on his musical digital interface.
That is until he heard one of the most scorching sounds ever to come across his ears.