You finish the last page of your sketchbook. You turn the page. There are at least five pages left. Unfilled sketchbooks surround you.
“Is that anime” someone behind you asks. You put down your stick of charcoal. You are in a life drawing class. The person behind you isn’t supposed to be here.
“I wish I could draw!” someone tells you. You give them a withering stare. They do not know what they wish for. You haven’t slept in four years.
No matter how many times you wash your hands, they are still covered in oil paint. You don’t use oils. You don’t remember the last time you used oil paint.
You are drawing in your sketchbook. Someone grabs it while they ask if they can see it. As the sketchbook leaves your hands the piece of your soul that you put in it dies.
Your classes are either at 7 in the morning or 7 at night. There is no in between. Part of you wonders if there is even a point in leaving the art building after your evening class. You’ll be back in less than a few hours anyways.
Nobody calls the art professors by their last names. When you ask what their last names are they tell you to just call them by their first names. You check your class schedule. No last names are listed.
Your roommate asks if you can do a drawing for their biology project. You ask if it’s paid. They look confused. “It will be easy,” they tell you. “You’re so talented.” You haven’t left your room in four days. Your eyes and hands ache from working. You tell them no, and they leave, annoyed.
The room shook with deafening vibrations. He stared in awe at his fellow students who seemed completely oblivious of what was happening right in their presence, and Mr. Thomson droned on as if the room wasn’t about to cave in. Taehyung alone sensed it, like how animals seem to know just before an earthquake is about to strike while the dumb humans went on with their lives unaware of the disaster about to befall them… Or maybe he was the only one hearing it because the source of the vibrations was stuck so far up his ass that each time he shifted in his seat his vision went star-white.
A light chuckle tickled his ear and his tormentor whispered, “Ease up, puppy, you’re gonna call attention to us.” The words were nice and soothing but the hand that ran up the inside of his thigh was anything but.
idk if you do this anymore but i really love your writing and after the last run ep i'm in need of a jikook hc where jk is jm's coach (an athlete and a coach being in love isn't really a new concept for someone who's watched yoi lmao).. if you write it thank you so much and if not it's totally okay 😊
here’s a short thing of jimin learning judo from jungkook!au !!
Jimin plops down on the mat, worn out and panting. “You’re a monster, you know that?”
“Flattery won’t get you anywhere,” Jungkook snorts, crouching until they’re eye-level. “What was that move you tried to do just now? I didn’t teach you that.”
Jimin pouts. “It was nothing. It didn’t work anyway, so - ”
“No. If it were anyone else, you’d have gotten them on their back at the very least.” Jungkook’s brow ticks in realization. “Hey. You’ve been going to Hoseok for pointers again, haven’t you?”
“No. Of course I - Jungkook, no.” But quickly, as usual, Jimin’s defenses crumble in the face of Jungkook’s intense, withering stare. “Okay - maybe I did, so what?”
“Why?” Am I not good enough for you? Jungkook doeesn’t say. Jimin hears it anyway and whines.
“It’s not like that, Kook, it’s just…”
“If you wanted him to be your coach, why’d you come to me?” Jungkook mutters, sitting back on his haunches and running a frustrated hand through his hair. Jimin can’t place the exact nature of the look on his face - whether it’s irritation or jealousy, or something in between.
After too long a silence, Jungkook gets to his feet, turning to stalk off and brood like he often does, when he gets too worked up and has to take a breather before he ends up taking it out on Jimin. Or when he has too much energy to spare and needs to burn some off, alone, where no one will break and bleed under his fists. Sometimes, Jungkook doesn’t like to talk about things, preferring to punch it out.
Jimin scrambles up and latches onto his hand before he can go, palms clammy and shaky from exertion.
“I wanted to impress you,” Jimin whispers.
Jungkook stops in his tracks. He faces Jimin, large eyes widened with shock. “You - what?”
“I wanted to impress you, so I asked Hoseok-hyung to show me a flashy move. He - ” Turning bright red, Jimin sputters, “Don’t laugh, you asshole!”
Choking back the cackles, Jungkook reels Jimin in closer, blocking Jimin’s feeble attempts at smacking some sense into him through his chest. “You wanted to impress me, huh.”
“Shut up. I - I’m never telling you anything ever again,” Jimin threatens, voice wobbly as Jungkook leans down into his space. His attempt at maintaining a fair distance between them has him arching backwards, cheeks aflame.
Jungkook’s smug grin kind of makes him wish he hadn’t fucked up the throw last minute. But it’d been nice to wipe that look off Jungkook’s face even for a second. “So, what was the move he taught you?”
“Hoseok-hyung called it a - a “dead tree drop”?”
“Hm.” Jungkook releases him abruptly. Jimin almost falls backwards and rights himself with a glare. “That’s one name for it. It’s also called the Kuchiki taoshi, or single leg takedown,” he tells him. “Show me again.”
“I - Huh?”
“Try the throw on me,” Jungkook reiterates impatiently.
“You’re just going to pin me down again if I try.”
Jungkook laughs, and the sound warms Jimin all the way to his belly. “Damn. Caught,” he snickers.
And for a moment, Jimin forgets how tired he is - how his whole body aches from head to toe. Jungkook can get so rough when they spar, Jimin often goes home with bruises on his shins and pink finger marks on his arms and back from where Jungkook had grabbed onto him. Even days later he can feel the ghost-like hold Jungkook has on him, both mentally and physically. His roommate has raised one too many eyebrows at them, wondering why Jimin keeps going back to judo when he’s not particularly invested in it in the first place. Jimin always shrugs, doesn’t have it in him to explain.
It’s not really judo that Jimin’s in love with after all, just Jeon Jungkook.
“No, but seriously, try it again. You just need to fix your posture a bit, but it was good. It was a good start, Jimin.”
As much as Jimin can’t stand Jungkook’s teasing, he can’t stand his praises even more. “It was - Thank you, but it wasn’t - I didn’t even get you,” Jimin says embarrassedly.
“Show me again,” Jungkook prompts, the look on his face softening.
Jimin edges closer, unsure. Jungkook doesn’t budge when Jimin hesitantly bends down to take hold of his thigh. He peers up at Jungkook’s expression and swallows tightly. “Do… Do you want me to try the throw?”
Jungkook stares down at him wordlessly for several long moments.
“What - ” Jimin barely has time to feel a sense of foreboding at the grin that stretches Jungkook’s lips before he brings his hand to Jimin’s hair, petting and ruffling his hair aggressively. Jimin straightens with an indignant squawk because - his hair - and makes a valiant effort to move the strands back to their rightful place. Then with heightened resolve, he throws himself at Jungkook in response, reaching up to enact his revenge.
Jungkook’s laughing, barely managing to keep his head out of Jimin’s reach.
“Hold still, you giant brat,” Jimin bites out.
“Is that any way to talk to your teacher,” Jungkook chortles, but his laughter breaks off when Jimin clambers onto his back, locking his legs around his middle and proceeds to make a mess out of his hair. “You’re gonna get it, Jimin,” he growls.
Jimin hates the way his stomach flips at the warning; the way it clenches when Jungkook manages to grab hold on him, sling him over his shoulder in one smooth motion before sending them both falling down onto the mat. At the last second, he switches their position, keeping Jimin’s body cushioned above him.
“I should make you run laps for this,” he murmurs, and his voice reverberates where their chests are pressed together. Jimin can’t tell if he’s serious, but he isn’t going to risk it.
“You started it,” Jimin says breathlessly. Jungkook looks like a dream come true, hair disheveled and a thin sheen of sweat on his skin, and all of it Jimin’s doing.
“No, you did. When you went to Jung Hoseok for help instead of me.”
“Can you let it go?” Jimin whines, though the happiness that colours his tone when Jungkook wraps his arms around him to keep him still is blatant for all ears. “I already told you why I did it.”
Jungkook, with his tongue pressed against his cheek in petulance and obviously not letting it go, mutters, “Yeah, whatever. Don’t do it again. I’m your coach. You can’t go fraternizing with the enemy.”
“Competition,” Jimin corrects. “Not enemy.”
It’s not, but Jimin knows when he’s fighting a losing battle. “Alright,” he acquiesces. “I won’t go to Hobi-hyung for help with judo.”
“’Hobi-hyung’?” Jungkook echoes. “When’d he become ‘Hobi-hyung’? His first name is Competition - ”
“Jungkook, oh my god.”
“You’re not gonna lose to him at the next tournament, you got that Jimin? He’s gonna eat your tiny little fists and - ”
“Jungkookie,” Jimin says with increasing exasperation.
“You’re gonna stand up there on the podium with that gold fucking medal around your neck, and he’s gonna bask in awe as you dead tree kick everyone’s ass after I help you make it perfect - ”
Jimin can’t help the giggles that bubble up, both at the serious set of Jungkook’s brows and the competitive fire burning in his eyes. “Alright. Whatever you say.” He sits up, and Jungkook follows suit. Jimin’s on his lap now, and he tries not to notice that fact. Tries.
“Your stance was a little too high just now. You need to lower yourself more, your center of gravity, and your grip wasn’t in the right place. You need to - ”
“Slow down, you’re rambling,” Jimin says with great fondness.
Jungkook pauses for a breath. “… And - ”
His eyes widen for the briefest moment, before they shut. Jimin doesn’t know where the sudden courage had come from, but this close to Jungkook’s face, Jimin felt brave. It doesn’t feel so out of reach when their bodies are flush together, and Jungkook’s hands are coming up to frame his cheeks, still warm from exertion. Their mouths coming together, again and again, Jungkook’s tongue sliding against his, feels just like another one of their sparring matches.
When they break apart, panting heavily, Jungkook’s got that boyish grin on his face - the one that gets Jimin’s insides all twisted into knots, every damn time without fail. “You need to work on your technique.”
“Fuck off,” Jimin complains. Then, softer, and so fucking in love with Jeon Jungkook: “You gonna show me how it’s done, golden boy?”
said there’s no mistakin’ what i feel is really love
—sam smith (whitney houston cover)
When Sansa had received the gold-leaf invitation to celebrate Loras Tyrell and Renly Baratheon’s spring wedding, her expectations were high. She had known Loras since high school—indeed, she was best friends with his sister Margaery to this day, five years after their graduation—and as such she had come to know the Tyrells to be the most extravagant of families. As a young woman with equally lavish tastes, Sansa had gotten on with them famously.
While never quite so bold or, at times, rather outlandish as Margaery and Loras, because of their influence Sansa had gained a sense of poise and sophistication well beyond that of her own family. That’s not to say that the Starks were not held in high esteem. But Catelyn Stark had always said that while all of her children had been born with silver spoons in their mouths, her eldest daughter had grown up to fashion hers into a crown. Sansa had once taken offense to that, thinking her mother meant to make a materialistic fool of her, but as she grew older she gained a better perspective.
Not one among their elite set did not have a taste for the finer things—not even her younger sister, Arya, much as she would like to pretend otherwise—and Sansa simply accepted her good fortune and used it to do good by herself and others. Margaery felt the need to point this out at every availability, usually when Sansa showed up to a social event with a less-than reputable beau on her arm. Which, even Sansa can admit in retrospect, is often. Loras’ wedding is no exception, although Sansa has yet to look at it in hindsight.
i just had a gut-wrenching-chest-clutching Moment™️ where i nearly cried cuz i just remembered the court scene in blue lily lily blue
how gansey and ronan skipped class and rushed to make it in time to the courtroom gansey desperately asking if they weren’t too late
gansey being such a goober nerd that even the judge knows about his search for glendower like honestly who hasn’t he told (and lol if everyone and their mother knew about gansey’s search how did dumbass whelk not know about it sooner? boy bye) and gansey anxiously telepathically (basically) asking adam if this was okay, if he was allowed to help he jUST WANTS TO HELP
ronan in a goddamn suit and tie (wow can you imagine how hot he looked wowowwo but that is not the point right now) i stay up at night and think of what ronan could’ve possibly said. was he short and brutal as usual, sending withering stares at robert parrish or did he try to be Extra Polite so he wouldn’t fuck up for adam? could you tell how anxious he was in his lil broody face?!
adam thinking he was all alone as if his friends wouldn’t drop everything for him being such a dumb for not telling his best friends but somehow they showed up anyway because they fucking love adam parrish with all their mighty hearts they love him more than any of us sorry to say but gansey will fight you on this
basically these boys love each other sO FUCKING MUCH i literally get Overwhelmed and Consumed by it i can’t function i’m crying again
Hi! Could you do Got7’s reaction to him and his gf doing a couples interview and them being asked about their sex life??
Mark: *blushing and looking away from both the interviewer and from you. He’s definitely not going to say anything about it and nor does he want to see your reaction. So he sits in silence and gives your hand a grateful squeeze when you smoothly reply that a question about your sex life is a little too person.*
JB: *Gives the interviewer this look: the smile is friendly, but the eyes hold murder. The MC stumbles through saying it’s a joke, complete wither super awkward laughter under JB’s withering stare. Meanwhile, off camera, you are dying with laughter and trying to hide it*
Jackson: *I have no doubts that an over-reaction would ensue, including screaming* WAH WHAT TYPE OF QUESTION IS THAT? HAVE YOU NO RESPECT FOR PRIVACY! EVEN I WOULDN’T ASK THAT QUESTION!
Jinyoung: *Handles it smoothly himself, but still while staring daggers at the MC* You can’t honestly expect us to be in positions where we are going to disclose that information in an interview, so that is a very funny joke and we’d love to move to the next question.
Youngjae: *I picture the inside of his mind being like AHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHH at that moment but he plays off the screaming as laughter.*
BamBam: *All too willing to give all too much information, but you manage to get the question changed before he can fully respond. Given the chance he would have been what do you want? Frequency? Quality? Kinks? Sounds? There’s a lot that goes into our sex life you know*
Yugyeom: *Smiles to himself without saying a single word. The innocent makenae may not be so innocent but he’s not going to completely out himself either.*
R: I’m just saying I’m no stranger to the Big Apple. J: You are if you’re calling it the Big Apple. R: So I don’t have the lingo down yet, but at least I have the attitude. J: You do, huh? R: Oh yeah. When I was getting a locker for my backpack at the bus stop, there was this guy and he was just standing there staring at me and instead of ignoring him I just fixed him with a really withering stare.
Request: Hello! Could I request a reader x Loki? Like where Loki has had an accident and the reader finds him unconscious on the roadside during a storm so she takes him to her place to patch him up. He has temporarily lost his memory and they fall in love while she cares for him but when he gets his memory back, she is scared that he’ll leave her behind. Thank you so much!!
A/N: I have so many requests at the moment! Thank you! But I also have a lot of school work so I promise I will get to them asap. I hope you like it!
The heavy rain hit the windshield of your car so hard you thought the window was going to shatter. You hated having to drive home after working late at night because you could barely see anything on the dark and twisted road in front of you. It took you at least forty-five minutes to get home from the city, but tonight it took you longer considering you had to drive slower.
You were almost home and sighed as you continued to drive slowly, feeling like you would never make it home. Suddenly, you thought you saw something on the side of the road thanks to the quick flash of your headlights.
You reversed slowly considering nobody drove down that road at night to see what was on the side of the road. You saw a body lying face up in the grass. Because of the rain you could barely see anything but you noticed that he had shoulder-length ebony black hair, pale skin, and there was blood running down his forehead. You hesitated for a second, trying to figure out what to do. You quickly drove forward and parked on the side of the road just in front of the man. You grabbed your torch out of your glove compartment and got out of the car, running towards where he was, shielding yourself from the rain with your arms.
You couldn’t take him to the hospital, it was too far away and you couldn’t call an ambulance because there was no cell service for the majority of the highway. You were a nurse though, and going back to your place and taking care of him yourself might have been the only option right now.
You took off your jacket and covered yourself and the man with it so you could see him and identify him properly. You shone the torch at him and checked his pulse. He was still alive. You looked at him, carefully trying to examine his wounds. You could tell he had a broken arm, a possible concussion, and there was bruising all around his left rib. You sighed and ran back to your car, grabbing a towel you kept in the back seat for your dogs and ran over to him, rolling him onto the towel so you could carry him to the back seat of your car. You managed to drag his body to your car and just managed to lift him onto the back seat, trying not to make his injuries worse. You climbed into the drivers seat from the back and started your car, trying to drive as slowly as possible but trying to make it home so you could get your equipment.
About fifteen minutes later you finally made it home and got the man into your house and started to get your medical equipment. You rested him on your couch (with great difficulty) and took off his shirt to treat his bruising. You knew this was going to be a long night…
You lifted your head up from your book as you heard heavy breathing coming from in front of you. The man was starting to wake up. You had managed to stitch up some of his wounds and fix up his bruised rib, although it needed a lot of time to heal and you were by no means an expert. You got up and walked over to him to see how he was doing. He was breathing slowly and heavily and shifted around a little bit. He winced a little bit when he moved, still half asleep. You walked back over to your bathroom and grabbed some antiseptic and brought it back so you could apply some more to his wounds. You walked back to your lounge room and hesitated at the door when you realised he was awake. You sighed and approached him carefully.
He started to sit up but immediately fell back down and winced in pain. You walked over to him and looked down at him, pouring the antiseptic delicately onto a small rag.
“Don’t move, you’ll undo your stitches” you said quietly but sternly as you squatted down beside him and rubbed the rag on his cuts.
He grimaced as you cleaned up the cuts along his arm but eventually relaxed as he got used to it. For a few seconds he just looked at you, as if he was identifying you. Or at least he was trying to piece together what had happened to him.
“Who are you?” he asked, his tone slightly confused.
“I’m the person who just saved your ass, I think I have more of a right to know who you are considering I didn’t have that much of an option whilst I was dragging you off the side of the road” you said, venting a little bit considering you were exhausted and cranky.
“I-I don’t remember” he said, looking at you.
“What do you mean ‘You don’t remember’?” you replied, still annoyed you weren’t getting any information.
“What do you think it means?” he replied with a sarcastic tone. You stared at him with a really withering stare that was one of your signature looks. You couldn’t remember how many times you used it on people when they were pushing your limits. You even couldn’t remember how many times most people had pushed your limits. More than your liking however.
“I’m sorry if I’m a little sceptical of the injured stranger I found on the side of the road in the middle of the night” you replied and you saw him smirk at you out of the corner of your eye.
“I’m sorry, you’re right to be suspicious love” he replied. You stopped cleaning the cuts and placed the rag and bottle on the table beside you.
“My name’s Loki, and that’s the majority of what I remember” he added after a moments hesitation.
“Loki?” you responded sceptically “Really?”
“Fine, call me whatever you want if you find that too baffling” he said, seeming exasperated.
“No need…Loki’s fine” you replied as you walked over to the cupboard behind the couch to grab a glass. You talked to him whilst you were grabbing him some water.
“So you remember nothing?” You asked him, still sceptical.
“Bits and pieces, but nothing of importance to you” he said, with a confident but also defensive tone.
“Try me” you replied, raising your eyebrow at him whilst you placed the glass under the tap. Loki smirked again and then looked at the ceiling thoughtfully.
“I remember someone attacking me, then I remember something large hitting me and I fell to the side of the road, and then I blacked out” he said, still looking up and not making eye contact. “I don’t remember much before that” he added.
You walked over to him with the glass of water and a straw and squatted down beside the couch.
“Here, drink this” you said. He rolled his head towards you and you only just noticed how captivating his eyes were. He raised his eyebrow at you and you chuckled at his non verbal response.
“You really think after all this I would result to poisoning you?” you said with a smirk. He sighed and you lifted the glass towards him and he took a large gulp of water. When he was done you placed the glass on the table and you picked up your phone to see if you had any texts.
“Why are you helping me?” he asked, still not completely trusting of you.
“Because I wasn’t going to leave you dying on the side of the road. Also I’m a nurse, it’s kind of my job” you said, putting your phone down and then cleaning up some of your supplies. “Is there anything about yourself that you can remember that you wouldn’t mind sharing with me?” you added.
He shook his head subtly, “Not really, I remember a little bit about my parents” he said.”Not exactly a highlight of my life though” he added, looking away from you.
“What were they like?” you asked, finishing packing away your supplies and sitting down comfortably waiting to hear more…
It had been a month since you had found Loki and the two of you had started a nice friendship together. You were very lonely before you had met him and you had almost forgotten what it was like to have someone in your life that you cared about other than your patients. You and Loki talked about almost everything that had happened in your life. Every now and then, Loki would remember small things from his life and he would talk to you about them. The both of you sometimes joked about what his life was actually like and came up with strange scenarios of how he ended up on the side of the road. But you secretly wished he never remembered. You knew it was selfish, but you wanted him to stay with you. You knew you would be so lonely without him, and you would even go as far as to say that you had feelings for him. But you wanted to wait for the right moment.
You drove home late one night and you decided that tonight was the night. You were going to tell Loki how you felt. You knew that you had to sooner or later. You were just scared that he would remember everything that happened to him, and decide that he didn’t need you anymore.
You drove up your driveway and got out of your car, breathing deeply.
You can do this, it’s not that hard
You walked up to your door and sighed as you opened the door. You saw Loki sitting on your couch reading one of the books you had given him. He smiled when he saw you and when he smiled you couldn’t help but smile back.
“Y/N, how are you?” he said as he put the book down and got up off the couch slowly, wincing as he did so. He had healed quite a bit, but a few of his injuries still lingered.
“I-I’m fine” you said, trying to hide your nervousness but doing it awfully.
“Is there something wrong love?” he said as he walked closer towards you, limping a little bit.
You breathed deeply and stared into his eyes.
“Loki, I need to tell you something. I’ve barely ever had anyone as close to me as you are right now and I feel really comfortable around you and I wanted to let you know that I’ve had feelings for you for quite some time. I’m just worried that you don’t feel the same or you won’t need me anymore when you remember everything and I just wanted to tell you this because I care about you too much to lie to you about this” you said nervously. You held your breath waiting for a response from Loki but he just stared at you. After a while he smiled at you and chuckled a little.
“What?” you asked, confused by his reaction.
“Y/N…I didn’t want to lie to you either but I did” he said. He hesitated for a moment and you prepared for rejection.
“I got my memories back two weeks ago. I remembered everything. I also remembered that my family does not want me nor loved me and someone I once cared about was the one who left me to die on the side of that road. I also didn’t stay because I had nowhere else to go. I stayed because I couldn’t imagine going anywhere else without you” You felt breathless as he moved closer to you and touched your hands. You responded by holding his hands tightly in yours.
“Are you going to tell me more about your life?” you asked, smiling up at him and holding his hands tightly.
He chuckled as he looked down at his feet and then looked back up at you, his eyes shining.
Robin and his men mostly kept to themselves during those first few weeks in the castle, wary of attracting the wrong sort of attention (the Queen, of course, had already given every indication that they’d long overstayed their welcome as far as she was concerned).
Roland, on the other hand, had no trouble making friends. Within days of their arrival, Leroy had granted him honorary dwarf status, and on the seventh morning he marched right up to sandwich himself between elbows at the royal table, much to Robin’s outward chagrin.
(In secret, he found he rather enjoyed the way the Queen would startle and soften, letting Roland sneak crumbs off her plate while she smiled in a way that made it impossible for Robin to look anywhere else.)
His boy was also quite fond of the cats – strays, much like themselves – that roamed the courtyards when the weather permitted. He took to storing small bits of fish in his pockets for them, until Robin, having grown tired of washing out the smell from his clothes, suggested they ask Granny to stock up on some extra containers of cream instead.
They spent many of their afternoons out in those courtyards, Roland practicing his sparrow calls until the cats slunk out of hiding to join him. Robin would relax his weight into the base of a tree, idly whittling arrows from fallen tree branches while his son chattered at his newfound friends. They would mewl and purr contentedly back, rolling belly-up for him to scratch at once they’d had their fill of the milk he brought them.
They mostly tolerated Robin’s presence, so long as he sat there quietly; truth be told, he had never considered himself much of a cat person anyway, and he was fairly certain he was at least somewhat allergic to them. Once they’d determined him to be nothing more than a harmless, larger-sized version of Roland, they would come sit near him from time to time, batting at his pile of arrows or rubbing their heads against his forearm when he wasn’t paying them enough attention, looking quite taken aback each time that he sneezed.
The majority did not hang around long enough to earn themselves a name, but there were a few regulars: an orange-spotted tabby that Roland took to calling Pepper, a tortoiseshell with prominent brown ears that got nicknamed Pinecone.
One cat in particular would not emerge until the very end of the day, and even then she remained deliberately perched between shadows, just beyond reach of the sun and not a paw more than that. If milk was what she came for, she made no sign of it; rather, she seemed satisfied to stay by her little corner of stone until Robin was forced to grow strict about bedtime, and he would gather a yawning Roland into his arms (reminding the boy of that storybook Queen Regina had lent him when he refused to go easily).
Robin didn’t mean to make a habit of it, but each time his gaze would swing back, searching, to just catch the tip of her ebony tail as it slipped behind columns and became one with the night.
A/N: It’s been a while since we wrote something together, but we hope you enjoy this. We think it’s going to be about 5 parts long. This part is all Harry fluff. Enjoy!
It’s already dark outside, but the chilly summer breeze feels comfortable. It had been a warm day, not hot like the days in late August usually are – a perfect day for a wedding. I want such a glorious day for my own wedding. The sun shone high in the sky during the day, and now the stars and the moon are twinkling with fairy lights.
I’m sitting in my chair, my place card in front of me in case I forget my name. Giggling at my own joke, I play with the white card which tells me my name in raised gold letters. My other hand rests on the stem of my wine glass. It’s nearly midnight. I promised myself I could leave at midnight, go upstairs to my room and sleep, falling onto the bed while still in my dress without removing make up. Who cares? I am alone here, so nobody will see me in the morning. My plan is to leave early tomorrow, so maybe I will be able to escape the parents of the bride. I crave my flat, a warm bath with a glass of wine, and listening to my favourite records. Yes, my flat is tiny, so I can hear the record player in my bathroom. Though my cozy home is small I could never relinquish the luxury of a bathtub. I sigh yearningly as I think of my empty flat.
★ Author: Beebs (Beta read by Rissy) A/N: This is my longest fic so far… Let me know what you all think!! I would love to hear any feedback. Also let me know if you would be interested in a part two!
★ Plot: One of the craziest, most painful days in recent memory turns out to be nothing you asked for, but everything you seemed to have needed. All thanks to Jin.
“Dude! What about her?” Jin heard Taehyung’s
voice invade his thoughts as he looked over to see Taehyung wiggling his
eyebrows at a girl he would typically bring home. She was tan, blonde curly
hair, long slender legs that were dressed in black stilettos and a red dress
that didn’t leave much to the imagination. She was standing in the middle of
the bar twirling her hair around her fingers as she flitted around the dance
floor. “Too much make up for my taste…” Jin sighed and looked at Tae with a
face of pure boredom as he listened to her thoughts of how every guy that seemed to come up to her was not good enough. “Suit
yourself. I am going to take the opportunity to make my presence known….and make sure she doesn’t forget.” Tae thought as he pushed
himself off the bar and beelined straight for her. He winked at Jin over the blonde’s shoulder as he quickly made his move to begin dancing with her to whatever top 40s song they were blaring for probably the 3rd time tonight.
“I need a shower,” Daisy groans out, rubbing her hands down
her face. She flops back on the seedy motel bed, eyes pointed toward the white,
popcorn ceiling in a withering stare. “Why do I even need a shower? We’re in
the fucking Matrix, none of this is real. Yet still, I smell. It’s completely
Jemma sits at the foot of the bed, inspecting the map they’ve
drawn on the wall (it’s not like it’ll matter, once they shut the framework
down. What’s a little destruction of private property in the grade scheme of
things?). Each of the team’s locations are marked with pushpins, along with
lists of all the information they’ve managed to gather on them. It’s not enough,
Jemma knows. They need more.
“You do smell a little.”
Jemma turns back to her, blinking innocently. “What? I said ‘a
“Whatever.” Daisy pushes off the bed, walks backwards toward
the bathroom. She raises an eyebrow at Fitz, who’s sitting on the other bed. “You
two gonna be okay without adult supervision for a little while?”
Jemma freezes. She and Fitz, this Fitz—Leo, he’s called
here, though she refuses to call him that, even in her head—haven’t been alone
together since they finally managed to convince him to come along. She knows
what Daisy’s implying, and Jemma wishes she wouldn’t. She’s more than a little
uncomfortable with the idea. This isn’t Fitz. Her Fitz. That’s what she tells
herself is the problem, anyway.
“Yeah- uh- yeah, we’ll be fine,” Fitz says when she doesn’t
speak, when it’s gotten just a little uncomfortable.
Daisy eyes them both, then holds up her hands, retreating to
Jemma doesn’t turn around to look at him. She knows what she’ll
see. He’ll be sitting there, looking so much like Fitz but so not, so, so out
of place in his posh suit and scarf. Looking like a person who would never set
foot in a motel of all places, which he’d voiced when they’d arrived. He’s
close, but he’s not Fitz. So she doesn’t look.
Plus, he might be looking back at her. She doesn’t know
exactly why, but that’s the last thing she wants.
So she just focuses on the work in front of her. Not that
she’ll figure out anything new just by staring at the same slips of paper they
have been for the last two days, but still. The effort matters.
He waits until the water is running in the shower before he
speaks. His presence alone is stifling, but his voice is something even more
“Why do you want me back?” he asks, and of all things it’s
not what she expected. It confuses her enough that she looks back at him. He’s
watching her carefully, thoughtfully, not really looking at her eyes but lower
on her face, and it’s so Fitz-like that she wants to cry.
“I- He- obviously
wasn’t very good to you. Why do you even want him back?”
Her eyebrows draw together, mouth popping open in confusion.
“Where are you getting that? Fitz is never anything but good to me.”
The realization hits him like the blow of a war hammer. Shit. He has a massive crush on the Inquisitor, and can’t do a damn thing about it. He realizes it as they smile at him after a long day, sitting by him, talking to him, just… hanging out with him. He realizes it when the Inquisitor giggles upon seeing him sitting on the top of the back of the chair, boots firmly set on the seat. A few times, he almost asks them to do something with him, anything– a leisurely walk? A game of cards and a drink on him, maybe a nice trip to a nice restaurant? He ends up tongue-tied every time he’s about to ask and just stutters and changes the subject.
Bull’s noticed, of course, and the Chief has tried to convince him, numerous times, to just tell them. Whenever Krem talks to the Inquisitor in the tavern, should his eyes slip over to Bull for even a split second, he sees Bull waving his hand, eye staring hard at him, just try, Krem, he begs silently. Finally, one night, Krem gets close, so close to asking. “Your Worship, I was wondering, er– I just wanted to know if sometime, you wouldn’t mind, um…” Bull is dying from his spot in the tavern watching him. “… you… wouldn’t mind… trying to catapult one of the nug dolls I sewed using a trebuchet?” Bull’s groan echoes throughout the tavern, and the Inquisitor, baffled but polite, nods and tells Krem they’ll inform Cullen to ready a trebuchet for testing.
Krem sinks back into the seat of the chair after they leave, and he ignores Bull’s withering stare. “You were so close. So close, Krem-de-la-Krem.” Bull moans.
Bull’s lieutenant opts to take another swig of his bottle of wine instead of responding. He’d get around to actually asking. Eventually.
I desperately needed some fluff after the barrage of wonderful gifs we got over the past few days. Here’s a drabble that popped into my head.
*Notes after the fic
Jyn couldn’t move. She desperately, achingly, needed to, but she just couldn’t. Sleep had long eluded her, and she gave a withering stare to the snoring figure lying beside her. If he hadn’t been resting up from a mission she would have probably “accidentally” nudged him in the ribs with her elbow. Hard.
At least one of us can get some sleep, she thought bitterly. She tried moving again, leveraging herself against the wall beside her, the soreness in her right hip pushing her to desperate measures. Her flailing limbs still failed to wake Cassian, although she was sure she had hit him a few times. He had only grunted softly, but otherwise showed no signs of waking.
There would be no avoiding it. This was partly his fault, anyway.
“Cassian,” she hissed, but she was only answered by a slight stutter in his snore. “Cassian!” a little louder now, through gritted teeth. He finally lifted his head up slightly, and in the semi-darkness Jyn could see him blinking the sleep out of his eyes.
“Mm… Jyn? What’s wrong?” his voice was thick from sleep, but his eyes narrowed in on her, and for a moment Jyn felt a pang of regret for waking him, and possibly worrying him. The moment passed quickly, however.
“You need to get up.” she demanded, in that tone Cassian knew all too well.
“Ah. Of course.” Cassian pulled the blanket off of them and got out of the bed, leaving ample space for Jyn to crawl out.
Jyn shimmied her way to the edge of the bed, swung her legs out and over, but when she tried to sit up, nothing happened. Cassian stood by the bed. Jyn lay half out of the bed, half in it. For a few agonizing seconds, they were at an impasse.
“Help me. Please.” Jyn finally spit out. Cassian tried not to chuckle as he grabbed a hold of her arms and pulled her into a sitting position. She begrudgingly took his hands but once she was sitting she pulled away, not meeting his eyes. She turned back towards the bed, crawled back to her side, and lay down again, this time on her left side.
Cassian waited the requisite few seconds, while she adjusted herself and got comfortable, before he asked, “All good?”
He was only met with a soft snore.
Chuckling to himself, he crawled back into bed and wrapped his arm around the swell of her stomach, marveling at how, in just a week or so, there would be someone else keeping them awake at night.
A/N: Someone once told me that when she was nine months pregnant, if she wanted to switch the side she was lying on, she couldn’t just flip over. She would have to get out of bed, and crawl back in. I thought this was a preposterous story. Until I was nine months pregnant myself. Anyway, I don’t headcanon Jyn getting too big when she’s pregnant, but that belly definitely makes sleeping very challenging lol