Ok but after Krall and Yorktown, and after the Enterprise is finally back in space where she belongs, it’s like someone turned the lights on for Jim.

He hadn’t realised how much he had been hiding from himself until he saw the bursts of colours from the stars and nebulae they passed, until he was surrounded by his crew’s happy, excited faces, until the gold of his shirt finally looked like gold again, instead of just another shirt for another day.

But it wasn’t just those things Jim took a second glance at, it was Bones.

And God, he didn’t realise just how blind he’d been until he finally saw Bones.

He probably shouldn’t have been staring, no, he definitely shouldn’t have been staring; a crewman was bleeding out on the table after an away mission gone wrong, but he was safe in Bones’ medbay now so Jim isn’t feeling too guilty about stopping like a slack-jawed idiot.

Bones was tired, shouting, and covered in bodily fluids that Jim didn’t want to even try to identify, but fuck. He was the most beautiful thing Jim’s ever seen.

“What are you looking at? Don’t you go have to be obnoxious on the bridge like a good captain?” Bones snapped at him when he finally realised Jim was still there, but Jim didn’t take it too personally, if you wanted the best treatment, you saw Bones. If you wanted decent bedside manner, you saw literally anyone other than Bones.

“You’re beautiful.” It just slipped out of his mouth, rather loudly by the looks he got from the nurses, but Jim didn’t care.

“What? Oh for the love of– Jim we had the damn discussion about telling me when you hit your head.” Bones hands the crewman off to the nurse waiting at his side, who spares Jim a quick nod and a smile before turning to her patient, and the next thing in his vision is Bones’ angry face. “What did you do? Bang your head off a low cave roof again? For such a smart guy you can be pretty dumb. Concussions are dangerous, Jim. Even for Starfleet Captains.”

“I didn’t hurt my head, Bones. You’re just- You’re beautiful.” Jim knows he’s got a stupid smile on his face, and from the way Bones’ is scanning his head it’s obvious he does sound like someone that banged their head in a cave, but he doesn’t mind so much. He can finally see. “I didn’t notice before, but I do now, and you’re the best thing I’ve ever seen.”

Bones stops trying to scan him, instead just squinting his eyes at Jim with a peculiar expression on his face.

It takes a good few minutes before Bones seems to come to a conclusion, and that conclusion appears to be dragging a hand across his face and sighing loudly.

“You’re the best Captain Starfleet has to offer, and it’s taken you nearly a decade to realise you like me. We’re doomed.”

“Wait you knew?” Jim is confused, and from the way Bones sighs, it’s apparent he’s the only one. “How could you know if I didn’t?”

“Because I like you too, you damn space cowboy. Now get out my medbay, you’re an embarrassment and I don’t want to be seen with you.”

And just like that, he’s being spun around and shoved into the corridor, where Nyota is waiting for him.

“Captain, you’re needed on the bridge. What’s with your face?”

Jim was pretty sure the crew was meant to actually respect their Captain, but that was an argument for another day. “Did you know I liked Bones?”

Nyota sighs, scarily not unlike Bones, and turns to head to the turbolift. “He finally told you? Thank God. Now can we go to the bridge?”

“Nyota, I am very, very confused.”

“You have date nights every Thursday, Captain. I don’t know how you didn’t know, but you and McCoy are a thing. You have been for a while.”

So they stand there quietly in the turbolift for a few seconds, before the grin creeps back onto his face. Bones likes him. The man more beautiful than all the planets and stars Jim’s ever seen likes him.


anonymous asked:

bangtanficrec(.)tumblr(.)com/post/141930133013/do-you-know-any-jikook-fic-with-the-whole-one Pssst. please!!!

I forgot this was in my inbox, lol. (Sorry ;A;). But I’ve seen a couple fics with the “one room, one bed” trope already since that post, so I don’t know if your needs were fulfilled for that, but, uh… here’s a drabble, anyway even though there are other pieces I should be working on. Oops.

Pull Me Close
Jikook | 773 words

Jimin didn’t like pointing his finger at anyone, but it was totally Jungkook’s fault they got lost. It was he who wanted to stop at some place for coffee, randomly, without telling the other members. And of course, Jimin stayed near Jungkook in case he got lost in the surrounding crowd, and–

Well, it was too late to take anything back now. In short, they lost the members and the camera crew. They also conveniently lost signal the further they walked around, trying to re-orient themselves only to feel like two stupid Alices in Wonderland.

And now, they were stuck in a shitty little hotel in a shady district they couldn’t read the names of, late in the evening, too tired to do anything else. They only had enough money for one room with one twin-sized bed. Convenient.

“Hyung,” Jungkook sighed, loosely crossing his arms over his chest. “Stop… just stop being mad. You can’t just blame me for all of this. You didn’t know where we were, either.”

“I’m not blaming you.” Jimin, in truth, just felt restless. They didn’t remember anything about their real hotel, much less the name of it. How dumb were they, so dependent on their staff and the other members to not know be able to do anything on their own?

“You are.” Jungkook huffed. “Hyung–”

“I don’t want to talk about it anymore. Let’s just sleep so we can be up early for everyone to find us in the morning.”

Jimin took a pillow off one side of the bed and plopped it on the floor. Then he stripped the bed of its top cover.

Jungkook frowned at him from across the bed. “What are you doing?”

“You can take the bed. Your back’s been hurting lately, right?” Jimin hoped Jungkook couldn’t tell that heat started to spread over his cheeks. He was supposed to be angry, but a larger part of him would still rather dote on him instead.

Jungkook stared at him with incredulity. “Hyung, you don’t know who or what’s been on the floor.”

“I’ll shower in the morning.”

Jimin was ready to sink to the ground and overall just be done with the entire day, but before he could, he saw Jungkook rush around and clamp him around the wrist.

“Just sleep in the bed with me.”

The plea in his voice made Jimin’s heart thump. “You want me to sleep with you?”

Jungkook turned red and recoiled. “I just don’t want you on the ground, hyung. It wouldn’t be fair. Pretend it’s like… like at home when we’re homesick and–”

“When we were younger?”

“We weren’t that much younger.” Jungkook let out an annoyed sigh. “You’re making this complicated. What’s the big deal?” He paused, and then in a much quieter, more wounded voice, added, “Do you really hate the idea of sleeping next to me?”

Jimin’s chest ached. “Of course not.” He looked away, to stare at his make shift bedding on the ground. He hated Jungkook’s large puppy eyes. They always eased his anger, his soft stares always undoing all the tension in his muscles.

“Okay, then you’re still mad,” Jungkook said. He heaved another sigh, this time resigned. “Fine.”

Jimin became too tired to deal with it anymore, so he quietly plopped down on the ground, listening to Jungkook’s shuffles and rustles as he climbed into the squeaky-sprung bed before falling asleep.

Jimin woke up in the middle of the night to sudden heat, covering and trapping him, protecting him from the cool hardness of the ground. Soft, too, with gentle, steady air blowing shallowly against his hairline; a familiar sensation that created a twinge of nostalgia in his heart. 

He missed this.

“Jungkook?” he asked, the movement of his lips causing light grazes against a collarbone. He opened his eyes, his vision meeting the dark outline of a neck. The firmness of Jungkook’s arms around him left him little room to look at anything else.

“I couldn’t sleep,” Jungkook grumbled, although it sounded more like an excuse.

Jimin’s heart swelled with sudden affection. “Since when did you need me to help you sleep?”

He never received a reply. Jungkook fell back asleep in an instant, comfortable in the way he clung to him. Jimin curled around him to complete the puzzle of their bodies, relaxed for the first time since the previous afternoon.

He missed this, too, Jimin decided, smiling to himself.

He stopped blaming Jungkook for the day’s events. Instead, he closed his eyes and got lost in the warmth surrounding him.

Who Do You Think You Are

I’m officially late, but Happy Birthday, lovely Kate @accidental-rambler(okay I didn’t mean for that to rhyme hehe).  I was trying to think of what was “our thing” and the one thing that came to me is our ‘friendly’ arguments about the term football vs soccer ;) I hope you enjoy it.

Professional football player Klaus Mikaelson is busy trying to focus on his upcoming match; until some blonde American popstar decides to mess with his pre-game ritual (I’m channelling Posh and Beks).

FA Cup Final: Manchester United vs Liverpool FC

Old Trafford Change Rooms: 65 minutes until kick-off

“How have you never heard of Royalty? Have you been living under a rock or something?” His teammate Matt asked as they stretched in the change rooms.

“There’s only one set of Royalty I know and that’s Lizzie, William, Harry, Kate, George and co.”

“But they are only the biggest girl band in the world right now.”

“And why should I care about this again?”

“They are in this very venue right now, they are playing before our match.”

“I’m a little concerned you know all of this, Donovan,” he observed, cocking his left eyebrow. “I never really took you for a pop music fan.”

“Well, I’m not but have you seen them? I mean hot isn’t a strong enough adjective to describe just how fine these ladies are.”

“Bonnie is definitely the best one,” Enzo piped up, interrupting their conversation, something that wasn’t an uncommon occurrence with their teammate.

“Bonnie is cute too but Katherine can certainly hold her own,” Matt added. “You know I’ve always had a thing for brunettes.”

“You know as interesting as this little conversation is, we have a final to warm up for, fellas. After we win this premiership you can mess around with whatever women you want but how about a little focus in the meantime?”  

“Don’t worry Klaus, their lead singer is a blonde, you know given your preference for fair headed ladies.”  

“I’m absolutely thrilled, Lorenzo,” Klaus growled. “Now, if you’ll excuse me I’m going over to the other side of the room, far from all this mindless chatter.” Klaus placed his earphones on and sat over at one of the far benches, trying to get into the zone. The last thing he needed was some stupid distraction to derail his game.  

Klaus closed his eyes losing himself in his carefully selected musical playlist, trying not to focus on the fact that this was his most important match to date.  Even though the volume was high, Klaus could hear some wolf whistles in the background, pulling him unceremoniously out of his trance.

He peeled open one eye his annoyance reaching new levels when he spotted his team crowded around the television in the corner. From what he could make out and the reactions from the players the entertainment had begun. Before he could look away, a flash of blonde caught his eye.  

He really wished he hadn’t looked because now he couldn’t look away. She was breathtaking, strutting around the makeshift stage in black  leather pants that fit her like a second skin. Her golden waves were cascading down her back and even from this distance he could make out some bright, blue eyes.

Klaus really hated to agree with Enzo but he was right about her. As he watched her dance in unison with the other group members (Klaus figured this must have been the Bonnie and Katherine they’d been drooling over earlier) he couldn’t help but think just how the moves only accentuated her dangerous curves, no doubt on purpose.

He shook his head, trying to regroup his only salvation was the thought that she probably couldn’t really sing. No one could be that beautiful and talented.

He slowly removed his earphones to prove his theory, just as she belted out a powerful and impressive high note. Damn. He was in trouble.  

Keep reading

Her lips are cherry red from the wine, Fenris wants to lick it off- wants to press his mouth against hers and find every secret of the world there, have her speak his name over and over until he cannot distinguish it from hers.

It doesn’t matter what Fenris wants. Instead he remains rooted to his chair, wine bottle gripped tightly in his hand, watching her mouth move, form into a pout for a moment. “Fenris?” she inquires, and he barely notices, eyelids heavy, heart heavier.

Her finger are sticky against his skin, pushing the hair from his eyes. Fenris does not want her to leave.

When he wakes, he’s not sure if she was ever there.

Two Calls

Sometimes I broke up with him at a moment I couldn’t manage to be alone at all. And it were times like those where it often only took a few days- three weeks tops- for me to call and ask if I could come home again. These moments occured so often that I couldn’t possibly remember them all and as mentioned, I often couldn’t handle it and was just drunk all the time.

And so it happened that one time, miserable as I was, I found myself at one of those infamous ‘junky’ parties, not knowing how I got there or what I was doing there. I was rapidly getting drunk on cheap beer, a lot less glorious than getting drunk on whisky which always brought the luxury of simply forgetting everything. This cheap beer also whispered bitter sweet promises of a catastrophic hang-over with ever bottle of it that I uncapped. There was hardly interaction between the people there… many of them homeless, some tweaked out of their minds and most just too disappointed by life to even care any more. But it so happened that at some point a girl nestled against me in the crook of my arm that rested on the back of the dirty couch that supported stains one didn’t want to know the origin off. She smelled of perfume and old beer and loneliness and she started talking to me about things nobody cared about. But her voice was so sweet and slurred and pathetic that I wanted to keep her right where she was- her shoulder somewhat uncomfortably lodged in my armpit and her slightly matted blonde hair tickling my chin with every breath she took. A lost soul. And she stayed there the rest of the night and we then both spoke of things nobody cared about. And as nature would have it, her lips greeted mine multiple times in almost slow-motion collisions of mutual appreciation and the more she seemed to drink, the less I did. I don’t know why.
When morning came, I was exhausted and I didn’t want to sleep among the people there, too paranoid of losing my money to greedy hands. The girl was so far gone at this point, that I did not want to leave here either and eventhough I could have afforded a more luxurious hotel, the closer the better it seemed for her and soon we found ourselves in a small, scarcely decorated room with thin walls and snoring neighbours, but to both of us, for now, it was home. Despite the exhaustion, making love to her just seemed the right thing to do in this cliché scenario of boy meets girl. I remember being afraid to break her… she was skinny and fragile and every part of her body was a showcase of an unhealthy lifestyle. I wondered if Armand observed me like this too, but then I figured he didn’t. He had no trouble hurting me. Then again, I often asked for it. Could I hurt her if she asked for it? I don’t think I could have.
Before we fell asleep, while she was laying naked on top of me with her eyes already closed, she asked if she could stay. I could never have objected. And so the curtains stayed closed and we weren’t aware of days or nights for what might have been a weekend or a week. I was either greeted by blaring sunlight or the more comfortable, familiar darkness of night everytime I went out to get some food or more alcohol for the both of us. And when I got back to the room, my mate was there, so loyally waiting for me to come back to turn down the food, tempt me into more physical affections or simply use my naked chest to make her lines and borrow my money to snort it up. Because of this, there were hardly any real conversations or lucidity between us, but it seemed to both of us just the company was enough. I never even knew her name. I also hardly ever partook in her habbits. There were perhaps two or three times I hit some up my brains too, but snorting cocaine is simply nasty and call me spoiled, but I like my highs to have a comfort level of at least ninty percent. Cocaine fails to hit fifty. But she was sweet and warm and I fell for the little trick of liking her more everytime she told me she loved me, eventhough I knew it were the intoxiations talking. Our bodies seemed like magnets, never losing contact as if needing eachother’s warmth and I fell asleep with her attached to me to wake up with her attached to me. But it was all so horribly fake and yet seemed so much like it is supposed to be to many standards. But the more wakings passed, the more I realized why she had cuddled up against me that night on that couch.
The morning I found her cold and lifeless in my arms I was not so much disgusted as I was grieved. And soon I realized the tears shed were not because of me but because of her. She had probably known it- felt it that she was at her end and I was both sad and happy for her. Sad that it had to be those of a stranger, but happy that she died in someone’s arms. She had not been alone. 

I made two calls. First an ambulance. Then Armand. I didn’t want things to end for me in the arms of a stranger. I had the luxury of not having to be alone.

Need - Monchele - Nc-17

“Common…” Lea hissed through her teeth and pulled Cory closer to herself, pressing her lips against his own. He wrapped his arms around her body and moved her towards the wall in an alley outside the restaurant, pressing her into it as he traveled his lips over her chin and down her neck.

“God yes…please…,” she groaned and moved her hands into his hair, letting out a deep growl as he pushed a strap off her dress down, caressing her exposed nipple. He knew exactly what drove her crazy.

“God you’re so beautiful.” Cory mumbled into her chest and sucked and bit her nipple, his other hand moving over side to push up the dress over her hips. Lea flung one of her legs around his hips and closed her arms around his neck, pulling him even closer.

“Hmm please…I need you…,” she rasped out huskily and felt his free hand roam between her legs. He hooked a finger into her string and pulled it aside, this thumb immediately caressing her clit. She let out a moan into his shoulder, her breathing growing ragged.

“You’re so wet…,” he whispered as he slipped a finger into her entrance, thrusting it all the way in. Lea felt her head spinning and groaned, pushing her chest against his and moving her hips to cause more friction.

“Please…Cory…stop teasing…I need you…” Her voice was barely above a whisper and his hand kept assaulting her most secret area, while Lea’s hand found the button of his pants. She popped it open and quickly discarded his pants and boxers. She grasped his erection and started stroking him from base to tip, feeling him getting hard under her touch.

Muffled groans escaped his throat and he pulled his hand out of her. She quickly moved her hands up and closed them around his neck, so he was able to pick her up. She wrapped her legs around his hips and stared down into his eyes. He slowly lowered her on himself and entered her in one swift motion, causing her to cry out. Cory moved his hand over her mouth and pressed it down, kissing and licking her neck up to her ear.

“Gotta be quiet…,” he mumbled and wrapped his right arm tightly around her hips, starting to move her up and letting her crash down. Lea nodded her head and managed to move his hand away and planted her lips on his. She kissed him passionately as they both rushed towards the end of a short, yet intense ride.

Post-Canon Angstshipping Drabble

‘Truth or Dare, Bakura?’

In an almost sluggish manner, my gaze went from the empty glass, which I lazily swirled between my fingers in front of me, to the blond boy who had just asked me a question. Everything was fuzzy and I knew that I had too much already.


The word felt weird on my tongue. As if it had fur. But then it might have been my tongue itself. Who knows? Someone giggled.

Joey grinned almost maliciously and sat upright. It was only then that I noticed that I had made a mistake and would soon come to regret my decision.

'Kiss Marik. On the lips.’

Before I could stop myself, I let out a miserable whine.

It was not that I disliked Marik per se, God no, but he brought back memories which I had desperately tried to forget. Memories, which kept me awake at night and hurt both my head and my heart. I had scars of them. Literal ones.

'You don’t have to,’ uttered a quiet voice and I looked to the one who had spoken now. Long blond hair, dark skin and burning, lavender eyes greeted me. I missed the gold, and the Kohl which usually adorned his face. He looked empty. Maybe he was.

'I want to,’ I replied just as quiet and slowly scooted closer with a drunken stubbornness and unexpected determination, my eyes never leaving his.

He looked pained and I knew why. We both ached, but not for this. Never for this.

Therefore I didn’t know why I was so intent on doing this out of the sudden but something about his plump lips drew me closer. Maybe it was a physical memory. I had read about something like that before. A faded echo of things a body was used to do, hard-wired into the subconsciousness. It must have been something like this because I could have never wanted this.

I could feel the tension in the room as I finally leaned in and closed the space between us.  Marik trembled slightly but kissed back. Tentatively. Hurting.

The cheers which I had expected never came. Apparently, the others had noticed the foolishness of their request by now.

I tasted the lemon on Marik’s lips, a sad left-over from the tequila shots we had before, and out of instinct wrapped my arms around his neck to keep him close. 


His voice was shaky and his lips were soft, but I had to pull away from the nickname which didn’t belong to me anymore. And never truly had.

Masterlist Update

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Random/Choose your own bias

Finding Hope - Pt.1

Previous: [ 1 ] [ 2 ] [ 3 ] [ 4 ]

((I’m posting this to this blog since I archived the blog where I used to post the drabbles. Some of the writing is a little outdated since its old, but it still holds up!))

Three months trapped in some frozen hell, miles away from the world you grew up in was a nightmare Neo'la never knew she’d have to experience, and yet that’s where she found herself in this moment. She trodged through the snow, layers of furs and hexweave cloth piled on underneath her player armor. It’s not so bad, she tried to remind herself. After all, she had survived her entry onto Draenor, and reunited with her Lighttreader.

In the freezing, howling winds of Frostfire, it was the thought of him and their children that kept her warm.

Keep reading

it had to be

his death was something she could never accept. 

after all, how was she supposed to accept that all of a sudden- she
would never see him again, never hear his voice, and never feel his
arms wrap around her or his hands never messing up her hair?

when caesar had left, she never even thought to say goodbye. 

she never imagined losing him.

although it had been years, it still felt recent that he had become a part
of this family lisa lisa had begun to make. each room at the estate was
covered in memories.

from simple laughs and affectionate moments that left her heart fluttering
and confused- to serious heart to hearts and aiding in sickness or injury.
with every thought that surfaced in her mind, she could feel her heart ache
more and more.

every so often she would find her lips calling out his name, only for the
realization that he wasn’t there to wash over her. from children blowing
bubbles to a passing bird losing its feather, small reminders felt like her
heart was being crushed by the weight of her grief- a pressure that made
her start to crumble.

taking care of joseph helped- it really did. it was easier to keep a strong
face when she wasn’t alone. she felt comfort in his presence, like just
being around him made it easier to breath. so much so she seldom 
left his room. 

even in joseph’s state he still found a way to make her laugh. he was her
medicine and she almost thought that he was helping her accept. not
forget, but feel more herself. 

to be the suzie q that caesar remembered.

but of course there was laundry to be done, food to be cooked, among
the other tasks she was used to doing to occupy her time when he slept.

she couldn’t stay by his side all the time, despite the longing to. instead,
she was trying to figure out other ways to make her feel…more normal.
more h e r s e l f.

suzie needed to get out of the estate, away from the memories, away
from his room, away from each and every little thing that stuck a cord
on her heart strings.

still, she couldn’t stray too far in case joseph needed her. 

the garden had long since been suzie q’s sanctuary. it was a place she
could grow fresh vegetables, beautiful flowers, and truly lose herself for
a little while.

however, just as she was going to water the flowers, her eyes caught sight
of the rose bush she had been breathing life into for years. beginning to
blossom and bloom in a beautiful shade of red. as she had begun to smile
though, a wave of sadness began to well up inside her.

taking in a deep breath, a memory began to replay in her mind, her showing
caesar around the garden and explaining how excited she was that the roses
were beginning to bloom- and him plucking a couple off and placing them
gingerly in her hair…an accessory she was seldom ever without- because
of him. 

shivering a little, suzie began to move to hug herself as she fell to her knees
and warm tears began to make their mark on her cheeks.

“ i can’t even say just how much i miss you. i don’t even know if you can hear
me. but from the very first moment you came here, i knew- i just knew we would
get close - we had so many promises…i even thought you were going to break my
heart…i just didn’t expect it to be in this way.

biting on her lip, she allowed the tears to continue to fall, not even bothering to wipe them, instead moving her hands to take out the roses she wore in her hair, holding them with shaking hands, looking at them with red eyes and letting out a small, whispered laugh as the tears began to land on the petals- shaking her head.

 ti ho amato, caesar…  esso aveva essere amore.

i just wish it could have been, 
                                        ti amo.

Maybe I Like You

A/N: my old blog got deleted so I am reposting all the works I had there because I can’t find them anymore. Hope you enjoy (again)!! 


Hinata’s smile is always brighter when Kageyama is around, but he never seems to notice. His jump is always a little higher with Kageyama by his side, like he’s trying to reach his eyes. But Kageyama never looks at him.

Hinata’s eyes are always a little emptier and his shoulders are a little more hunched when Kageyama isn’t looking – because he isn’t looking.

When Hinata stops smiling, Kageyama is the first to notice.

“What’s with you, dumbass?” the taller boy snaps after practice. The sky is showered with thick clouds and the air around them is suffocating.

Hinata lifts his head to look at him. “What do you mean? I’m fine,” he says.

“No you’re not. You’ve been acting weird for weeks now,” Kageyama crosses his arms in front of himself. Hinata shuffles his feet and bites down on his lip. Kageyama knows he wants to say something and he wishes he knew what it was and that he could make it easier for him somehow.

“Why don’t you like me?” Hinata blurts out, eyes glued to his feet.

Kageyama lets out a surprised breath. “Of course I like you, dumbass. What are you talking about?”

“I didn’t mean – I mean, why don’t you like me?” he looks like he’s going to cry. Kageyama wants to reach out for him, but his arms feel stiff and heavy. He looks away because he doesn’t know what to say, doesn’t know what Hinata wants him to say.

“Why do you care, anyway?” he says instead, leaving his arms hanging at his sides.

“Because I like you!” Hinata is looking at him now, his eyes are big and red and tearful. Maybe if Kageyama wasn’t such and all-around fuck-up, he would know what to say instead of just I like you too and Please don’t cry.  But he’s never been good with people, and he’s never been good with words.

“I – I like you too,” he says, stumbling over his words and looking at his feet. Hinata sniffles.

“Y-you do?” his voice is quiet and small and utterly adorable.  “You’re just saying that to make me feel better,” he accuses.

And Kageyama doesn’t think, and he doesn’t breathe, he just leans down and presses his lips to Hinata’s. The smaller boy leans into his embrace and puts his hands around Kageyama’s shoulders.

Kageyama’s never been good with people, and he’s never been good with feelings, but as Hinata leans into him he thinks that maybe it doesn’t matter, after all.

Injured (ft. Jinhwan of iKon)

summary; taking care of jinhwan while he’s injured

genre/rating; fluff ; PG

A/N: this is just an old drabble i edited a bit! i hope you enjoy.

Waking up with a cold sweat from exhaustion, you reached to the side carefully to turn on the lamp.  Jinhwan slept silently beside you with his arm resting on his pillow and his back turned.. You softly rubbed his shoulders trying to wake him up. “Baby? It’s 9, time to wake up.”
 He made some incoherent sounds and rolled over to face you. “Let’s just sleep all day, hmm?” 

“As much as I’d love to do that, you have a doctor’s appointment to make. Come on, up.” He pulled the blanket over his head and turned again. “I’ll make your favorite breakfast.”
 That got his attention, he slowly pulled the cover off his head and looked at you. “Really?”
You nodded and walked to the kitchen and made breakfast. Once the soup was done, you turned off the fire and set the table. Jinwan came down the stairs with a displeased look on his face until he saw breakfast waiting for him. His face brightened as he sat down and smelt the food, using his left hand to eat his breakfast. You noticed he dropped some on his shirt and offered him help.
“Let me do it.” You picked up a spoon and moved it towards his mouth, he made a face not wanting to be a burden. He opened his mouth and ate the soup that you fed him.
Once he and you had finished, you had gotten him into the car to head for the doctors.
  After 20 minutes of driving, Jinhwan and you had finally arrived at the doctors. You found room 182 with Jinhwan trailing slowly behind you. After the doctor examined his arm, it was decided that he could get his cast off and use a wrap.
“Thank you.” With a bow and a little wave we set off once again to go home.
“Ahh,” he groaned “I miss being able to drive.”
“I miss you being able to drive too. Only another 2 weeks.” You exaggerated
“When we get home I’ll give you a shoulder rub.” 
You laughed at him, “I think it’s me who should be giving the shoulder rub.”
He frowned “I hate not being able to relieve your tension.”
“Your hurt love, let me take care of you for once.” you put your hand on his hurt arm “Your hurt babe, so let me help you.” He sighed in defeat but agreed reluctantly.
 About a week later he finally warmed up to you helping him, letting you rub his back, letting you make meals and help him eat them, he got to spend all day with you since he wasn’t able to practice for another week. Maybe hurting his arm wasn’t so bad after all. 

58. Opium

So I couldn’t sleep, and I reworked an old drabble for @rivamika-drabbles -but it went way over 100 words haha. Prompt 58: Opium

“He’s like an ocean.” she comments, her tone affectionate as her lashes flutter against the breeze. Mikasa sighs, and her breath becomes white plumes in the winter air, “Deep, and blue, and great. He thirsts after the very thing he withholds.”

Gunmetal eyes slant towards hers, curious, and she notices the sardonic twist of his lips as he asks, “What am I like, then?”

She takes a moment to consider his question, watching their shadows meld together and dance apart beneath the streetlamp lights.

There’s a mere sliver of space between them, she notices, and every so often she can feel his knuckles brush against her own, can feel the way their fingers threaten to tangle and clasp together with every step she takes. She can’t help but revel in the warmth this fleeting touch invokes, in the way it spirals up her arm and embeds itself deep within her chest.

But the touch is brief, barely a whisper on her skin, and for some reason she aches to reach out and grasp his hand. She knows, however, that such a thing is impossible.

She’s breathing him into her lungs, staining him on her tongue, becoming addicted to the very idea of him. And it’s dangerous, this attraction. Because although he leaves such a distinct impression on her, he remains as impalpable as the day she first met him.

She knows so little of him, of his past, of his aspirations, and what she has accumulated was more out of her volition rather than his own. Perhaps it was his mystique that had initially intrigued her; he’s nearly impossible to grasp, and when she reaches out to touch him he slips through her fingers every time. He’s elusive, she thinks. Intangible.

“Like smoke,” she says, her answer firm and wistful.

Levi is a narcotic, and she is hooked.

An Old Friend

/You have not come to visit me… not for such a long time, little one./ The voice was cool, sickly sweet, laced with just an edge of hardness, like it felt to drag ones fingers over a blade or a shard of shattered glass. It rang with the same noise - a sound just out of range, but enough to make his head hurt all the more. /Did you miss me?/

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