#opening a museum is going to be hard and what if it fails

[cowgurrrl]

You're My Only Hope for Heaven

Pairing: Joel Miller x fem!reader

Author's note: oh bitch I'm having a fucking blast with this dynamic the slow burn is slow burning

Summary: An unlikely patron saunters into your bar [3.5k]

Warnings: one (1) creepy guy, one (1) fake marriage, lots of flirting that’s not flirting but it’s not not flirting, one (1) kiss

You try not to make it a habit of picking up bar shifts during the week. Not only is it almost always slow, and you barely make any money, but it's hard to go from teaching for eight hours directly to another job. You'd much rather be at home, grading or doing something for yourself for the first time in weeks. But you couldn't say no when Katie called you, almost in tears, begging you to take her shift so she could deal with a burst pipe in her house. You don't regret doing her a favor, but you do regret other things as you stand behind the mostly empty bar as whatever game is happening plays on the screen above your head. You think it's a UT game. Or maybe A&M. Or any of the other SEC Texas schools with an absurd football budget. 

You're basically yawning your way through your shift and working through your newest painting in your head, trying and failing to not think about school until absolutely necessary. Principal Martinez is cracking down on the stupid minutiae the school board demands of its teachers, and you spent most of your afternoon writing student objectives on the board. On top of that, your art club kids have been begging you to plan a field trip to the local art museum for weeks. You finally relented, but the paperwork is mind-numbing and requires much more work than you thought. Between working, making art, and trying to live your life, you barely have time. 

Another reason you hate working weekdays is the creepy regulars. Normally, you can ignore them on a busy Saturday night, but it's harder when it's as dead as it is. You have no idea how Katie deals with them on a regular basis. It started with a guy at the bar, you think his name is Steve, asking you progressively invasive questions. "How old are you?" "You gotta boyfriend?" "What time do you get off?" One right after each other, even after you made it clear you're not interested. Fake laughing and making excuses to run to the back or change a keg don't throw him off. 

"Keep it up, and I'll cut you off." You finally threaten after he asks you why you're being a bitch. You roll your eyes when the bell above the door rings, probably admitting yet another asshole who's gonna make your night hell. When you turn toward the door, the words leave you before you can stop them. "You've gotta be fucking kidding me."

"Now, is that any way to greet your customers?" Joel chuckles, and you sigh as he sits down in front of you. Thankfully, his brother is not in tow, and you can save yourself a little embarrassment. "I didn't know you worked here."

"I don't," you say. "Whatcha drinkin'?" 

"Looks like you're workin' to me." He smirks and you shoot him a look.

"You wanna free drink or not?" 

"Shiner," he answers quickly. You hum in acknowledgment, not even bothering with the POS system and going right to the fridge to pull a bottle out for him. You pop the cap off and place a napkin under the beer before sliding it to him. "Are you bribin' me?"

"You've gotta be faster with your questions, Miller. You've already accepted it. Might as well enjoy." You say, and he laughs. 

"Well, alright, then," he says, raising his beer to you before taking a quick sip. "So, what's this, then? You moonlightin' as a bartender?" He asks, and you fight yourself on how to answer. What if word gets back to parents? Administration? They couldn't reprimand you for that, right? You know plenty of other teachers with second jobs, so it can't be that taboo. Still, you're hesitant to open up to Joel. Out of all the people who could've walked into your bar tonight, it had to be him.

"Something like that." You settle on, wiping a sticky spot on the bar to avoid his gaze. If he feels anything negative about you having a second job, his face doesn't show it. He has a soft smile on his lips and a slight sunburn across his nose, highlighting the freckles living there that previously went unnoticed. You want to tease him about not wearing sunscreen, but the joke dies in your throat when he rests his elbows on your bar, showing off those stupid biceps you can't not look at. He catches your eyes lingering near the short sleeve of his shirt and opens his mouth like he's going to say something, but a grating voice from the other side of the bar cuts him off.

"Excuse me, sweetheart! You've got other patrons over here!" Steve yells, and you feel your eye twitch at his attitude. Joel notices.

"What's wrong with him?" He asks quietly, leaning forward over the bar to get closer to you. Looking into his brown eyes and confused expression, an idea forms.

"Pretend you know me." You say, and his eyebrows knit together, every emotion visible on his face. 

"I do know you."

"No, I mean," you sigh. "That guy over there is a regular on Wednesdays, and the girl who usually works is married, so he doesn't try anything with her, but I won't give him my number, and he's making me fucking miserable. So, just... pretend to know me." Joel is bigger than Steve. Much bigger. Probably a whole head taller and much broader than the man on the other side of the bar. One word from Joel, and he might actually shut up or, better yet, leave altogether so you can finish your day without any more hiccups.

"Okay," Joel agrees, and you reflexively reach out to touch his thick forearm and squeeze. You don't even realize you did it until he smiles like he won a staring contest or something.

"Thank you," you say before turning and bracing yourself to deal with Steve. "What can I do for you, sir?" You ask, but before you can even finish your sentence, he holds up his empty beer bottle and waves it in front of your face like you're stupid. 

"Another beer." He says, and you bite your tongue. 

"You got it."

"Finally," he groans. "You'd think for such an easy fuckin' job, you'd be better at it." 

"What the fuck is your problem?" You ask, refusing to move from your spot to get him his beer, and he scoffs.

"My problem is that you're bein' a fuckin' bitch and ignorin' me when I didn't do nothin' wrong." He's slurring his words together at this point, and you wordlessly go to the POS system to close his tab and send him on his way. "Hey, I'm talkin' to you!" He yells after you.

"Hey, man, why don't you leave her alone? She's just tryna do her job." Joel speaks up from the other side of the bar, and Steve straightens up in his seat as he assesses Joel. 

"This isn't any of your fuckin' business. Stay out of it."

"It's my business now. That's no way to speak to a lady. I think you owe her a mighty big apology." 

"I don't owe her shit," he spits, and you look over to see Joel setting his jaw and squaring his shoulders. "Why's this even matter to you, big shot?"

"That's my fuckin' wife you're mouthin' off to," Joel says without hesitation, and you quickly school your expression. Wife? You asked him to play along, but you didn't think he'd say that. "So, if you wanna keep the rest of your teeth, I suggest you apologize to her, leave her a nice, big tip for dealin' with your sorry ass, and get yourself a ride home." 

Steve is silent as you take the empty bottle away from him— just in case things get really ugly— and slide him his card and bill. He eyes Joel carefully for a few tense seconds before picking up a pen, signing his check, and leaving without another word. The second he's out the door, you feel a weight lift off your shoulders and sigh at the relief. You scrub a hand down your face and look over at Joel.

"You okay?" He asks gently like you're a spooked horse, and you nod. You take a few minutes to get yourself together, putting in Steve's 30% tip and cleaning off the empty bar before returning to Joel. "What?" He asks when he catches you smirking.

"At least buy a girl dinner before you call me your wife." You say, and he laughs, shaking his head. 

"You said the other girl is married. I just took it and ran," he says. "And I already tried to take you to dinner, but somebody said no." 

"School regulation says it's unethical." 

"Well, we're not at school now, and you're certainly not a teacher right now." He says smoothly, vaguely gesturing to your all-black outfit, and you give him a look. "What time d'you get off?"

"You're gonna get me in trouble." You whisper, and he leans forward across the bar. 

"All I did was ask you a question." He whispers back, playfully mocking you. It could be the smile on his face, the relaxed humor behind his eyes, or the fact that he stood up for you because you asked him to, but you glance between him and the clock and take a deep breath. 

"I get off at 12. Unless it stays dead like this, then I'm closing early," you say, and his smile grows. "But this is not a date." 

"'Course not." He chuckles, and you raise your eyebrows at him. 

"I'm serious. I need you to say it's not a date, so I know you won't come after me if your kid fails my class." 

"Is my kid failing your class?"

"No, she's amazing. But for my own mental well-being, I need you to say that this is not a date." You say, and he grabs your wrist to stop your anxious wringing. 

"Let me buy you a drink. That's it. Nothin' more," he says, squeezing you. "This ain't a date." 

"Thank you." You sigh, and he nods. 

You spend an hour or two idling between conversations with Joel and trying to look busy for any manager who might care enough to check the cameras. You're pretty much done with all your closing duties by 10:00, and you wait until it's been a full hour since anyone else came in to flip the closed sign and do a few last-minute things. When the bar is completely clean, empty, and ready for the next shift, you slink back behind it to make yourself and Joel a drink before sitting beside him. 

"You feelin' proud of yourself for getting us here?" You ask as you clink your glass against his and take a sip. 

"Yeah, I've got the prettiest girl in the whole place sittin' by me," he says, and before you can even scold him, he throws his hands up. "Not a date." 

"Not a date." You repeat.

"Still true, though."

"Don't make me regret saying yes to you, Mr. Miller." You say, and he gives you a look. You like teasing him, especially since you can always see exactly how he's feeling. He's not particularly subtle, contrary to what you're sure others think about him. 

"How many times do I have to tell you to call me Joel?" 

"As many times as it takes, I guess," you shrug. "You also clearly have an aversion to being called Mr. Miller."

"My dad was Mr. Miller." He says, and you roll your eyes, groaning and half-folding in on yourself dramatically. 

"Oh, my God, do you know how many men have said that to me since I've become a teacher?"

"Well, it's true!" He says. "Are you sayin' other people are tryna tell my wife to call ‘em by their first names?" He asks, and you laugh. 

"Believe it or not, you're not the first single parent to ask me out." 

"Am I the first one you said yes to?" 

"So far." 

"So far?" He asks, raising his eyebrows, and you hum. "I'll take it." 

Unsurprisingly, Joel is really easy to talk to. He asks questions about your life outside of work, where you went to school, and what made you want to be a teacher. You ask him about his job and family and, somehow, end up talking about the latest cheesy action film he's seen. When both your drinks are empty, the glasses sit there, the ice slowly melting as you talk into the night. Every time a hint of anxiety creeps up your spine, he makes you laugh or tells you an interesting story from his past and distracts you from it. You lose hours sitting there, and you don't even realize it until your phone pings you with a reminder, and you suddenly see it's past midnight.

"Oh, shit," you mumble, showing Joel the time. "I gotta lock up."

"And you have school tomorrow." He says, and you groan as you stand and grab your glasses. 

"Don't remind me. I've got like five million things waiting to get done there." You say. He watches you step behind the bar, leave them in the sink for the opener to find, and no doubt send a catty message in the group chat asking who closed the night before. His eyes don't leave you even when you reach up and grab your bag, your sleeve falling down just enough to reveal a nasty bruise.

"Woah, that looks like it hurt," he says, gesturing to your arm. "How'd you get that?"

"Promise you won't laugh." Your response does nothing to clear up his confusion, but he raises his right hand and makes a cross over his heart.

"I promise." His tone is gentle and even, but you're still hesitant to actually admit it.

"I fell off a table." 

"I told you!"

"Hey!" You scold. "You promised you'd be cool about it!"

"I promised not to laugh." He says, and you roll your eyes. "They still haven't come to fix it for ya?"

"Would I be climbing on tables if they did?"

"Fair enough," he shrugs. You find the bar keys at the bottom of your purse and walk over to where he's still sitting, your hand resting on the back of your chair. He shifts forward until he can catch the edge of your sleeve and roll it up to see the bruise in all her glory. His fingers are warm, and his touch light as he traces the edge of it, not firm enough to make it ache but enough that you feel the pads of his fingers. You freeze like your stillness will be enough for the feather-light touches to continue, your eyes meeting for a split second. He clears his throat and rolls your sleeve back down for you, drawing his hand back. "Tell you what," he says. "I gotta buddy who gets me a good deal on some spare parts. Let me see if I can track down the part you need, and I'll come fix it myself. Free of charge."

"You don't have to do that." 

"And let my wife fall off tables?" He asks, a smirk pulling on his lips, and you shake your head. "It's the least I can do for the free drinks and, ya know, teachin' my kid." 

"Fine, but don't make it a thing. The maintenance people already don't like me. I can't imagine seeking outside help will make them like me." 

"I won't make it a thing," he promises, leaning back in his chair as his eyes travel up and down your body. He sighs heavily and sucks his teeth like you're suddenly too much, and you smile. "It's a damn shame this wasn't a date."

"What'd you do if it was?" The question borders on dangerous, but you can't take it back now that you've said it. It seems to have piqued Joel's interest, too, because he raises his eyebrows at you.

"You really wanna know?" He asks, and you nod.

"I really wanna know," you say. "How does Joel Miller end a successful date?" He gets a little bashful at the question, a blush creeping up his neck, and you knock his knee with yours to get his attention. "C'mon, don't get shy on me now."

"Alright, alright," he grumbles. "If this were a date, and we were gettin' ready to go out separate ways, I'd walk you out to your car, open the door for ya 'cause a lady should never open her own doors," his voice is slow and low, and he watches your face as he speaks. "And I'd kiss you. Nice and slow so I don't scare ya off or anythin'. I might put a hand on your waist or bite that pretty lip or somethin'. And right when I can feel you wantin' a little more, gettin' a little desperate, I'd stop, say goodnight, and walk back to my truck." His words have a devastating effect on you, and you can't look away from him. The heat rolling off him in waves makes you too warm and flustered. His gaze flicks from your eyes to your lips, his own tongue darting out to wet his plump bottom lip, and you have half a mind to think he's looking at you like he wants to eat you alive. You have half a mind to let him. 

"You're right," you finally breathe. "It's a shame this isn't a date." He nods and stands, his broad chest grazing yours as you look up at him. You're not a science teacher by any means. If you were, you might be able to explain the magnetism you feel toward Joel or what stupid chemical in your brain makes you wonder what tricks he keeps up his sleeve. But you're not. You're an art teacher. So, the only thing you can focus on is the deep brown of his irises and the heavy lashes and crow's feet that frame his eyes. And the swoop of his salt and pepper curls, the tint of his slightly pink forehead and strong nose. You want to capture his image in the dim lighting of the bar, but you settle for committing it to memory to scribble in the margins of your notebook for the rest of the week. Why couldn't you have been a science teacher?

Neither of you says anything as he finally steps away, giving you the space to turn off the last of the bar lights and push through the haze he created in your mind. He lingers by the door and opens it for you when you go to the front and step into the humid Austin night. You lock the doors and give him a small smile when you turn around to see him rocking back and forth on the balls of his feet. 

Then, just as he said, he walks you to your car and opens the driver's side door for you. His truck, the only other car in the parking lot, is parked a few spaces away from yours. It would've been so much easier to just ignore you, get in his car, and drive away, but here he is, being the gentleman he's always been toward you. You step into the space created by the open door and throw your bag in the passenger seat, but don't get in the car. Not yet. He sighs heavily, like he's in physical pain, when you meet his eyes again, and his hand flexes around the edge of your car door. 

"Thanks for my not date." You mumble, and he nods. You're close (and weak) enough that brushing his lips would just take a strong breeze. It freaks you out how okay you are with the idea of "accidentally" kissing Joel Miller. You should be panicking. Alarm bells should be sounding in your head, but the only thing filling the cavernous space is the echo of his voice explaining what he'd do if this were a date. Idiot.

He leans on your door a little more, and your heart quickens, thinking he might actually be the one to make the move. His head ducks just a little, and you get a strong whiff of his cologne, your eyes fluttering shut at the scent. Your throat is suddenly dry, and you're all but pushing up on your toes when he swerves past your lips and presses a chaste, firm kiss to your cheek. His beard scratches your soft skin pleasantly, and you keep your eyes closed until he pulls away, looking like he just won a prize.

"Get home safe." He says as he steps back, still holding your door open. You sigh and fight a smile as you look at him— cocky, vindicated, and knowing exactly what he just did. 

"Goodnight, Joel." You manage to get out before sitting down and letting him gently shut the door for you. You wait until he gets in his truck to roll your window down and shout his name until he does the same. "I'm gonna get you back for that."

"Oh, I'm countin' on it, darlin'."

TAGLIST: @abbyhaslongshorts @kiwiharrykiwi @sumsworldz @myloveistoolittle @anavatazes @marantha @cosmoscoffeee @shyminnie07 @beezusvreeland @eddiemunsonsbedroom @harriedandharassed @doodlebob-mp3

#hippies and cowboys #joel miller fluff #joel miller fic #joel miller au #joel miller x reader #joel miller the last of us #joel miller #the last of us au #the last of us fluff #the last of us fic #tlou au #tlou fluff #tlou fic #joel tlou #tlou #tlou hbo #joel miller x f!reader #joel miller x female reader #joel miller x you

[holdinbacksecrets]

shadow, my shadow, my shadow (part 2)

i was so excited to post part 1 even though i didn’t have 13 blurbs finished. a big enough part of me thought the rest wouldn’t be written, so i posted the seven that were done… but here we are. the remaining six blurbs are finished. happy reading. i hope you enjoy them 🖤

joshua: you’re terrified to go home and see the parent who kept distance between himself and the verb. but here you are, standing on his doorstep, watching your shoe brush a dead leaf before a face you love comes into view, his knees bent and body crouched. his face is a calming reminder as is the feeling of comfort that radiates from his being beside you: you’ll be ok, he’s with you

jun: he stocks your fridge. he spends sunday mornings planning meals and making lists before checking to see what you already have. he’s never late—he never makes you wait. he kisses your cheek in front of his friends. his drop-offs linger. he keeps your secrets, holds them gently until the shame blisters. he’s proving you wrong

jihoon: the words are traced across the table because you keep opening your mouth and fail to hear a line of truth. he intimidates you. seeing him in this room again feels like being in a museum exhibit for your love. fragments are pouring in, hanging on display, and it’s hard to breathe after seeing what you have to live up to. can you be that beautiful together again? is the question worth answering?

minghao: if you lay bare long enough, someone will eventually cover you up. they’ll recognize the sweetness on your skin wafting to them stronger than before. because you’re trying to be vulnerable. you’re showing up to the party as your whole self, instead of consciously leaving pieces behind, and he will dance with you

seungkwan: it’s not that you miss him, it’s just that the sky parts and love pours through to blanket you, to give you more of what you pray for. it’s there in the morning, sticking to the walls, coating your throat, pulling him out of every corner in your mind, from behind every shadow in your chest. it’s simply him you want to share the love with

hansol: you don’t know what to say. all you know is the emotions bubbling up in the car. your legs are folded. your chin is pressed against your jeans as you watch the city lights. without your glasses, the lights blur into neon streaks. the blur bleeds while you cry, but he takes your hand, so you close your eyes and realize there’s nothing to say because there’s no judgment. he didn’t take you home to show off the crystal clear bond, the radiating love. he didn’t take you home to worsen your wounds, strike a hammer to the fragmented foundation that nurtured you. he didn’t take you home to make you doubt if your love can meet what his makes. he took you home for the final welcoming, the final piece of him and what he couldn’t wait to share with you

#seventeen scenarios #seventeen reactions #seventeen imagines #seventeen blurbs #joshua scenarios #jun scenarios #jihoon scenarios #minghao scenarios #seungkwan scenarios #hansol scenarios

[writingquestionsanswered]

I plan to write a story about heists, often from the point of view of the investigators' side, but I don't know where to start (or at least, my brain cannot make anything as interesting as I see in the media). Is there any advice on how I can plan it? Thank you very much!

Writing a Heist Story

A Worthwhile Score - The most important thing you need for a good heist story is a worthwhile score. What is the object/thing they're after and why is it important/valuable? How can everyone in the crew get a cut of this object/thing? What makes this thing valuable enough that it's so protected/hard to get in the first place?

Stakes - The second most important thing you have to establish is why the heist is taking place and why it matters. What does the heist crew stand to gain if they're successful, and/or what do they stand to lose if they're not? In Ocean's Eleven, Danny stood to win back his wife's affection while ruining the man who stole her from him. If he failed, not only did he not achieve either of those things, he also risked losing everything by going back to prison.

Sympathetic Motivation - If you want the reader to root for the heist crew, you need to make sure they have a sympathetic motivation--or at least one the reader wouldn't disapprove of. For example, in Ocean's Eleven, the heist motive is revenge against the guy who stole Danny's wife, so not the most sympathetic cause, but not a despicable one. And when we see that Benedict is a jerk who doesn't even treat Tess well, and that there's still something between Danny and Tess, we're able to root for him.

A Solid Crew - Another important element of good heist stories is a solid crew, meaning each member of the crew has to have a solid reason for being there. That means they need to play a vital role in the heist by providing a vital skill no one else can provide. They also need to have a believable motive for wanting to be part of the heist, especially if they're not being hired or rewarded with a large sum of money. And finally, it's nice to give each crew member a compelling personality, interesting characteristics, and unique relationships with other crew members.

A Complex Scheme - If your characters are trying to steal a piece of art from a museum, they can't roll up on the museum, break a window, knock out a guard, disable the alarm, obscure a camera, take the piece of art and off they go. That's too easy. Anyone could do that. There needs to be big, seemingly insurmountable obstacles that only the skills of the unique crew can overcome. Like, instead of breaking a window, one crew member's unique knowledge of the tunnels beneath the museum could get them in--but only if they can avoid detection from the night crews who work in the tunnels. And instead of knocking out a guard, there are several guards, and only the super stealthy wraith-like martial arts expert can do it without being caught.

A Backup Scheme - The one thing that's true about complex schemes is they almost always go awry. That said, you need to figure out what goes wrong, why, how it affects the original scheme, and how they re-route in the moment to get things back on track. Really good heist masterminds will have a Plan B and Plan C, but even these won't be without their kinks. All of these unforeseen pitfalls, unexpected obstacles, and potential failures keep the tension high and make things interesting. Watching the crew deal with things when they go off track is part of the fun of heist stories.

I hope that helps! ♥ •••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••

I’ve been writing seriously for over 30 years and love to share what I’ve learned. Have a writing question? My inbox is always open!

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[earth-ambassador-jim]

Time Has Passed Me By

AO3 ~ Fanfiction

Finally answering this fic request from @rosemaidenvixen . It's been hanging out in my WIPs almost finished for the past 3 years or so.

~~~~

~~~~

Awareness returned slowly: the sound of rushing water, faint flickering white light, the taste of minerals, the smell of damp earth, and the press of hard stone. He wasn’t sure how long he lay there, simply existing as part of his surroundings.

He grew restless and attempted to stand. His first attempt failed but he eventually struggled to his feet and stood there, weak kneed and uncertain. He was in a cavern. Water flowed over the grey stone beneath him and clear crystals hemmed him in from every side. Some of them glowed with a faint white light, most were grey and dead. He stared for a while before his attention turned to himself.

He… Draal… yes that was his name… Draal looked down at his hands and found the blue of his stone crisscrossed with clear white crystal that matched those surrounding him. It reminded him of something Nomura had shown him in her museum one time: a broken vase that humans had repaired with gold.

He looked at his other hand and found that the prosthetic was still there but spikes of white crystal where growing out of it. He tested it and found that it still moved.

Feeling a little more awake now Draal looked at his surroundings again. Where was he? Where was…

“Jim!”

He remembered then: being controlled by Gunmar and forced to fight his friends. Coming to Merlin’s cave and being freed from the spell. Jim finding him. The fight against Gunmar and Angor Rot. Sacrificing himself to save Jim. And finally falling as the poison swiftly claimed him.

Now he was properly awake. Draal wasn’t sure how he was still alive but he had to get out. The Trollhunter needed him.

Eventually Draal had been able to follow the flow of the water to an exit. Unfortunately the sun was still high in the sky so he was forced to wait until it set before he could continue.

Upon exiting the cave he found himself in an open area ringed about by dense forest. He frowned trying to remember what he could from his time under Gunmar’s control to get some idea of where he was. They’d taken a gyre so he was likely far from Arcadia. The question was how far?

Eventually he gave up and just followed the river. It would likely lead him to a human town and he could figure out where he was based on the language. He really wished he had taken Jim up on his offer of a cell phone.

He walked all night and halfway through the next day –keeping to the shadows of the forest- before he came upon a town. It was small. Humans bustled about going about their daily business. Draal crept closer, trying to hear what language they were speaking. It was just then that the couple he was watching turned their attention to the left and waved at someone approaching them.

Draal’s eyes widened with shock when he saw that the newcomer was a troll. They stood unaffected in the full light of the sun, wearing strange clothing, and struck up a conversation with the humans before them as if it was the most normal thing in the world.

The humans and the troll chatted for several minutes before going their separate ways, the humans into one of the buildings and the troll toward the forest. Draal quietly followed.

Was this strange troll an impure? That would explain its tolerance to sunlight.  Perhaps the whole village was changelings. In the time they’d been together Nomura had once joked that maybe changelings should just abandon both humans and trolls to form their own culture.

The maybe-changeling had now entered the forest. Draal followed patiently. It was best to wait until they were far enough from the village that they wouldn’t be heard.

The young troll it seemed was foraging for wild herbs. Every once and while he would stop and pull out his scissors to carefully take some plants.

Finally they were sufficiently far from the village.

Draal’s initial thought was to pounce on the troll from behind, pin him down and force the truth out of him, but something made him hesitate. He felt like the might be more to the situation. A puff of air left his nostrils as his lips quirked up slightly. It was Jim’s influence no doubt.

He moved to stand behind the troll.

“Greetings,” He said in trollish.

The troll let out a surprised yelp and spun around, mane fluffing up.

“Holy shit dude! Where did you come from?” He paused and looked Draal up and down before frowning. “Actually where did you come from? I haven’t seen you before and our town isn’t really a big tourist destination.”

Draal hesitated and then replied: “Arcadia.”

The troll blinked and his brows went up.

“Like Heartstone Troll Market Arcadia?”

Draal nodded.

“Lively!” He said, now looking interested. “Do you live in Trollmarket?”

Draal nodded again.

“Wow. I’ve always wanted to visit. I hear the Heartstone is wicked awesome. I’m Smleck, by the way. So what brings you to this neck of the woods?”

“What country is this?” Draal asked slowly.

He was a bit offput by the young troll’s strange way of talking. He talked more like Jim and his friends than any troll Draal knew.

“Oh this is France.”

It was going to be a long trip home it seemed.

“What where you doing talking to those humans?”

Smleck cocked his head in confusion.

“They’re my friends…?”

“But humans aren’t supposed to know about trolls,” Draal said irritably. He had the distinct feeling he was missing some important point.

“What are you talking about?”

They stared at each other for a long moment.

“Also how where you out in the sunlight?”

Have you been living under a rock?” Smleck asked incredulously.

“It seems so,” Draal said.

Smlech set down his basket and leaned up against a tree. He tapped his chin.

“Do you know what year it is?”

“By the human or troll standard?”

Smleck blinked slightly.

“Umm, let’s go with human.”

“2016,” Draal responded.

Smleck’s mouth fell open.

“What the heck. That’s… that’s… Have you been just living on your own all this time? Or did you get caught up in some time magic or something?”

Draal frowned.

“I was injured and just regained consciousness… Why?”

Smleck ran his hands through his mane and took a breath.

“Okay.. so don’t freak out but… You haven’t been out for a day or two… you’ve been out for over a millennia. It’s 3032 now.”

Draal froze and for a moment all he could hear was the roaring in his ears. His first thought was that the fight with Gunmar was probably over. Then he remembered that Smleck had mentioned Heartstone Trollmarket, so they must have won.

His next thought was to ask Smleck if the Trollhunter had survived, but then he remembered that humans rarely ever lived over a century. So whether Jim survived the war against Gunmar or not he was…

Then it occurred to him that after a millennia had past then most of even the trolls he knew would be gone now. He was well and truly alone then.

“Is there a gyre near here?” He asked. “I would like to return to Arcadia.”

Smleck was giving him a pitying look that made Draal want to punch him but he refrained.

“I can do you one better actually.”

~~~~

“One better” Turned out to be a portal. Not one of dark magic like Claire used but a vortex of glowing blue energy created from what Smleck told him was Akiridian technology. Apparently all he had to do was have the station master set his destination and he would just have to walk through the portal and he’d be in Arcadia.

He was a little wary of the device but it turned out to be painless. A welcome change from the nausea inducing gyre.

Draal readjusted his bracelet as he exited the station. On their way there Smleck had dragged him over to the local hospital to get it. Apparently it was a “UV” blocker. All trolls wore them now. It allowed them to safely walk under the sun. Draal shook his head. It was truly a strange world.

Trolls and humans walked the streets that were once familiar to Draal and other stranger creatures besides. Following his instincts more than his eyes he made his way to Trollmarket.

~~~~

Heartstone Trollmarket was the strangest part of this future world to him. The changes to the outside world where somehow less jarring. A myrid of beings, some familiar, some the likes of which he had never seen before, walked side by side on its streets and argued over wares in the stalls.

Still despite the strangeness there was familiarity to the paths he’d spent so long walking and he found his feet taking him to an opening in the stone over which hung a glowing sign shaped like the Sword of Daylight. He stood for a moment wondering at the lack of change but then passed under it and through the tunnel into hero’s forge.

The outside world may have changed but the forge was as he remembered. Automatically he eyes searched the forms of the past Trollhunters to find his father. Kanjigar still stood where he had last seen him. Draal pressed his fist to his chest and bowed his head for a moment.

He then started to look around for another form. Jim should have a statue somewhere around here. He knew that humans did not turn to stone like trolls when they fell but the tradition was too strong for him to have left unremembered so Draal expected to find a statue carved in the likeness of Jim. He was curious what sort of a man the boy he knew had become.

There were no new statues to be seen.

A frown traced his lips. If trollkind had failed to honor Jim just because he was human…

It was just then that he heard steps sounding in the entrance. Draal quickly moved into an alcove out of sight.

A troll wearing some sort of human uniform walked into the forge. He walked on two legs and was lean and lanky in proportion. A mane hung thick all around his face and neck like Aaarrrgghh’s but blue-black in color. He had a long leonine tail and three-pronged curving horns. His eyes and nose where strangely human.

The troll looked around for a moment and then pressed his hand to his chest. With a flash of blue armor materialized around him. Draal stilled. So this was the new Trollhunter.

He wandered over to the edge of the forge and pressed the bottom to set off the blades and platforms. His movements where quick and graceful and he danced around the traps with casual ease, going through strikes and parries as if he was battling some imaginary foe.

A smirk curled across Draal’s lips. He couldn’t leave the new Trollhunter to practice on his own. He grabbed an ax from the weapons pile beside him, waited until the troll came a little closer and then rolled up and shot out from his hiding place.

The Trollhunter had his back to Draal when he uncurled and brought his ax down on him but his ears twitched back and Daylight came up to redirect the blow so the troll could move out from under it. Draal was rather pleased.

The troll put some space between himself and Draal before actually looking at him. When he did, he went dead still, eyes widening.

“Draal?” He breathed out.

Draal blinked, caught off guard by the familiarity in the voice of this troll that he’d never met before.

“Impossible,” The troll muttered to himself. “It can’t be…”

Something about this rubbed Draal the wrong way. He let out a growl and lunged forward putting the strange troll on the defensive.

“Don’t drop your guard Trollhunter,” He rumbled narrowing his eyes. “How do you know me?”

The troll was still staring at him but not yet fighting back, only blocking.

“Know?” He blinked at Draal.

His mouth formed and “o” and his eyes widened.

The two jumped apart as an ax fell between them.

“I forgot that you weren’t there,” He said. “You know me Draal. It’s me: Jim.”

At that anger coursed through Draal. How dare this troll take him as a fool? How dare he pretend to be Draal’s friend?

With a roar Draal lunged forward.

“Don’t you dare pretend to be Jim,” Draal snarled, now attacking in earnest. “He was twice the Trollhunter you are.”

Draal may not know this Trollhunter but Jim would have never pretended to be a fallen warrior to fool their friend.

The new Trollhunter back pedaled but finally started counter attacking. They ranged across the forge vaulting off platforms and dodging blades. The troll looked like he wanted to answer Draal’s accusation but at the speed they were moving there was no room for talk.

It was bad timing that got him in the end.

Draal was just bringing his ax down on his opponent when a blade came out of the wall and launched him across the forge over the edge of the cliff. He managed to grab the edge but was left dangling over the deep. The new Trollhunter appeared above him. He stared down at Draal with his sword raised…

And then with a chuckle he drove it into the stone beside him.

“Come on,” He said holding out a hand. “Don’t make it weird.”

The breath seemed to leave Draal’s lungs as he stared into familiar blue eyes.

“Jim?” He whispered. “But how?”

“I think we both have a bit of explaining to do but this would be a better conversation to have on solid ground,” The Trollhunter… Jim said pointedly.

Draal took his hand and was pulled to safety.

The forge was still active around them, so Jim detached a glaive from his hip and threw it across the room striking the off button with easy precision. The center platform dropped back to the floor and the blades vanished into their alcoves.

Jim sat down on the edge of the forge, feet hanging into the abyss and patted the ground beside him. Draal sat. For a moment they stared into the depths in silence.

“So you really are Draal right?” There was a quiet waver in the troll’s voice.

Draal nodded.

“How are you alive?” He asked. “Angor stabbed you through the heart. I saw you fall. There’s no way you didn’t shatter.”

“I don’t know,” Draal said.

He showed the other troll his hand with the veins of clear crystal running through the deep cracks in his stone.

“I think that I did. I don’t know how I survived but perhaps the magic of Merlin’s Cavern put me back together.”

He side-eyed Jim.

“What about you? How did you become…” He waved a hand at Jim’s body. “This?”

Jim chuckled.

“A half-troll you mean?”

Draal blinked at that.

“Half?”

“Indeed,” Jim said. His eyes turned back to the cavern before him, but his gaze was much farther away. “After you… fell. We lost the staff to Gunmar, but… deeper in the cave we found something else… someone else: Merlin.”

“Merlin?!”

Jim nodded.

“He was in some sort of enchanted sleep and we woke him. A… a lot happened after that,” Jim frowned. “Gunmar used the staff to free Morgana from her prison so she could bring the Eternal Night… and,” He sighed. “Merlin and I talked. He didn’t think I was strong enough to take on Morgana… let alone her and Gunmar and Angor Rot. So he made me an offer: A potion that would change me.”

“Into a… half-troll?”

Jim nodded.

“Yes,” He said. “It was an adjustment. In the end we defeated Gunmar and Morgana. Angor actually helped us.” He added quietly. There was regret in his gaze. “He died a hero.”

There was a moment of silence between them. Draal studied Jim’s face as the boy… no man… stared off into the distance, dark brows low and pensive. There were scars crossing his face that the troll didn’t know. He wondered what battles he’d fought… what other comrades he’d lost.

Then Jim drew in a breath and let it out slowly. His shoulders relaxed. He gathered his legs under himself and stood. Draal also stood.

They stared at each other for a long moment.

“You’re a lot smaller than I remember,” Jim said finally.

Draal let out a surprised and offended snort at that but before he could respond Jim moved forward and wrapped his arms around him. Draal blinked in surprise and then reciprocated.

“It’s funny.” Jim said softly. “I knew you for a fairly short amount of time but it was such an important time to me. You taught me how to fight….” He trailed off for a moment. “Back in the cave I said you were a friend to me… and you are but in the centuries since…”

He hesitated again and pulled back to look Draal in the eyes.

“Well… I don’t know how you see me,” He finally continued. “But I’ve always thought of you as my brother.”

“Oh,” Draal said, surprised.

He blinked and then rubbed absently at his prosthetic. It was a bit of a strange thought. He hadn’t thought of it before.

He remembered when he first met Jim. And then their fight. –It was shameful in hindsight. Especially seeing the man he’d become. Jim had been a mere whelp who had just picked up the sword. - Despite that Jim had accepted him into his life. The way he had come to respect Jim. Training him. Fighting alongside him. Talking about small and silly things with him.

Something settled in his chest.

“Trollhunter… Jim.”

Jim looked up at him.

“I would be honored to consider you my brother.”

Jim’s face lit up in a wide toothy smile. Draal huffed in amusement. He tilted his horns forward and Jim also bent his head. The Rested their horns together for a moment.

It was good, Draal thought. It was good to have family again.

They drew apart.

Draal eyed Jim for a moment and then dropped to all fours abruptly.

“So, Trollhunter, I hear it’s been over a thousand years. Why don’t you show me what you’ve learned?”

Jim blinked and then a fierce and toothy smile lit up his face. His tail lasted in excitement. Draal couldn’t help but to think that being a troll suited him. In a flash he was armored again with Daylight in his hands.

“With pleasure.”

#Trollhunters #Tales of Arcadia #Draal #Jim Lake Jr #James Lake Jr #Troll Jim #Earth Ambassador Jim AU #Future AU #my writing #trollhunters fanfiction #tales of arcadia fanfiction #Let Jim and Draal be brothers! #This AU politely ignores Wizards and Rise of the Titans

[pomplalamoose]

i love your works so much 😭 is it ok if I request some hc’s of your dilf!luke being jealous 🫶🫶

A thousand times yes, anon! It's more than absolutely okay, I actually giggled when I saw your request bejfjjedige thank you so much for your ask and your kind, supportive words😭🫶🏻

(I apologize in advance for any spelling errors or grammar mistakes I might've made! I'm posting this in a hurry but will be going over all of it again later <3)

• because of Dilf!Luke's authoritative streak and the tendency to be quiet possessive, I definitely see him as as someone who gets jealous easily

• he's not proud of it though, maybe even ashamed, and thus tries to keep it hidden as one of the aspects he doesn't like about himself

• furthermore he's aware his behavior led to more than just a few arguments with his former lovers, so, when he first decided he wanted a relationship with you, he knew he needed to better himself

• much easier said than done though

• naturally he can't change over night, can't abruptly stop what so easily rises to the surface

• since modern day Dilf!Luke was never subjected to Obi-Wan's and Yoda's teachings, he kept some mannerisms and ways that would've otherwise changed and while he's still, above all things, a kind-hearted, caring and gentle man, his impatience and quick-temper often tend to get the better of him

• not as well balanced he's impulsive and stubborn, either acting and speaking on his feelings before thinking about the consequences, or not at all

• especially because everything you are, everything about you, has him struggling to keep his emotions under proper control

• he can't believe it himself, how hard he fell for you, never would've expected to be swept off his feet like that and is now absolutely overwhelmed with all of what is going on inside of him

• still you deserve a trusting and loving partner and he's set on being that for you no matter how difficult it is for him to keep his temper in check

• athough it definitely took him a while to arrive at this conclusion, he now understands that it's mostly his own insecurities he gets upset about when he sees you with someone else

• I really believe he learned from the mistakes he made in the past and, going forward, does his best to deal with his jealousy on his own

• while I don't think he'd go as far as to actually open up about his feelings fully, he'd put a lot of effort into looking up the topic to better understand himself

• only if it gets especially bad he might gather all of his courage to initiate a conversation about it but rarely/never in a way that's accusing you of anything

• he knows better than that

• possibly you won't even notice he's being jealous with how elegantly he handles certain situations anyways

• though you can be sure none of those coming face to face with him have anything to laugh about

• while most of the time he successfully manages to keep himself under control, respectfully letting you decide how to handle an admirer yourself, he can't always help it

• staying very much true to the motto "what my partner doesn't know, won't upset them", Luke never fails to remain ostensibly polite while absolutely dishing out behind your back if he sees fit

• he knows how intimidating he can be and makes good use of it too

• not that he needs to fall back on any of his harsher methods often, most of the time just a single look of his is enough to make the person in question retreat

• this usually happens when you're out and about and, most importantly, without your knowledge

• why upset you unnecessarily?

• maybe you're going for a nice walk or out on a date, maybe you're visiting a museum or a pretty café

• or maybe it's during grocery shopping that someone catches Luke's attention because of the way they're eyeing you from afar

• (unknown to you this happens pretty often and he doesn't really mind someone taking a quick glance)

• (you're beautiful and he can't fault anyone for noticing)

• (plus it makes him super proud he's the one you chose to be with)

• (nevertheless he won't tolerate people leering at you openly, it drives him crazy, HE'S the only one allowed to look at you like that)

• no matter the circumstances and how much is blood is boiling, he will make sure you're properly distracted before taking care of it though

• "will you go ahead and order for us, sweetheart?"

• "oh what's that? did your favorite author publish a new book? I haven't seen this one yet"

• "what would you like for dinner tomorrow? Do you think those tomatoes look good enough?"

• "try that on for me, please, I'm sure you'll look stunning"

• then, as soon as your focus is elsewhere he'll abruptly turn around, sternly glaring at whoever is lingering about, a silent challenge in his eyes like he's daring them to make a move

• most falter immediately

• those who don't are quick to leave as soon as he addresses them head on

• "can I help you?"

• "is there anything you need my assistance for?"

• no one ever fails to hear the gentle warning behind his words

• rarely the both of you find yourself in a situation where Luke actually sees it fit to include you in his endeavors since he thinks it's not a very gentleman-like thing to do

• so when he does resort to it it's always in a subtle way that doesn't immediately make you question his behavior

• a hand on your back, his arm around your waist, whispering in your ear

• it's easy, really, to send an obvious signal to bystanders and to some extend he even finds himself enjoying it

• the only thing that really makes him feel as if he's about to burst is if someone starts talking to you with intent, deliberately making an effort to ignore his presence

• he trusts you to handle it well, you do so better than he ever could

• but the blatant disrespect from the person in front of you has him fuming

• if looks could kill, there'd be dead body right in front of you rather quickly

• it takes him quite a while to cool off after too, during which he goes very silent, possibly not even speaking to you

• though he'll apologize to you for his behavior later once he's trusting himself to think straight again

#ask #luke skywalker #luke skywalker x reader #luke skywalker x you #luke star wars #luke skywalker fanfiction #dilf luke #dilf luke skywalker #star wars au #star wars fanfiction #star wars #star wars a new hope #star wars empire strikes back #star wars return of the jedi #fanfic #luke headcanons #star wars headcanons

[mxnsxngie]

A Piece Of My heART (H.H)

Warnings: none! Pure, tooth-rotting fluff!

Word Count: 3261 (holy crap, I didn't intend for it to be this long but oh well!)

Let Me Know What You Think!

“We totally need to get together sometime soon, I miss you so much!” your friend Aly says over the phone.

You chuckle as walk up to the door to your friends’ dorm room, knocking on the door.

“I miss you too! Is there anytime you’re available soon?” You ask her as the dorm door opens. You’re met by a smiling Jisung on the other side as he dramatically bows, gesturing you in. You laugh at his antics, whispering to him “Hey Jisung” as you walk in.

“Yeah I’m free next week! And did you just say Jisung?!” Your friend asks and you can’t help but chuckle.

“Oh awesome! And yeah I did, I’m over to visit Jinnie for a movie night. Why do you ask though?” You ask, already knowing her answer.

“Because he is so fine. I swear I would risk it all for him. You gotta set us up girl!” She says and you laugh.

“Aly you kill me” you tell her laughing as you notice a slight blush appearing on Jisung’s cheeks at the mention of your friends’ name.

“First of all, offensive. Second of all, can you blame me?!” She says over the phone.

“No I can’t. I suppose I’ll see what I can do” you tell her as you slip your shoes off. “So what are you thinking for next week?” You ask as you sit down on the couch in the living room, Jisung joining you.

You fail to notice Hyunjin starting to walk into the living room behind you due to the phone call. He smiles seeing you, excited to finally get to hang out with you again.

“How about sushi and the art museum? We haven’t been in ages” your friend suggests.

“Oooo! Sushi and the art museum? Now you’re speaking my love language! I mean, throw in coffee and a bookstore visit and I’m putty in your hands” you joke with her.

Hyunjin’s ears perk up at this. He knew you enjoyed those things as well, it’s part of why you two got along so well. But enjoying them so much that you considered it part of your love language? He didn’t realize just how much you loved the things that meant so much to him as well. He swears in that moment the crush he’s been harboring on you for a while now deepened and he knew he needed to figure out a way to ask you out.

He walks around the couch to sit by you as you finish up your phone call and begin to talk to Jisung. He smiles as you subconsciously lean against him while talking, putting his arm on the couch behind you.

“How’s Aly doing?” Jisung blushes slightly, asking you about your friend.

“She’s good! She was asking about you!” You tell him, watching his blush deepen slightly.

“She was? That’s nice! I’d love to hang out with her again sometime” he tells you, getting flustered.

“She’d love that! I’ll have to let her know!” You smile before turning to look at Hyunjin, still leaning on him. “Hi there” you say, smiling up at him.

“Hi there” he smiles, moving his arm to rest around your shoulders instead.

“And that’s my queue, catch you guys later!” Jisung says, leaving you two alone, causing you to look at him slightly confused.

“What’s with him?” You laugh, looking back to Hyunjin.

“It’s Jisung, many things are up with him” he says laughing, knowing full well that Jisung was aware of his feelings for you and always insisted that you liked him as well.

Hyunjin just had a hard time believing him, especially with being so guarded when it came to love despite being such a romantic. But he couldn’t keep his feelings to himself anymore, you were worth the risk. You two had such a strong connection and you understood him and his views better than anyone. If he was going to make that jump with anyone, it made sense it would be you. His best friend, and, as he’d recently began to realize, his possible soulmate.

“You know what, that’s fair” you laugh as you get a little more comfortable. “So movie night?” You ask him, smiling.

“Of course! But! Not without snacks” he smiles, standing and holding his hand out to help you up so you can help him in the kitchen.

“Oh obviously” you say with a giggle as you take his hand as he helps you up, leading you to the kitchen. “Popcorn and candy?” You ask him as you starting getting a bowl out.

“Whatever you want” he smiles at you, reaching for a bag of popcorn and putting it in the microwave.

“Whatever I want huh? That’s a lot of power in my hands” You joke as you sit on the counter with the bowl, swinging your legs.

“Well you deserve the best. Just don’t abuse the power” he says, watching you with a teasing smirk.

“I can’t make any promises there” you tease with a matching smirk. Watching you sitting there, tucking your hair behind you ear smiling at him like he’s the only person in the world, he has an idea for how to ask you out.

While he’s getting your favorite candy he keep a stash of out of the cabinets, he takes out his phone and places an order online quickly before putting it back away so he can focus on you.

He gets the popcorn out and moves to stand between your legs, pouring the popcorn into the bowl in your hands. He looks up as he finishes pouring it, meeting your eyes that are already looking at his face. It takes everything in him not to reach out and cup your beautiful face like he wants to. “Ready?” He asks quietly, not wanting to break the moment.

“Yeah, I’m ready” you whisper back, flushing a little. You’d gotten so distracted watching him that he startled you when he looked up, catching you. You couldn’t help it really, his tall, lean frame, long blonde hair, his gorgeous hands, and of course his perfectly beautiful face.

You’d fallen for him very quickly after you met, the both of you having much in common when it came to interests and how you viewed the world around you. You both had found it refreshing to find someone who viewed it the same way and clicked instantly, as though you’d known each other all your life and were meant I find each other.

You desperately wanted more than this friendship you had with him. You wanted to be able to cuddle him, kiss him, hold his hand, and just love him as he deserved. But, you knew how he was when it came to love, and you knew that if anything was going to happen between you two, it had to be his decision. Still, a part of you couldn’t help but wish that he could someone understand all of your feelings for him as he held your gaze. You swear you saw a hint of love and longing in his eyes, but it was fine before you could be sure.

“Lets go then” he says, carefully helping you down and guiding you back to the couch, keeping his hand on your lower back the whole time. His touch warmed you and It took all your strength not to shiver at it.

He sets everything down and sits, getting comfortable and queues up the movie as you sit beside him, leaning against his side. He reaches for a blanket and covers you both with it before placing his arm behind you. You can’t help but flush a little, but discreetly lean into him more.

The movie wraps up a little while later, the both of you laughing and making comments along the way. And of course you noticed how he kept watching you the whole time. Every time you’d turn to say something to him, you’d find him already looking at you.

“That was a really good movie!” You tell him, looking up at him from where your head rests on his shoulder.

“It was! And this was nice, I’ve missed this” he tells you, glancing down at you.

“I have too” You blush a little, looking down slightly to try to hide it from him.

He reaches over with his free hand to tuck a piece of your hair behind your ear, causing you to look up at him. “Can I talk to you about something?” He asks you quietly.

“Of course, you always can Jinnie, you know that” you tell him as you look up at him, taking his hand.

He sighs lightly as he nods, gathering his thoughts.

“I know. This is just, a little bit of uncharted territory for me. But I’ve been thinking a lot lately. About, us.” He tells you, never taking his eyes off yours.

“Us?” You ask, feeling a little nervous.

“Yeah, us. You, you mean a lot to me, and I’ve been thinking recently just how much you do. I haven’t met anyone who understands me the way that you do, and I feel truly seen when I’m with you. What I’m trying to say is-“ he cuts himself off as there’s a knock at the door.

You look at the door then back to him in confusion. He chuckles at you before saying “just on time. I think this will help clear things up. Can you get that?” He asks you.

“Uhhh yeah, sure” you say, still confused where he’s going with this and why whatever is at the door is pertinent to his point. But you get up nonetheless and move to the door.

You open it and find no one standing there, but instead, a bouquet of beautiful flowers. Sunflowers mixed with roses and alstroemerias to be exact, your favorites. Because of course Hyunjin would remember that.

You chuckle with a small smile as you reach to grab them, noticing a small note attached as you shut the door. You grab the card to see what it says. The small card reads “Roses are red, violets are blue, can we go on a date, because I really love you”.

You were so distracted by the flowers and card, that you hadn’t heard Hyunjin stand up or walk over, so you jump slightly as you feel him put his arms around you from behind, engulfing you in a back hug, pulling you close to him. You relax into him, turning to look at him where his head rests on your shoulder.

“You love me?” You ask, heart soaring at the hope that he may actually love you as much as you have loved him all this time.

“Yeah,” he smiles, looking down at you. “I do love you. And I’d really like to take you out, as your boyfriend. What do you say?” He asks quietly, not taking his eyes off of yours.

You smile harder than you ever have before, reaching up to play with his hair as he holds you in his arms “I say it’s a date” you tell him before kissing his cheek.

As promised, Hyunjin picks you up the next morning for your date. He refused to tell you where all he was taking you, only promising that you would love what he had planned for the two of you. You don’t fail to notice his camera bag in the backseat, so you know whatever he has planned will be good if he brought it with him.

You talk and laugh the whole drive, and you can’t help but smile when he parks the car, realizing where he’s brought you.

“Sake?!” You ask turning to him excitedly, realizing he’s brought you to your favorite sushi restaurant.

“Sure is! Figured we’d get some food to fuel us before the rest of the day and I know it’s your favorite” he says, smiling back at you.

“You know me so well” you gasp lightly, putting one hand over your heart dramatically.

Hyunjin laughs at your antics, knowing he’d do the same. Just another reason he loves you.

“I do, how weird!” He gasps back, playing along with you. “Now come on, I’m starving” he says, getting out of the car and coming around to help you out.

After eating your fill of sushi, you get back into the car and he starts driving to another location.

“Where are we going now?” You ask in excitement, giving puppy eyes in hopes he’ll spill the secret.

“I can’t tell you, it’s a surprise! But we’re almost there!” He says laughing as he sees you pout from the corner of his eye. “And that’s not working on me this time” he says.

“It usually does” you quietly mutter to yourself. He laughs hearing you but chooses to let it go for now.

A couple minutes later, you start to recognize the area and you gasp in excitement as you start pulling up to a familiar building.

“The art museum?!” You ask, pure joy on your face as he parks and looks at you.

“No the zoo!” He laughs “yes the art museum you goof!” He jokes, messing your hair up as he ruffles it lightly.

“I haven’t been in so long!” You say bouncing in excitement as you realize something. “Oh my god, you totally overheard my conversation with Aly didn’t you?” You say, realizing he’s taking you to the places you mentioned on the phone with your friend.

“Guilty” he laughs as he gets out of the car, coming to help you out and then grab his camera bag. “To be fair though, you know I love all of those things as well and it felt like too perfect of an opportunity to miss out on” he says as he takes his camera out and loops it over his neck before taking your hand, leading you to the museum.

“Okay I can’t blame you there” you giggle as you lean into him while holding his hand.

Once you guys pay and get your maps, you set off downstairs together to start with the older art first. You slowly move from gallery to gallery together, pausing to talk about some of the pieces.

Every so often, on the couple of times you happen to wander slightly ahead of him to look at a piece, you hear the the soft click of his camera. You can’t help but smile to yourself, knowing he’s sneaking pictures of you admiring the art.

Once you’ve finished walking through the first floor together, you move up to the second. As you’re walking ahead of him up the stairs, you hear another click of his camera. You laugh and turn to him, a look of slight confusion on your face.

“I’m just walking up the stairs?” You say questioningly to him.

“Yeah, but look at this” he says, a soft smile on his face as he pulls up the picture on the screen to show you. You can’t help back let out a tiny gasp as you see it. The lighting and angle of the picture he’s taken of you is breathtaking, he’s managed to make it seem like you’re floating up the stairs.

“Oh that’s stunning” you say, looking back at him.

“No, you’re stunning. The picture wouldn’t be as good if you weren’t” he says, taking your hand and leading you into the next gallery. He sees the deep blush on your face but chooses not to mention it.

As you’re walking through the second floor, you still occasionally hear his camera go off as he snaps pictures of some of the pieces in the galleries and of you. While you’re looking at one piece, you can help but giggle as Hyunjin comes shuffling over, excitement clear on his face.

“Come with me, I have to show you something!” He says, taking your hand and pulling you with him to a piece just ahead.

“Okay okay!” You giggle as you both come to a stop. “Oh wow, this is beautiful” you say as you look at the piece he’s brought you to with him, resting your head on his shoulder. The piece is a Claude Monet, a beautiful landscape painting called “Water Lillies”.

“It is, I know you love paintings like this too and I just had to show you” he says, blushing a little over how excitable he got.

“Thank you, it’s beautiful” you whisper, looking up at him softly. He looks down and he’s taken aback at how beautiful you look, love and adoration in your eyes as you look at him. He reaches up, gently cupping your face as he looks at you.

“Can I kiss you?” He whispers, rubbing his thumb along your cheek.

“Yes” you whisper back as he leans down, gently connecting your lips with his. You reach your free hand to tangle in the hair at the nape of his neck, just holding him as he gently kisses you. You hum into the kiss, feeling the love for you that he’s putting into it. Shortly after you break apart, still close to each other.

“I love you Hyunjin” you whisper, moving a stray blonde lock out of his face.

“I love you too. You’ve stole my heart” he smiles at you as he starts leading you through the rest of the gallery.

“Oh well I’ll be rich, that’s pretty valuable you know?” You joke, causing him to roll his eyes at your antics.

“As long as you don’t lose it” he tells you as you walk out of the museum together.

“Hmmm I think I can do that” you say as you reach up to kiss his cheek. “Soooo coffee and the bookstore?” You ask as you both get back into his car, knowing those were the other things you had mentioned you love on the phone to your friend.

“Hmmmm I suppose we can, but on one condition” he says, looking over at you.

“What’s that? More kisses? “ you say laughing.

He rolls his eyes at you before responding. “Okay, two conditions. One, yes more kisses. But two, our next date has to be a double date with Jisung and Aly. I think I’ll go crazy if I have to keep hearing him talk about how much he wants to go out with her but that he’s too nervous to ask her” he says, a tone of mock exaggeration in his voice as he starts the car. “If you can do that I’ll buy you all the coffee and books you want today” he says.

“Oh deal, Aly is always asking about him and wants to go out with him so that’ll be perfect. And I get books and coffee for that? Win win for me! You do realize I would’ve said yes to another date with my boyfriend without you setting it as a condition though right?” you laugh at him.

“Oh well in that case, we can just go home then, no need to go to the bookstore if you’ll go out with me again anyway” he says with a smirk.

“No no no! We totally do! You’re so smart for thinking to ask me on another date and for more kisses that way babe! I love you!” You say quickly, knowing he likely wouldn’t turn around, but not willing to take your chances. With Hyunjin you could never be too sure.

“I love you too, you little heart stealer” he says, smiling at you fondly. He had definitely found his soulmate.

Tag List: @yxngbxkkie @channiechxn @alyszaen @l3visbby

If you want to be tagged in the future let me know! My chat and inbox are always open so feel free to come talk to me anytime!

#hwang hyunjin #hyunjin #hyunjin stray kids #hwang hyunjin fluff #hyunjin fluff #hwang hyunjin x reader #stray kids #stray kids fluff #stray kids x reader #hwang hyunjin x y/n #hyunjin x y/n #stray kids x y/n #hwang hyunjin x you #stray kids x you #hyunjin moodboard #hwang hyunjin imagine #hwang hyunjin imagines #hwang hyuunjin moodboard #hyunjin friends to lovers #hwang hyunjin fic #hwang hyunjin fanfic #hwang hyunjin fanfiction #hwang hyunjin friends to lovers #hyunjin moodboards #hyunjin fanfic #hyunjin fanfiction #hyunjin fic

[iamthecomet]

I‘ve had a terrible day and literally nobody I could contact so I’m honestly super Sorry for coming here but I just felt like going to the ask box of someone in the ghost fandom would be my safest bet

(There were just literally more childhood things triggered today than I even know fucking EXISTED and I had two attacks that were lots of fun /s)

Could I maybe get a bit of ghoulette comfort? Any pairing of your choice, and I’m very okay with comfort sex

Again, I’m very sorry if this is weird or overstepping any boundaries, or if you don’t take requests, I just really really felt the need to contact someone

Please don't be sorry for coming to my ask box--you're welcome here any time, really. I'm sending you lots of good vibes and hugs (if you want them). I'm sorry you're having such a shitty day. I don't know if what I wrote can really be considered comfort. But I tried and then everything got away from me (imagine that). It's a little angsty, a little smutty, and a little sweet. I hope it helps. 1.8k of ghoulette "comfort"--just for you, under the cut <3.

Sunshine keeps it together as best she can. It's for the best, she knows that. Knows that if she tried to go up on stage every night of this tour with her still healing knee (twisted, badly on a run through the woods with Mountain) she'd damage her vessel irreparably. Knows, that the way it still aches late at night is a sign that she wasn't ready. But it's hard. Hard to video chat with Cirrus, Cumulus, and Aurora and not wish she was on those plush looking hotel beds with them. Squished between them. Aurora's silky hair slipping through her fingers, Cumulus' heart beating under her ear. She misses them with every part of her body. Something she didn't realize was possible until they were gone. She'd never felt this in the pit. This connection, this love that seems to have dissolved into her blood. Her pack. Her girls. They're everything. The Abbey is so empty without them. Aether's here--and the other ghouls--the older ones. But they largely keep to themselves. And having Aether isn't the same as having everyone. And besides--he's distracted. More shifts in the infirmary. More time spent talking to Imperator. She thinks he's keeping himself busy on purpose. So that he doesn't have to feel what she does--an ache where her family used to be. And it isn't like they're not coming back. Not like she doesn't talk to them every day. Dew and Swiss are constantly sending her pictures of stupid shit from the road. Bad license plates. Strange tchotchkes in various gift shops. Rain sends her pictures from museums, historical sights, and gorgeous sweeping architecture. Mountain sends her pictures of flowers, and trees, and every animal he can. Cumulus and Cirrus talk to her on video every single day without fail. They are thinking of her. They are out there. They are coming home. But in the silent moments it's hard to remember that. The ghoul wing echoes like a tomb on some days and Sunshine feels like the caretaker. If purgatory is real, she's found it. It's late, several weeks into the tour. She hung up with the girls hours ago, and since she's been staring at the tin ceiling. Tracing the patterns in it. Stamped scrollwork, vines, flowers, a sunburst in the center of each one like this room was made for her. It's about the time of night that she'd usually crawl into bed with Aether. But she can hear him still on the phone with Dewdrop. A low murmur drifting through the walls. Her room feels too small. Like the walls are closing in around her. Too warm, stuffy. She thinks about throwing open a window but that isn't going to help. She wants the sky stretched out above her. Grass beneath her bare toes. She wants to be thousands of miles away from here, curled up in scratchy hotel sheets with Cirrus in her arms.

She stands at the window, looking out at the way the moonlight slants across the grounds, the way it glitters off of the lake. The moon is full, and it's the only reason she sees her. Pale skin luminous under that light. Mist.

Sunshine doesn’t make a decision. She lets the way her heart starts hammering do that for her. She foregoes shoes, or pants. She steps out into the hallway and head toward the door in just a button-down shirt she stole from Swiss ages ago, and her underwear. The grass is cool and wet against her toes. Mowed recently judging by the way the clippings stick to the sides of her feet. She walks into the Abbey grounds. Toward Mountain's favorite garden, and the lake just beyond it.

Sunshine and Mist aren’t particularly close. Mist doesn’t seem to be close with any of the newer band ghouls except for Dew. She keeps to herself mostly. But she and Sunshine have shared moments. In a cramped closet or Sunshine’s bed. Frenzied and quick. Mists teeth sharp on her lip. Her mouth tasting like clean cool water.

Sunshine feels like she’s dying of thirst. Mist is on the very edge of the dock. Her legs drawn up tight, toes curled over the edge of it. Pointed chin resting on her knees. Sunshine stops halfway through Mountain's flowerbeds and looks at her. The way her tail curls, serpentine, around her own arm. The strange blue tinge to her hair--her skin. Long fingers curled around her shin bones as she hugs herself. She’s so compact. Smaller even than Aurora. Slight but not fragile. Built of wire swimmers muscle. Sunshine once watched her throw Ifrit into the dirt.

She makes it a point to stay on Mists good side—for more than one reason. "Are you coming down, or are you just going to stare?" Mist calls out. She doesn't move. There's a musical lilt to her voice that always reminds Sunshine of Rain. Siren song. Inviting her closer even though her tone is cold, flat. Sunshine forces her legs into motion, ignoring the way her knee twinges when she steps wrong as the ground beneath her starts its descent toward the lake.

“I wasn’t—” she starts when she gets closer, but the words die as her feet hit the dock. She was. She was just standing there staring. Sunshine watches her more often than she’d like to admit. It seems easier than talking to her. Easier than asking for what she wants. It worked out the first time Mist backed her into a dark corner—and every time since.

She wants that again—doesn’t want to have to talk about the reason she’s out here in the middle of the night seeking Mist out. It sounds bad when she thinks about it.

Everyone else is gone. So, I came to you. Sunshine sits on the dock next to Mist, dangles her legs over the edge and finds the lake surprisingly warm. She leans back on her hands and looks at Mist again. Looks at the savage ridge of her spine where it sticks out from the low collar of her tank top. The shirt is loose, the armholes reaching almost to Mists hips, exposing the aqua tinged gills along her ribs. Borrowed clothing, Sunshine realizes, just like her own shirt.

“You like to stare.” Mist says, matter-of-fact. Sunshine winces.

“Sorry.”

“I don’t mind.” Mist offers with a shrug. She looks over at Sunshine then, for the first time. “It sort of feels nice to be seen.”

“I see you,” Sunshine whispers, “A lot. I—always see you. Why don’t you—”

Mist shakes her head. “You didn’t come out here to ask me stupid questions.”

“No. I didn’t.”

Mist slowly unwraps her arms from her legs. Lets them slip off of the dock and into the water. She sighs. “Bath water,” she says mostly to herself.

It isn’t the word Sunshine would use. Closer to lukewarm—body temperature. But she imagines Mist runs cold the same way Rain does. And it must feel warm soothing to her cool skin.

“So why are you out here? Isn’t it past your bed time?”

Sunshine bristles at that. At the way it feels infantilizing. She decides to ignore it. Knows Mist doesn't actually mean anything by it. “Couldn’t sleep. I’m…lonely. I guess.”

“What about Aether?”

“Not the same.”

Mist hums in what sounds like agreement. “No, I guess you’re right.”

They fall into silence, it’s surprisingly comfortable. Easy. Sunshine lays back, puts her arms behind her head. For a while she looks at the stars. Allows the gentle shift of the water around her ankles to lull her, to calm the strange ache in her chest. But after a while, she finds her eyes drawn back to Mist. To the soft curve of her breast, the slope of her stomach, all that skin visible through the side of her shirt.  The way her gills shift as she breathes. The ones on her hips are just barely visible, and Sunshine is hit with the nearly uncontrollable desire to touch them. To reach over and run feather light fingers over that delicate skin and remember what it feels like.

“I get lonely too, sometimes,” Mist muses. When Sunshine drags her eyes away from the shadow of Mist’s nipple she finds the water Ghoulette looking down at her. Sharp features drawn soft. Full lips down turned just a little, more of a pout than a frown. “It’s the way it is. You should get used to it.”

“It doesn’t have to be,” Sunshine whispers, breath catching in her lungs. “I’m right here. I’m always right here.” She props herself up at the same time Mist bends. They meet in the middle, lips slotting together. It’s gentle—she’s never kissed Mist like this. This easy press of their mouths. Their tongues sliding together lazily. Mist reaches down to put her hand on the back of Sunshine’s head, sliding her fingers into her hair to hold her close. Mist slings one leg over Sunshine’s hips and putting the other knee between Sunshine’s thigh. Sunshine pulls her close, circles one arm around her waist and slips the other into the side of her shirt, cupping one of her breasts. Dragging her thumb over a pierced nipple and reveling in the way Mist gasps into her mouth.

Sunshine shifts her hips, presses down against Mist’s firm thigh. She has to pull away from Mist’s mouth on the first grind, her head snapping back against the dock as she drags her clothed cunt over Mist’s bare thigh.

She feels Mist doing the same thing to Sunshine. Little rolls of her hips. Sweet noises falling from her lips as Sunshine drags her hand down, ghosts her fingers over those gills she longed to touch. Feeling the way the delicate skin moves beneath her palm and the way Mist gasps just a little when she presses against them.

“So pretty,” Sunshine gasps, looking up at the way Mist moves above her. Sunshine can feel the how wet Mist is against her thigh. Cool slick pooling against Sunshine’s overheated skin. Sunshine wants to press her back into the dock. To bury her face between Mist’s pale thighs and drink her down.

“Mist—hang on—” Sunshine tries, gets cut off by the way Mist pushes her thigh against Sunshine’s cunt, by the way she reaches down to unbutton Sunshine’s shirt, exposing her breasts to the cool air. Mist bends and seals her mouth around one of Sunshine’s nipples and every thought of pausing flies from her mind.

Sunshine cums first, pulled over the edge by the way Mist drags her thigh over Sunshine’s clit, and those sharp teeth on her nipple. Mist isn’t far behind her. Back arching, slick gushing onto Sunshine’s thigh, into the hem of her shirt. A high sharp moan falling from her lips.

Mist allows Sunshine to pull her down, to curl her warm arms around her. It feels like a gift. Sunshine nuzzles her face into Mist’s curls.

“You don’t have to be lonely either,” Mist says, breath cool against Sunshine’s clavicle. Her long fingers dragging up over Sunshine’s exposed ribs leaving goosebumps in their wake. “I’m right here too.”

#comet writes #ficlet #Sunshine Ghoulette #Mist Ghoulette #ghost fic #ghost fanfic #ghost fanfiction #Sunshine/Mist

[howaboutcastiel]

Hold Me Together (Steven Grant)

Content: Vague descriptions of therapy + trauma. Fluff. Language. Gender-neutral reader.

Summary: Hey! Could I make a request for one of the moon bois (your choice!) helping you out after you get home from a particularly rough therapy session? Could be fluff or smut, once again, your choice! - @buttercuppatea

Word Count: 1,800

Author’s Note: I’ve come to realize that all of my Steven fics end up becoming smut. He deserves some nice fluff once in a while. Also so sorry that this one took a long time!

It shouldn’t have been anything out of the ordinary.

Every Thursday afternoon, for as long as you could remember, you met with your therapist for an hour to talk through your life. It was like clockwork; you were determined to help yourself, and your therapist seemed to know just how to make you do that. Each week you would check into her office at 3:45, she’d call you back at 4, and you’d meet Steven for dinner afterward at around 5:15. This week should have been just like that, and it was.

Technically. But it was also so much more.

You pattered out of the office at 5:03, tears streaming down your face. In your particularly shaky grip, you dialed Steven on your phone. He picked up in two rings.

“Hey, love,” he cooed. “Is everything alright?”

“Yeah, it’s fine.” You tried and failed to hide the waiver in your voice. “I just think we should eat at home tonight, yeah? You aren’t already at the restaurant, are you?”

“No, I’m still at the museum.” You could hear him frowning on the other end of the line. “Is there a reason you don’t want to go out?”

“I’m just tired. Can you pick up some Chinese food if I call it in?”

“Of course, darling. You sure everything’s okay?”

“It’s peachy, love. I’ll see you soon, okay?”

“Okay. Love you. Walk safe.” You tapped the end call button and shoved your phone into your coat. Steven had no doubt seen right through your adamant statement that everything was okay. It was not okay.

This session had sucked the life out of you. It was a necessary thing, you and your therapist both knew that, but it had rocked you to your core. Facing the past was not an easy thing to do; facing the ways that you had to grow from others’ shortcomings wasn’t a fun time, either. Even now that the hour was over, you struggled to make the tears stop running from your eyes. You just hurt so damn bad. You couldn’t go out in public like this.

Your heart was aching and you were cold. Not the physical kind, but the kind of chill that grew from an emptiness right in your core. You felt so vulnerable, so weak. The sky was caving in on you. It was all you could do just to walk yourself home.

You ordered the food with a monotone voice; the person on the line didn’t really seem to care. As long as you were easy to understand, you supposed. It didn’t matter that much because you couldn’t be bothered to eat, but you knew Steven would be downright starving. When you finally shuffled through the door of your shared open-concept apartment, there was nothing left in you but the empty dread from the previous hour.

You collapsed on the couch.

There were no tears left to cry, your body more exhausted than anything. It wouldn’t be too long now before Steven was coming through your door, boxes of comfort food in hand. You didn’t want him to see what a mess you’d made of yourself today. Reluctantly, you pulled yourself into the bathroom to wash your face.

“I come bearing gifts!” Steven bellowed as he fumbled his way into the front door. You emerged from the bathroom to see him tossing the food onto the kitchen counter, his jacket and hair more than disheveled from the wind. He immediately noticed your distress in spite of your attempt to watch the splotchy evidence away. His head tilted just a bit, his eyes widening with unease. “Oh, love. What’s happened to you?”

He was over by your side instantly, wrapping you in a careful bear hug and leaning his head into the crook of your neck. You felt yourself crumble under his grip.

“Today was hard.” That’s all you managed to get out, new sobs concealing the strength of your voice. You were surprised that you had any tears left at this point.

“You mean at your appointment?” He brought a hand to the back of your head, pulling you into him. You nodded. “Do you need to talk about it?”

“No. I just did an hour of that.” He released you from his grasp, which you’d barely had time to reciprocate with your brain so jumbled and lost. Steven led you over to the couch, wrapping you in your favorite quilt and patting your shoulders.

“I’ll bring the food over here. You want me to make you some tea?” He didn’t know exactly how to help. This was one of those things that didn’t really have a right answer. Steven’s eyes were to their brim with anxious tenderness. You knew that look; he dawned that expression whenever someone around was broken and he felt the need to pick up the pieces. He was quite good at that.

“I would love that. Thank you.” You really didn’t want to burden him, but you just couldn’t move. Every little breath was draining, every thought in your head a sorrowful one. How could you still feel so broken? You were here now. You were safe. You had a wonderful boyfriend to call your own. How could the past still drag you so deeply through the mud?

Steven brought over the boxes, some forks and napkins, and a piping hot mug. You thanked him with a lazy smile and he kissed your cheek before setting on the cushion beside you. You threw yourself into his grasp, not with much force but with a lot of resigned anguish. He sighed into your hair.

“You’re okay, darling. I’m right here.” He didn’t put a lot of pressure into holding you, grazing your skin just so you knew that his strong arms were there. Steven had no trouble snaking his arms around your grasp to push the lo mein into his mouth. He was remarkably calm, even steady as he let you wrap around him. “Can I ask you something?”

“Sure you can, love.” You were beginning to feel a bit better just from his touch. He had that effect on people; Steven radiated optimism in a way that made it hard for those around him to remain too sad. You swore it was a true supernatural power.

“Do you need a distraction, or just someone to be sad with?” Again, he was exceptionally calm. You turned your head to see a gentle smile painted on his face, genuine curiosity in his eyes.

“God damn it, Steven. You’re too good at this.” He let a soft chuckle out as you contemplated. “I need someone to be sad with, I guess. But I don’t want you to be sad with me. I more just want you to be here. While I’m sad.”

“I can do that.” He snuggled up to you as you sipped from your mug. Steven always made your tea perfectly.

He clicked the television on, turning the volume down low and skipping channels until he landed on a fairly innocent sitcom. You felt your appetite starting to creep in; maybe the stress was fading away enough that you’d be able to eat your dinner before it got cold. Steven ran his hands along your back, having scarfed down his own meal about as quickly as you had expected. You breathed a sigh of thankfulness into the universe as you felt that your box was still warm.

As you shoveled the warm food into your mouth, the tension began to dissipate from the center of your chest. It still wasn’t a pleasant feeling, but the overwhelming dread at least was starting to melt away. You had a thought.

“St—Steven.” You sheepishly murmured at him.

“Darling?”

“Can you sing to me?”

He was taken aback by this. You’d never asked him to sing to you before. It was more of something that you caught him doing. Steven sang in the shower, he hummed while he cleaned and he straight-up performed any time that he cooked, but those were all things he did anyway. The only times he sang to you were when you’d wake in the night from a nightmare or when he was trying to annoy you when you weren’t paying him enough attention.

“I—um… what would you like me to sing?” You saw the tips of his cheeks turn red. Steven didn’t exactly sing for the benefit of an audience. Sure, he knew that he could carry a tune, but he was nervous about your ask.

He didn’t think too much about it, though.

“I don’t know, anything? What about something in French?” And so that was that.

He began to softly sing La Vie En Rose, the only song he had memorized that somewhat vaguely matched your request. His voice was slightly gruff as it hit his lower range, which sent a warm feeling up your spine. Steven leaned your head up against him, letting you feel the vibrations of his chest as he lullabied to you.

The stress was melting away. Much of the worry went along with it. You existed in a pocket of time; there was nothing here but the warm feeling of his touch and the soft sound of his voice. The past meant nothing to you right now. You felt a pressure build behind your eyes as he finished the first verse. It wasn’t the same pressure as before.

It was just so perfect. You didn’t know how he’d managed to get to you this way. Each word from his mouth reached your ears with such elegance and he was holding onto you in just the right way. Immediately, you began to forget all those spiraling thoughts that had followed you all the way home. They meant nothing now. Not here.

He stopped mid-verse when he saw the tears roll down your cheek. Concern grew all over his face. “I didn’t mean to make it worse.”

“Oh, baby. You didn’t make it worse.” You smiled at him through the wetness, your vision blurred. “Keep going. These are happy tears.”

He finished the song, and by this time you had finished your meal. You laid down in his lap, allowing him to play with your hair as he found another lullaby to begin. There the two of you remained for a long while, your tension all drifting away. You let the sound of his voice lull you into a deep, absolutely dreamless sleep.

-

-

No tagged peeps

#moon knight #steven grant #marc spector #jake lockley #oscar isaac #steven grant x reader #moon knight x you #moon knight x reader #steven grant x you #moon night fanfiction #moon knight imagine #fluff #masterlist

[softlyspector]

Steven grant with delphinium please?

Delphinium: Open heart, ardent attachement

Steven loves with his heart on his sleeve. You never have to guess about his feelings, not ever. No one does, not Marc or Jake, not Layla, not Crawley.

Steven is open about his feelings, negative, positive, anywhere in between. When he first found an attachment to you, you had been shocked, not sure what you did to garner such attention from him - such reverence and carefully doled out care.

And similarly, he can't make sense of your shock, the way your eyes always widen a fraction when he makes a point to talk to you, to ask you about your day, to remember the things you say.

You're a closed little clam, tightly controlled emotions and even more tightly controlled actions - always afraid to be too much, say too much.

Steven's open adoration confuses you. And if it were anyone but him, you'd think he was messing with you - poking and prodding at your sore spots with a poison tipped knife.

But Steven doesn't have a malevolent bone in his body.

And so you are left with the unwelcome sensation of being cared for, of someone laying their heart at your feet and looking at you with wide open eyes, waiting.

You try.

You try really hard, to mimic the way Steven shows you love - the small things he did for you each day that added up to an open and fearless love.

But you think you fail miserably.

You worry you aren't doing it right, that your attempts aren't being received, and that Steven would move on without ever realizing that his affection was being returned to him in spades.

What was the point of handing off silly little puzzle games with funny notes attached, post cards from the trips you take for work, cups of steaming hot tea? What was the point of trailing his museum tours? What was the point of holding his hand so carefully? What was the point of carefully and meticulously picking out books for him, wrapping them in sky blue paper with a hastily scrawled message?

Does he understand you? Does he understand what you mean when you smile at him and hold his hand between yours?

You aren't really sure.

You aren't good at affection, you aren't good at showing you care. But you like Steven, and if anyone deserved effort, deserved love - it was him. So, you keep trying.

And maybe you don't admit it to yourself but you are waiting for the day when Steven stops caring so very much about you.

It's only when Steven, with a nervous lilt in his voice, asks you to have dinner with him at his flat that you realize that your gestures land, that they landed really well.

Steven has tacked up your postcards, all the little notes you've given him, even the one on the blue wrapping paper. He's completed most of the logic puzzles you've gifted him, tabbed and re-tabbed the books you gave him.

And he's even pinned up a picture of the two of you together, a selfie you had completely forgotten about.

"Oh, dear," he says when he notices the tears in your eyes that you furiously try to blink away. You did not cry and certainly not over something that's so silly. "Sorry, I've upset you somehow, haven't I?" He asks, nervously knotting his fingers together.

"No," you say. "Of course not. I just...didn't realize -," you stop and gesture helplessly at the books and postcards. "I just didn't realize you got it."

He glances around and then takes your hand gently. "Of course I did, love. How could I not?"

"You just - just love so openly and I'm not really that adept at it." You shake your head, "So I've just been thinking maybe you didn't get it because I wasn't doing it right."

Steven tugs you into him with a bit more force than is necessary and so you crash into him rather awkwardly, but he holds onto you nonetheless, whispering, "There isn't a wrong way. You're doing just fine. I hear you."

You tangle your fingers into the back of his shirt and think you might never let go.

#steven grant x reader #moon knight drabble #flower drabbles #moon knight

[emotionalcadaver]

Part 10: Red Right Hand

Fandom: Peaky Blinders

Pairing: Tommy Shelby x Grace Burgess x OC

Summary: A problem arises with Ada.

Word Count: 3,887

Notes: Warnings for references to pregnancy (not Lucy, though!), abortion, and infertility.

Masterlists: Main • Series • Fic

Previous Part • Next Part

Chapter 5: Rudolph Valentino

“I did some digging into Grace, like you said.”

They were taking the longer way around to Charlie’s yard. They’d some time to kill and it was quiet and less busy down by the cut. There were some things that they needed to talk about, preferably with less people around to potentially eavesdrop. 

“What did you find?” Tommy asked, passing his cigarette to her. 

“I asked your friends in Dublin about her and that pub she said she worked at. No one there has even heard of her.”

“Hm. Not a great start.”

“No,” she agreed, dejectedly. “But there’s all sorts of reasons for why she might’ve lied. Maybe she just needed work.”

“Maybe.”

“From what else I can gather, she’s from a rich family.”

“Rich and yet she winds up here.”

“She’s living in this little one room place near the train station. And on her days off, she goes…somewhere. I’m not sure where. Maybe the museum? I tried following her but she gave me the slip.”

Tommy frowned. “She lost you? On purpose?”

“I don’t know. I don’t think so, but it’s hard to tell.”

He pursed his lips.

“It’s suspicious, but it doesn’t prove anything, either,” shrugging, she handed the cigarette back to him.

“People lie for all sorts of reasons. It doesn’t mean she’s an enemy,” Tommy mused, more to himself than to her. “But keep an eye out for anything else.”

“Yes, boss,”she started absentmindedly twisting one of her rings around her finger. “She asked me for a favor when I came into the pub this morning.”

“What kind of favor?”

“She wanted me to ask you if you’d let her sing once a week at the pub.”

Tommy scowled. 

“I told her she’d need to ask you directly,” when he didn’t say anything to that, she sighed. “It’s not a ridiculous request, Tom. And she does have a nice voice.”

Tommy shot her a look. “You like her.”

Lucy bit her lip, failing to contain her smile. “Maybe. She’s nice. Why? Are you jealous?” she cocked her head, nudging him playfully. 

“What? No. Of course not.”

“You are! You’re jealous that I think she’s pretty.”

Tommy sighed the sigh of the endlessly suffering. Laughing, Lucy stretched up on her toes to peck his cheek. 

“Don’t worry, love. I think you’re pretty too.”

“Oi, you keep it up and I’m going to throw you in the cut,” he grumbled, emptily. Probably to try to distract her from the slight tint of pink that dusted his cheeks at her words. Snickering, Lucy looped her arms with his and rested her head on his bicep.

“Well, suspicious lies or not, I think that you should take her with you to the races.”

“You think?”

“Mhm. I’m gonna be with Arthur and John, and you’ll need someone to keep you company…”

“I could go by myself.”

“Then everyone will be focused only on you. Bring a pretty woman with you, and Kimber and a good share of his boys will be more occupied with drooling over her than giving you ample attention. It’ll be a good buffer.”

“Mm,” Tommy cocked his head, thinking it over.

“I know we can’t trust her, but there’s not much of anyone else you could take. Except for maybe Lizzie.”

Tommy made a face. “Absolutely not.”

“Mhm,” Lucy nodded, already knowing that would be his reaction. 

“Alright, fine. It’s a good idea,” his thumb circled over her arm when he laid his hand on her. “You’re sure you're comfortable with it?”

Lifting her head, she offered him a gentle smile. “I’m sure.” 

He gave her a quick kiss to the forehead, before stepping around the corner and onto a busier street. Though she loosened her grip and raised her head from where it was previously resting on him, she kept their arms linked until they got to the yard, letting him go so he could pull open the gate.

 Curly, upon seeing them, rushed to the stables to go get the horse. 

“Hi, you,” Lucy said, giving the horse a pat on his flank once he appeared with Curly. Tommy took hold of the reins, beginning to guide him towards the exit of the yard while Curly ran off to get a saddle. He tied the horse to a post so he would stay in place while they prepared him to be ridden.

Stroking the horse’s soft nose while speaking to him softly in Romani, Lucy chanced a glance at where Tommy had wandered over to speak with Charlie. He picked up something small and glittering that Charlie had set down on the table. Her brows drew together. It looked like a bullet. 

Curly arrived with the saddle and Lucy moved out of the way so he could set to work pulling it onto the horse’s back. 

“Tommy,” Charlie stood to follow as Tommy began to move back towards her. “Tommy!” 

Both her and Tommy’s heads jerked at the sudden rise in Charlie’s tone. Lucy quickly turned her face away as Tommy rounded back onto his uncle. No way in hell was she getting in the middle of that. 

“You mind how you speak to me,” Charlie warned. Tommy scoffed.

“Forgive me, Uncle,” there was just enough sincerity in his voice that it was hard to tell if he was being sarcastic or not. She stepped aside, letting him climb up into the saddle first. He held out a hand to her, clutching her arm tightly to help her haul herself up onto the horse’s back behind him. Wrapping her arms around his waist, she scooted forward until she was pressed comfortably against his back.

“It’s Thomas Shelby against the whole bloody world, right?” Charlie glowered up at them. Tommy didn’t respond, clicking his tongue and setting them at a bouncing trot headed towards the exit of the yard. 

“What was that?” she asked, once they’d left the yard behind, the horse’s hooves clicking rhythmically against the cobblestones. 

“Nothing.”

She paused, unsure if she should push him or not. “The Lees have declared war, haven’t they?”

His ribs expanded beneath her hands when he sighed. “Yes.”

“Well…that means things are going to plan, then.”

“Mm,” he grunted. They went an entire block before he spoke again. “We’re going to need to be careful for a while.”

That was Tommy-speak for, I might be a bit of an overprotective fool for a little while and I’m sorry in advance. She rested her forehead against the nape of his neck. Minorly annoying as his overprotectiveness could be at times, she truly didn’t mind it all that much. It was actually kind of sweet. And it felt nice; to know that someone cared about her that much to want so badly to keep her safe.  

 “Of course.”

He relaxed a little under her palms.

They carried on like that for a while, until they got to the street leading towards the Garrison. Tommy slowed the horse to a steady walk. A loud bang and a burst of flame suddenly flew forth from one of the factories to their right, and the horse whinnied in terror, bucking and rearing. Lucy grasped tightly onto Tommy’s waist, legs squeezing tight against the horse’s sides so she wouldn’t be thrown off. Tommy shushed at the horse gently, waiting until he stopped rearing to jump from his back.

“Easy, boy,” he cooed. Lucy scooted forward into the saddle, stroking the horse’s mane while Tommy rubbed along his nose, mumbling soft, gentle words to the horse. When he had fully settled, Tommy stepped away, taking hold of the reins and guiding him towards the street leading away from the factories.

Just as they were passing the Garrison, a figure popped out of one of the pub’s side doors, dumping a bucket of liquid muck out onto the street, barely missing Tommy with it. He took a step back, and Lucy had to cough to hide her laugh at the incredulous look that crossed his features.

“I’m so sorry, Mr. Shelby,” Grace stammered, eyes wide. But Lucy could see the faintest trace of calculation hidden behind the mock surprise. She wouldn’t have been shocked to hear that the barmaid had been waiting for them to walk past. “I’m Grace, by the way.”

“Hi, Grace!” Lucy called cheerfully from where she was still mounted on the horse. Grace’s smile dimpled her cheek when she looked up at her.

“Hello, Lucy.”

She was wearing a pink shirt under a green sweater, the outfit uncharacteristically bright compared to the monochrome palettes that most inhabitants of Small Heath garbed themselves with. And her golden hair looked soft where it brushed against her shoulders.

“I know who you are,” Tommy finally said in acknowledgement of Grace’s introduction. 

“What’s his name?” Grace asked, gazing at the horse. 

“He doesn’t have a name.”

“Poor boy deserves a name.”

Oh, Lucy really, really liked this girl.

“You have something to say to me?” clearly Tommy wasn’t buying the innocent, wide-eyed act either. Still, if Lucy had been standing down on the street with them she would have kicked him. He was going to end up chasing the pretty blonde away with his grumpiness if he wasn’t careful. 

Grace’s face fell slightly. “The other night you came into the pub when I was singing. You said singing wasn’t allowed,” she swallowed, picking up her courage. “I’d like there to be one night a week when there is singing,” when Tommy didn’t respond right away, a level of desperation reached her eyes. “I think it would be good for everyone. Saturday nights. Harry was too afraid to ask you, so…”

“But you’re not.”

“I am. But I love to sing.”

“You sound like one of those rich girls who comes over from Dublin for the races. Do you like horses?”

Lucy turned away, trying to bite back a smile even as it bloomed across her cheeks. Poor Grace didn’t know Tommy well enough to know it yet, but she had him. The big softy. He started to walk around the horse, and Lucy shifted back enough to make room for him to slide into the saddle in front of her.

“How would you fancy earning some extra money?”

Grace’s eyes narrowed slightly. “Doing what?”

“Dig out a nice dress. I want to take you to the races,” he urged the horse into a gallop before they could hear Grace’s answer, but when Lucy looked over her shoulder, she was squinting after them. Shooting a wink at her, she laughed, wrapping her arms around Tommy’s middle.

“Softy,” she mumbled into his ear. He glanced over his shoulder at her.

“You hush, you.”

She was still giggling softly by the time they finally made it back to Charlie’s yard.

∗ ∗ ∗ 

“Lucy, a word?”

Her head swiveled around, eyebrows flying up nearly to her hair line at Polly’s voice.

“Um, sure?” she followed her into the kitchen.

“Do you know when Tommy will be back?”

“Soon, I think. Why?” she pulled a cigarette from her case and lit it.

“We have a situation.”

“What sort of situation?”

“I took Ada to the doctor’s last night,” a droplet of dread began to fester in Lucy’s stomach. “She’s pregnant.”

“Oh, fuckkkk…” she rested her palm against her forehead, ruffling her hair, turning to look out the window. “Who’s is it?”

“She won’t say.”

“Is she keeping it?”

“She says she will. I’m trying…to get her to see sense.”

Lucy’s eyes darted to where the boys were working in the shop. “Have you told any of them yet?”

“I was planning to tell Tommy when he gets back.”

“Without Ada?”

“She went to the pictures. She doesn’t want him to know,” Polly huffed. “Truth be told, I think she’s scared senseless of what he’s going to do when he finds out.”

Leaning against the doorframe, Lucy nodded, eyes unfocusing as she began to think.

“Lucy, I’m telling you this because I need you to help me convince Tommy to let me deal with it. This is women’s business. He doesn’t need to get involved.”

“But he’ll want to,” she sighed, twisting her cigarette between her fingers before bringing it to her lips, watching as Tommy strode in, smiling and shooting greetings to the men he passed while removing his coat. God, and he was in such a good mood today, too. This would turn him sour for at least the rest of the week. “I’ll see what I can do.”

“Thank you.”

Tommy’s brows creased when he glanced up towards the double doors to see her and Polly. There must have been something in their faces. Something grave and exhausted because a frown immediately made a home on his lips as he approached them, hands shoved into his pockets. Before he got to Polly, Lucy stuck out a hand, resting it on his chest. 

“Don’t overreact,” she said sternly. Pushing past her, he leaned close to Polly.

“What’s happened?”

“Yesterday, I spoke with Ada, and last night, I took her to the doctor. She’s pregnant, Thomas,” Polly reached out a hand to try to steady him but he pulled away, storming towards the door without a word. Lucy called after him, hastily putting out her cigarette and rushing after him. He barely seemed to have enough forethought to grab his jacket on the way out the door.

“Tommy,” Lucy grabbed firmly onto his bicep with both hands to get him to stop walking. “Tommy, take a breath.”

“Which fucking asshole…which asshole did this to my sister, Lucy?” he growled at her. She didn’t flinch away from his tone, just raised an eyebrow.

“She won’t tell Polly who he is.”

Pressing a hand to his mouth, he began to pace back and forth along the sidewalk, like an agitated animal in a cage.

“Is she keeping it?”

“Right now she says she will. Polly’s trying to convince her to get rid of it.”

“How did we not know about this?” he mumbled. “How did you not know about this?” 

Lucy felt her eyes widen a very small fraction, but she didn’t let the accusation bother her too much. She knew it really had nothing to do with her. Not that he wasn’t particularly wrong. She was supposed to be his spy. His eyes and ears. She was supposed to keep him from being blindsided with information like this. The regret at snapping at her was plain as day in his eyes as he quickly looked away, pinching at his brow. 

“I’ve had more pressing things to keep track of than who Ada spreads her legs for,” she said sternly, crossing her arms over her chest. 

“I know,” he mumbled miserably. Shoving his hands back into his pockets, he looked up to the sky. “Do you know where she is now?”

“At the pictures,” she huffed when he immediately turned and started heading in that direction, scrambling, practically having to jog to try to keep up with him. “Will you slow down, you long legged jackass?” she snapped. He froze, turning to stare at her with his mouth half open in indignation. She was lucky that he loved her; had anyone else spoken to him like that, he probably would have blinded them.

“What?” she huffed once she’d caught up to him. Shaking his head, he started walking again, but this time at a notably slower pace. 

A piano was playing a slow, romantic melody to go with the moving black and white image on the big screen. There were only a handful of other people in the theater, a few glancing over in annoyance as Tommy slammed the doors open and briefly flooded the darkened room with light. Walking briskly down the aisle, he scanned over the seats until he spotted Ada sitting alone, a bag of popcorn balanced in one hand. He sat down in the seat beside her with a sigh, Lucy settling into the seat on the other side of him. Ada kept her eyes firmly on the screen, chin held high.

“Tell me the man’s name, Ada,” he ordered.

“Rudolph Valentino.”

Lucy couldn’t help but wonder if Ada wanted Tommy to go into full bitch mode. Because if that was the case, she was certainly about to get her wish. His jaw snapped shut, clenching so hard for a moment Lucy was worried his teeth might snap. Groaning, she leaned back in her seat with her eyes closed, legs pulling up to her chest so that when he stood and stormed out of the aisle, he was unimpeded. The doors boomed as he slammed them open.

“Please, please, just tell him who it is, Ada,” she begged without opening her eyes. Ada just scoffed. A moment later the music ceased and the lights came up, the door opening again as Tommy burst back into the auditorium. 

 “Get out! All of you! Go on! Now!”

Lucy didn’t bother opening her eyes, listening to the people around them beginning to scramble from their seats and rush for the doors. Tommy’s footsteps were menacingly loud as he strode back towards them. Ada made a move to get up, but, without opening her eyes, Lucy grabbed her by the back of her shirt and pulled her down into her seat.

“Stay.”

“I said, tell me his fucking name,” Tommy commanded. 

“Freddie fucking Thorne!”

Lucy’s eyes opened at that, head rolling back against the uncomfortable theater seat. Oh, come on. Him!? Really? Tommy’s lips were slightly parted, face not moving at all as he processed Ada’s words.

Ada started to shout, voice rising higher and higher. Tommy pulled away, shoes pounding on the floor as he stomped back to the doors, Lucy stood up, brushing imaginary crumbs from her waistcoat as she moved to follow him. Ada was still yelling after them, until the doors swung shut behind them and muffled her voice. 

“Very gracefully handled,” Lucy commented when they were back outside. Stepping into the shadows of the alley beside the theater, he groaned, leaning against the cold brick and pulling a cigarette from his case.

“Fucking Freddie,” he grumbled is disbelief and annoyance, closing his eyes and tipping his head back while he smoked. 

“Thought that she had better taste than that,” she wrapped her arms around herself. Standing in the shade was making her cold. “Try not to be too hard on her. She’s scared, Tommy.”

“You think so?”

“Mhm. Can’t say that I blame her. I would be too.” 

Opening his eyes, Tommy glanced lazily down at her, taking note of the tiny shivers running through her shoulders and wrapping an arm around her, pulling her against his side to warm her. Something fierce and protective entered his face.

“I’d take care of you.”

She smiled up at him, sadly. She’d still never told him, that when it came to that, it would never be possible with her. “I know you would, love,” head coming to rest against his shoulder, she heaved out a sigh. “What are you going to do?”

“I don’t know,” he mumbled finally. Lucy curled closer to his side, both in an attempt to warm up and to try to offer some form of comfort. “I don’t fucking know.”

∗ ∗ ∗ 

“Pol, listen. The truth is you would have hit me with that thing if it weren’t for the fact that you know I’m right!” Tommy shouted after his aunt. She shot him a hate-filled look before disappearing around the corner. Tommy brought his foot down in a kick to the table behind him, face contorting with frustration. Folding an arm around his middle, he supported the elbow of the arm holding his cigarette near his face, eyes focused on the floor.

Why, why wouldn’t any of them ever just fucking listen to him?

A part of him had hoped that maybe, this one time, Polly and he would actually agree on something when it came to what they should do about Ada and Freddie.

Apparently not.

He wasn’t sure how long he stayed there, just staring at the floorboards and listening to the fire crackle in the furnace, until the door opened. Still he didn’t look up. He didn’t need to. He recognized her by the sounds of her footfalls alone.

“Tom?” Lucy’s fingers brushed gingerly along his shoulder. “Are you okay?”

He just grunted in response. Her hands trailed up his shoulders, skimming along his neck while she stepped in front of him. Palms cradling the back of his head, she pulled his face down until his head was laying on her chest. A quiet, exhausted groan left his lips, arms wrapping around her waist as he let her hold him. 

∗ ∗ ∗ 

The tea rooms were so fancy: each table set with delicate China teacups and glimmering silverware. Intricate paintings and tapestries covered the walls, and the white wood surrounding the doorframes was detailed with embellishments of gold. On the tables in the center of each room, stood towers of little cakes, fruits and chocolates. 

Campbell had been standing expectantly at a table in the corner. A tall man, with a gray mustache and eyebrows that seemed to forever be arched in annoyance. While he’d spoken plainly enough with Tommy, his brows had furrowed upon noticing Lucy standing behind him.  

“There’s no need for her to be here.”

“My assistant goes where I go.”

“I was hoping that we could speak privately.”

“Don’t flatter yourself, inspector, I’m here for the food,” Lucy interjected, taking a measured step back to examine the tower of pastries in the middle of the room. Campbell still did not seem fully satisfied, but sighed as he watched Lucy pick up a plate and begin to pile it with cakes. For all appearances completely and utterly uninterested in them.

It had become a certain specialty of hers: to blend away amongst the background of any room. Close enough to be within earshot of conversation, but still providing those conversing with the illusion of privacy.  

Tommy followed the inspector’s lead as they both settled into seats across from each other at the table. Sinking her teeth into a spongy white cake, she listened subtly and intently as Tommy and Campbell spoke to each other. 

In the end, the deal that Tommy struck was quite good: Campbell would leave them alone, and, in return, when the time was right, Tommy would hand over the guns to him. All he had to do was be patient.  

Campbell agreed, gruffly and quite unenthusiastically. Rising from his seat, Tommy began to head towards where she was standing, sinking her teeth into a little chocolate pastry, palm held out beneath it to catch any fallen crumbs. She crammed the remainder of it into her mouth and followed him.

“He looked like steam was about to come out of his ears when you first mentioned the guns,” she mumbled in a low voice, grinning. “Pompous asshole.”

“How were the cakes?”

She shrugged. “Alright. But I think they skint on the amount of chocolate on the strawberries.”

Chuckling, he opened the car door, hand steadying her as she climbed in before he went around the other side and slid into the driver’s seat. Lucy yawned, eyelids drooping while her cheek rested against his shoulder.

“Home?”

“Home.”

Thank you for reading! Please consider leaving a comment, reblog, or like. I always appreciate feedback and love getting the opportunity to interact with you and hear your thoughts!

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#tommy shelby x oc #tommy shelby #grace burgess #grace burgess x oc #peaky blinders #tommy shelby x grace burgess x oc #lucy winters #lucy winters x tommy shelby #lucy winters x grace burgess #lucy winters x tommy shelby x grace burgess #my fanfiction #red right hand #not an update

[downbad4yoongi]

Closer

For @bangtanwritershq June Big 3 Event:

pairing: Namjoon x Jimin

WC: 2571

au/genre: mutual pining, fluff, smut,

rating: MA

Tags/Inclusions: fountains, praise, outdoor sex

My big 3: sun (Capricorn) - member(s): minimoni, moon (aries) - where/how you (or they) met: dinner in Rome, rising (Gemini) - cliche trope: mutual pining

Thank you to @colormepurplex2, @moonleeai, and @heathfritillary-blog for betaing for me. Thank you @hisunshiine for the banner! <3

“I didn’t know you became telepathic?” 

Jimin jolts upright from his slouched position against the bar, his booted foot thudding hard on the tile as he straightens up.

He glances confused over his shoulder at his uncle, “What?”

“You’re staring at that boy. I figured you were reading his mind to take his order.”

Heat flushes up his neck and cheeks, “I–I was not staring!”

His uncle shoots him a withering look, “Boy, you were staring so hard I’m surprised he couldn’t feel it.”

Jimin huffs, snatching his server pad off the counter. He spins on his heel and heads out onto the restaurant floor. For the past few summers, Jimin has been spending time in Rome, enjoying time off school and working at his Uncle Kyubok’s trattoria.  He enjoys the more straightforward, slower time of Rome in the summer. However, this summer has been delightful, a feast for his eyes, ever since a tall Korean man stumbled into the eatery.

There are very few Koreans roaming around Rome. So, this one has caught Jimin’s attention. If his nationality wasn't enough, he would have surely noticed him due to his height. The customer is tall but not tall enough to be intimidating. His size pairs well with his demeanor. The stranger is pensive; Jimin has startled him from his deep thought several times this summer as he has enjoyed various delicacies. 

Even now, the man sits forward with his chin propped on a giant fist, deep in contemplation. Jimin approaches from behind, enjoying the broad spread of his shoulders under the stretch of the man’s thin cotton t-shirt paired with dark denim shorts and open-toed sandals. 

Damn, his legs go on for days. Jimin admires them the most when he wears shorts, exposing his thick thighs. 

Jimin gives a little shake of his head, snapping out of his ogling. He braces himself as he approaches the table, sure that this will be another incident of him accidentally startling the man. He steps into the customer’s line of sight with a bright smile pasted on. “Would you like another coffee? Perhaps some dessert?”

Like clockwork, the man’s shoulders jerk roughly, the movement is enough to jolt the small table he is sitting at. As much as Jimin tries, he cannot stifle the giggle that manages to escape him.

The man’s deep, dark eyes snap to him as his cheeks flush a light red. “What? What’s so funny?”

Jimin purses his lips, swallowing the remaining laughter before answering, “I’m sorry but you are. I don’t mean to be rude, but this is probably the fifth time this has happened over the past few weeks.”

The man huffs, “Well, maybe make more noise as you approach, and this wouldn’t happen.”

Jimin’s brow flies into his hair, “You’re in a trattoria. You should expect servers to approach you pretty regularly. It’s kind of part of the deal.”

The stranger flounders, failing to come up with a good retort. “Yeah. Um, I guess you are right.”

“What’s your deal anyway?”

The man’s brow furrows, unsure if he should take offense, “What do you mean?”

“I mean, why are you always lost in thought? You’ve been coming here for weeks and constantly staring off into the abyss.”

“Oh,” the man’s cheeks flush an even deeper red, “I am just still processing the art I finished viewing at one of the local museums.”

“Are you an art critic or something?”

“Or something,” he muses, “I’m an Art History student studying abroad. I’ve been visiting different museums to soak in the culture.”

Jimin hums under his breath, “I’m not even surprised. That totally fits your overall vibe.”

“I have a vibe?”

“Oh, definitely.” Jimin exudes confidence as he utters the statement with finality.

“Are you going to share what that vibe is?”

Jimins lips quirk up on the edges, “Sure, why not? Can I get a name first, though?”

“Namjoon.”

“Well, Namjoon, your vibe is definitely an old soul philosopher. Quite Descartes-like.” Jimin taps his notepad against his palm. “You constantly give off ‘I’m contemplating the meaning of life’ vibes.”

“Well, um–”

“Jimin.”

Namjoon tips his head toward him. “Well, Jimin, I want to be offended, but I can’t disagree for some reason. I do tend to contemplate a lot the meanings behind things, words, movements…” He trails off, waffling his hand in the air as he sits back. Namjoon’s thoughts scatter as the most captivating giggle tinkles through the air. Warmth spreads through his chest as Jimin covers his mouth with his pad, the server’s eyes morphing into crescents. Namjoon swipes his tongue across his lip, “What? What’s so funny?”

Jimin shrugs a shoulder and shakes his head. “Nothing at all. You seem very intelligent. Wish I could stay and talk more, but as you can see—” he motions to the eatery around him, “I’m rather busy.”.

“Oh, yeah.” Namjoon picks up the hint, “Right. I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to keep you,” he glances down at his menu before pointing at something randomly to order, “I’ll have this.”

Jimin quickly jots it down and, with a slight bow, takes his leave. 

Despite the numerous places Namjoon had planned to check out during his time in Rome, he finds himself returning to the same local trattoria around the same time each day. All in hopes of interacting with the handsome server who has managed to draw him out of his shell. These interactions have quickly become a highlight of his experience, and he finds himself greedy for more. And now he has a name,  Jimin. 

Namjoon walks into the trattoria, unusually busy at this time of day, and snags a table just as a couple vacates. It hasn’t been bussed yet, but he doesn’t mind. He quickly gathers the dishes into a small pile to one side and waits to see Jimin again.

It’s not long before Jimin pushes out of the swinging kitchen door, his arms laden with food. He watches Jimin’s eyes sweep the space pausing on him when he notices the new guest. Jimin’s smile causes Namjoon’s lips to raise upward in greeting.

It takes a bit of time, but Jimin is finally able to make his way over to Namjoon’s table, which has since been cleared of the dirty dishes, and a fresh carafe of water has been delivered.

“Wow! So sorry about that. We got this sudden rush, and of course, today two of our staff are out,” Jimin gushes as he stands over Namjoon, who for once wasn’t startled at his approach.

Namjoon waves his hand, brushing the other man’s words off. “It’s alright. The wait wasn’t too bad.”

“Yes, it was, but I appreciate the lie.”

Namjoon laughs, the laughter growing as Jimiin mirrors his joy with his own giggle. Jimin grips the back of the chair across from Namjoon, but another guest catches his eye and waves him over. Jimin can’t hold back the sigh that escapes him. 

Before Jimin can apologize again, Namjoon interjects, “It’s alright. I’ll just have my usual. Go and help the other customer, he seems very insistent.”

With a grateful smile, Jimin heads off to see what the man needs. Unfortunately for both of them, Jimin is kept occupied for the remainder of Namjoon’s meal time, and before they know it, Namjoon is getting ready to leave. 

Jimin turns the corner and sees Namjoon standing, pulling bills from his wallet to leave on the table for his meal. Namjoon looks up just in time to see Jimin’s face fall as he rushes over.

“You’re leaving already?”

The taller man nods, “Yeah. I have a couple of tours I scheduled, and I need to head out.”

“We barely got to talk today,” Jimin pouts.

“Well, actually…” Namjoon trails off, ducking his head before taking a deep breath and pushing on, “Would you want to meet up outside of your uncle’s trattoria? Maybe enjoy a meal together?”

Jimin’s brows fly into his hairline, “Like a date?”

Namjoon blushes as he rocks on his heels, “Yeah, like a date.”

Jimin’s grin is blinding, “Definitely.”

Jimin walks along the cobbled pathway to the ristorante, where he told Namjoon to meet him. It’s one his close friend became obsessed with when he visited last summer; the restaurant specializes in fresh pasta and seafood dishes, which is a place Jimin is excited to share with Namjoon.

The heels of Jimin’s boots slow to a stop as they near the entrance when he sees Namjoon loitering nearby. He runs this lip through his teeth as he smooths his hands down the front of his dark green shirt tucked into a crisp pair of black jeans. 

Jimin is feeling confident in the style options he chose for tonight. His self-assurance was buoyed by the color tones he chose that perfectly complemented his chestnut locks and gold-toned jewelry. He admires that Namjoon picked similar options that highlight his best features.

Namjoon is leaning against a light pole out front of the ristorante, and he’s dressed in a park of dark denim pants with brown boots and a casual beige blazer over a crisp, white shirt. Jimin can’t help biting his lower lip as he takes in the wide width of the man in front of him; the blazer is doing everything in its power to get him on his knees and beg Namjoon for mercy. 

Unfortunately, Jimin’s heel snags a loose stone alerting Namjoon to his admirer’s presence, cutting his ogling session short. 

Namjoon’s face lights up when he sees Jimin. Jimin notices the tall man’s gaze rake over him from head to toe and back again. He can’t suppress the confidence boost blooming within at the involuntary sound of appreciation that echoes from the cavern of Namjoon’s broad chest.

“Hi, sorry I’m late.” Jimin initiates closing the distance between them, leaving only a hair's breadth of separation between their chests.

Namjoon shakes his head emphatically, “Late? You’re not late at all. I was anxiously early.” The pink tinge of his cheeks expands to envelope his neck as he ducks his head.

“Anxious?”

“How could I not be? I’m meeting the man I’ve been secretly admiring for weeks for dinner, and finally, it's without the distraction of other diners.”

Now, it’s Jimin’s turn to duck his head in embarrassment. “I’m not even sure how to real– I don’t know how to respond to that adequately, but just know the feeling is mutual.”

Namjoon’s plump lips spread into an ear-splitting grin, “I’ll take it!” He jerks his head toward the lit entrance, “Want to head inside?”

Jimin bobs his head bashfully and allows himself to be pulled along once Namjoon gathers his smaller digits in his much larger grasp.

With dedicated time to focus on each other, dinner flies by in a flurry of porcelain plates ladened with delicious food and glasses of wine. As the bill is being settled, Jimin suggests a walk through the surrounding area. Namjoon eagerly agrees, scooping Jimin's hand snuggly into his as they head back into the crisp night air.

Settling alongside each other, they enjoy the other's presence and the gentle noise of the evening. Jimin knocks his head against the taller man's shoulder, "Did you know Rome is home to over 2,000 Fountains? "

"Oddly enough, I did," Namjoon answers sheepishly.

Jimin giggles, "Oh yes, how could I forget you're the man with an encyclopedia of useless knowledge for a brain."

Namjoon balks, his cheeks tinging a deep pink. He's quick to regain his wits, though. "Hey, it was this encyclopedic brain that drew you in."

"Touché." Jimin leans into Namjoon, his other hand grabbing the man's thick bicep. "There's an adorable alcove near here with one of my favorite fountains. Want to check it out?"

"Lead the way, my kind sir." Namjoon grins proudly when that earns a peal of giggles from Jimin.

Gripping Namjoon's hand tighter, Jimin guides the pair down a few more winding streets. Moments later, they can hear the tinkling water before the alcove, set aside away from foot traffic, comes into sight. Namjoon is immediately able to understand why this is Jimin's favorite.

The fountain itself is moderate in size and relatively simple in design. The area surrounding the pool of water steals Namjoon's breath. A serene garden is spread out around them, lush greenery and delicate flowers are abundant. The pleasant slice of peace is surrounded by a ring of trees that creates the perfect halo to highlight the bright full moon above.

"Voíla!" Jimin announces. 

"Wow! This is indescribably beautiful, Jimin." Namjoon circles around the fountain and looks closely at some nearby plants. He glances up, and his breath is stolen once again by the gorgeous man before him.

The light of the moon perfectly highlights the graces of Jimin's visage. Namjoon can’t help but be drawn back to the side of the man he’s been adoring for several weeks. Standing this close, Namjoon can only barely hold back a weak moan by biting his lip. He wants every moment of this ingrained into his memory forever.

Namjoon may not have been as silent as he had hoped, as Jimin startles when he finally notices how close the other man has returned to stand beside him. He jerks back in surprise, and Namjoon’s firm grip flashes out to grasp his upper arm and prevents him from stumbling any further,

A breathy, “Thanks,” leaves Jimins lips right before Namjoon’s own plush lips crash against his. They cling to each other as lips parts, tongues tangle, and breaths exchange places. Jimin can feel nothing and everything all at once; he feels ecstatic and floating in the aether while simultaneously feeling the individual grip of every finger as he clutches Namjoon’s broad shoulders. 

Shadow and light intertwine as their own limbs find similar paths to weave them tighter together. Sanity and space fail to intervene as they claw at each other, fingers unfastening pants and tugging turgid cocks free of their confines. 

Desperate pants of air fill the space between them as they cede control to each other in a fraught plea to be closer. Agonized moans are torn from throats as Namjoon’s giant fist encircles both of them, providing them with needed relief.

Jimin tears his lips from the other man’s, his head falling to Namjoon’s shoulder with a sob as short, firm jerks of his cock send him further spiraling into delirium. 

“Fuckfuckfuckfuck…” Jimin whimpers with each catch of his glans against that of his lover’s. “More, fuck more!” Jimin begs feverishly.

Namjoon grunts, snapping his hips to increase the friction as his grip tightens around their lengths. His lips mouth Jimin’s ear as his free hand manipulates the diminutive man’s heavy sac, applying just the right amount of pressure. 

Breaths pass before Jimin tosses his head back and cries out into the open air, “Yesssss!” His hips jerk as he comes fast and hard, spilling across Namjoon’s pumping fist.

“That’s it, baby, yes, come for me,” Namjoon encourages, his movements speeding up as he chases his own completion, which comes within moments of Jimin’s and joins the stickiness already coating his hand.

They collapse against each other, panting. Thrills of pleasure randomly spike through them as they come down from their mutual high.

It’s Jimin who finally breaks the quiet with a soft laugh, “Imagine what could have happened if we had gotten out of our own way sooner?”

#namjoon fanfic #park jimin #jimin fanfic #minimoni #bts smut #bts fluff #bts #bts ff #bangtanwhq

[starryevermore]

do not chastise the dove (10) ✧ steven grant, marc spector, jake lockley

do not chastise the dove ✧ a royal moon knight au | ao3 | pinterest board

pairing: knight!steven grant x fem!princess!reader x knight!marc spector x knight!jake lockley

series summary: you were a princess who would rather be anything but a royal; he was the knight her father forced her to marry—a true match made in hell if there ever was one. but, as the wedding inches closer and closer, it seems that, perhaps, your father had finally done something right by you. 

chapter summary: operation rescue dove is underway.

word count: 2,218

warnings?: mention of death, mention of kidnapping, mention of psychological torture, not proofread. 

Steven was a generally nervous sort of fellow. Sure, in recent years he had grown more confident as he, Marc, and Jake became aware of each other and grew to work together. Being a Moon Knight certainly also helped in that regard. Yet, he often slipped back into his former mannerisms. After all, old habits die hard. And when it came to you? Oh, he was as nervous as nervous could be. 

He had cared for you for quite a long time. When he learned that he and you were to be engaged, he had been equal parts excited and wary. All Steven had ever wanted was to be loved. And if the person who loved him was as sweet, as kind, as lovely as you? Oh, that would have been wonderful. But, with that also came the knowledge that you didn’t ask for any of this. While he may have been excited, he didn’t know how you might react. To the marriage. To Marc. To Jake. To him. As much as he wanted to go all in, he knew he had to hold back.

But then, you opened up to him. You let him in. You held him close, you smiled brightly at him. You let him see the more vulnerable parts of you. And he knew. He knew that you wanted to be loved just as much as he wanted to be loved. Steven promised, Steven swore, that he would do whatever it took to make sure you felt loved. 

It felt like he was failing. Steven never thought his life would end up like this. He always sort of hoped that he and the boys could retire from being a Moon Knight, that he might work in a museum or perhaps a library. He wanted a quiet life. He wanted a life where he could learn and teach and just be. Now, now his life was full of chaos. And he didn’t mind it. Not so much, anyways.  

Because you didn’t deserve any of this. Steven was only starting to get to know you, only starting to get to know the person that was hidden in the princess. But he knew enough to know you only deserved the best in the world. You deserved all the love. You deserved all the happiness. You deserved all the peace. 

He hoped, he really, truly hoped, that you understood that. And if you didn’t understand, if you didn’t believe the sincerity in his words, then he would spend every day of the rest of his life making sure you did. 

First things first, though: He had to make sure you got home. He had to make sure they saved you. He had to make sure that you were no longer in harm’s way. It fucking ate him up inside to know that you had been taken somewhere. That someone could be hurting you—that someone probably was hurting you. It killed him to know that he had been unable to do anything to stop it.

(Maybe if he had gotten up earlier, he could’ve clocked the “guard” as a fraud. He could’ve gone with you to Nelson & Murdock. He could’ve fought off the “guard” when they tried to take you. He could’ve done something. Surely, he could’ve done something.)

Steven tried to not dwell too much on the what-ifs. Those weren’t going to save you. Those sort of thoughts only served as a distraction. And for what they were about to do, they couldn’t afford any distractions. 

They had one shot at this. And Steven wasn’t going to let this be ruined. 

“What? So we’re just supposed to fly in and hope no one hears us?” Yelena said, her brow raising as she looked the man up and down. “I don’t know if all that flying’s damaged your hearing, Frenchie, but a helicopter’s loud as all hell.”

Frenchie rolled his eyes, but a smile remained on his face. Marc could tell that Frenchie liked Yelena’s quips and sarcastic nature. He imagined the two of them might become good friends when all of this was over. “The noise is the point. We want to get people’s attention.”

Yelena’s brow raised higher. “Explain.”

Everyone had been working the last couple of days to finalize the plan on how to get to you. Jessica had been able to confirm the exact coordinates of where you were being held—how, Marc had no idea, but he wasn’t entirely sure he wanted to know. It was best not to kick a gift horse in the mouth. The next part—the rescue part—had a lot less planning. Mostly because they weren’t one hundred percent positive what they were getting into when they arrived at where you were being kept so it was better to not have a plan to stick to in case things got dicy, partly because Yelena had been hung up on the helicopter part of the operation for the last two hours.

Marc took the opportunity to jump in. “The capitol and surrounding cities are on lockdown. No one is supposed to go in or out. If the authorities were alerted to someone leaving say, by helicopter, they’re going to jump into action to try and stop whoever’s trying to leave.”

“We’re going to lead them straight to the princess,” Yelena concluded. “Not bad. But if we’re going to lead the authorities there, why do we all need to team up?”

Layla, who had been gathering the weapons with Jessica, turned to Yelena. “We’re not going to take any chances. While they may follow us, they’re not going to realize right off the bat that we’re doing a rescue op. We’re still going to have to go in there and find and extract Dove.”

Matt spoke up, “That brings us back to Yelena’s original question. Whoever has the princess is going to hear us, too. What if they decide to kill…” He paused, clearing his throat. “What if they panic?”

“She’s not going to be guarded the whole time,” Marc said. “That’s not the way Harrow was trained. Harrow’s going to have been the one to do the dirty work. The king would have wanted as minimal knowledge about this so that he could plead ignorance. It would have all fallen on his advisor then. Moon Knights, in Harrow’s day, were more about psychological tactics than brunt force. He’s going to want her to beg to die. The king is going to want her to beg to die. Isolation is the best way to bring that about. It’s not likely that they’ll…They’re going to move her before they kill her. We just have to follow the right person.”

“Should be obvious, then,” Shang-Chi said. “There’s only going to be a couple of people running off instead of fighting. One to get the car, another one, maybe two, to get the princess.”

“More likely to be two to get the princess,” Jessica said. “One to carry her, drag her, whatever. One to fight off any of us who gets too close.”

Marc nodded. “Exactly. Yelena, you and Jake are going to be working on finding and rescuing Dove. Everyone else, make sure we have a clear path in and out.”

“Are we just supposed to assume the authorities won’t get in the way?” Yelena asked. 

“We’re going to alert them before we go in,” Layla said. “We’ll mostly have to hope they listen to us, but…I think they will. This isn’t exactly the kind of thing they would take a chance on.”

“And we just have to trust that?” Yelena asked. 

There was a long pause, the kind of silence where you could hear a pin drop. Layla spared a glance at Marc, before looking to Yelena. She said, “I don’t think we have any other choice.”

“I don’t like that look on your face,” Yelena said.

She had been watching Jake closely the entire flight. Jake, for the most part, ignored it. What did he gain by acknowledging it? He knew Yelena would say something sooner or later. If it meant that he got to have a few more minutes of silence, he would happily take the later option. 

“It’s just my face, ‘lena,” Jake said. 

“Mm, looks more like Marc’s face, actually. All broody and sad. More wrinkly than usual,” she said. “You’re not nervous, are you?”

“Of course I am. The woman I love is being tortured, is close to being killed.” Jake paused as a bit of turbulence shook the helicopter. “I’d be a fool to not be nervous. But I’d be a bigger fool if I let that stand in my way.”

They were close to where you being held. For the most part, the authorities hadn’t caught up to them yet. Jake did hear them over the radio, barking at Frenchie to land. But they didn’t get close. Actually, it was the news helicopter that had been following closely behind the entire time, trying to get a good look at the folks who dared defy the lockdown order. Jake wasn’t sure he was ready to deal with the fallout of the field day they’d have when they realized he, the fiancé of the princess, was the one running about. 

Yelena was quiet for a moment. Jake was half-convinced that she decided to drop it altogether when she said, “It’s okay to be nervous. I was nervous when I rescued my sisters.”

Jake glanced at her, his brows furrowing. “Sisters?”

“Not blood,” she said. “But…We felt like family, you know. Trauma bonded and all that. Natasha and I…When we got out, we couldn’t let them continue to live through that pain. We did something like this, just the two of us…with a lot less resources. I was really scared then. I thought: If this goes wrong, I’ll be trapped again. But worse, I worried how the others would be treated for my rebellion. When one of us stepped out of line, we all were punished. But I used those nerves to push through, to remind me I had a reason to keep fighting. The princess, Dove, whatever you call her, she’s your reason. Use that.”

Jake nodded slowly. He hadn’t been expecting this kind of pep talk from Yelena. Usually, she was more about being witty than motivational. But he didn’t mind. Though… “Natasha?” he repeated. “You mean, Natasha Romanoff?”

For the first time for as long as Jake has known her, Yelena wore surprise on her face. Her eyes widened, both her brows raised, her jaw dropped. It was almost comical. He might have laughed under different circumstances. “You know her?”

“I’ve heard of her. When I went to Dove’s birthday ball, I had to learn the names of everyone who’d be attending. I remember Natasha’s name, but I didn’t get to meet her,” Jake said. 

“I haven’t seen in her forever,” Yelena said, her voice uncharacteristically small. 

He wanted to ask why, but he didn’t feel like it was his place. If anyone understood the complexities of family, it would be him. So, instead, he said, “If you want, when this is all over, I can ask Dove if she can arrange for the two of you to meet up.”

“…I feel like I’m already asking for so much.”

“I don’t think she’d mind.”

“…it would be nice to see her again.”

Before Jake could say anything more, Frenchie was shouting that they were about land. Slowly, the helicopter descended from the sky, landing in a field not far from a farmhouse. The farmhouse was where you’d been taken, according to Jessica. It wasn’t a bad place to hide someone, if Jake was being honest. You think of a kidnapping plot, you think of warehouses or shipyards or other abandoned buildings. A cozy, quaint farmhouse was far from what anyone would consider. But not everyone had Jessica Jones on their side. 

Frenchie passed the radio to Jake, letting him speak into it. He felt a bit foolish using pilot terms, but he felt that the message was best coming from him instead of Frenchie. At least they could recognize his voice and more easily come to the conclusion that he was on their side. Or, rather, that they should be on his side. But, nevertheless, the message got across — “Don’t hurt us, we’re about to save the princess.”

Meanwhile, Layla had gathered everyone and supplied them with their weapons of choice. She went through the plan one last time with everyone before the sneak-up of their lives went underway. Again, Jake felt a bit foolish. It was hard to sneak through a field. But they needed as much of an upper-hand with this as possible. 

Though, as they got closer to the farmhouse, it seemed the sneaking wasn’t quite necessary. The entire farmhouse had fell into chaos. People were running around like they were chickens with their heads cut off. Jake was half-convinced that if they joined in, played the role well enough, that they’d blend right in. He almost wanted to change the plan to that. But…Well, he’d much rather hurt the people who hurt you.

And so, he led the charge with a ferocious shout.

He was coming for you.

#do not chastise the dove: a royal moon knight au #steven grant imagine #steven grant x reader #steven grant x fem!reader #steven grant x female reader #marc spector imagine #marc spector x reader #marc spector x fem!reader #marc spector x female reader #jake lockley imagine #jake lockley x reader #jake lockley x fem!reader #jake lockley x female reader #starrywrites #starryevermore

[splendidlyinlove]

Begin Again

Pairing: Coops

Rating: General Audiences

Summary: Sirius just got his cast off his ankle a week ago and has his first physical therapy session with Remus. He is lovesick and pining. (this takes place before sweater weather and is pre coops) 

Read it on ao3!

This version of Remus and Sirius belong to the lovely mind of @lumosinlove

Content warnings for injuries and recovering from them! 

Remus was like those paintings that you can't look away from in museums. You know the ones that practically drag you by the front of your shirt to stand in front of it. And you stand there, just staring up at it in its entirety, tears rolling down your face for a reason you can't name. The painting reaches out, opening its arms like a mother, and as it caresses your cheek it says, "It's okay, I understand." Remus was like that, he'd make you fall to pieces in a public setting, he'd make you feel whole again with just one glance. 

Sirius watched as Remus flitted about the room gathering materials. He shifted awkwardly on the PT table. His foot didn’t look right out of his cast, he hadn't stopped staring at it since last week when he got his cast off. He hated this, feeling weak. He was nervous, what if he never played the same again, what if he couldn’t play again, what if his skates never fit the same-

“Okay Pads, let’s get started yeah?” Remus looked at him with a soft open smile. 

Remus Remus Remus. His heart beat in time with the syllables. It was dangerous, he felt like he was on a cliff looking down at the drop below. It was deep, he had a long way to fall. He was terrified that everything in him screamed to jump. 

He nodded at Remus, a nervous smile tugging at his lips. Remus walked over to the end of the table, carefully taking off the soft brace that Sirius still had on his ankle. Sirius cringed at the phantom pains that seemed to emanate up his leg. 

Remus noticed, stopping his movements immediately. “Are you okay? That doesn’t hurt right?” 

Sirius blushed, feeling embarrassed. “No! No, it’s just…,” he trailed off, vaguely gesturing at his head. Stupid. Stupid, stupid, stupid. 

A look of understanding crossed Remus’s face. “Ah, your brain is messing with you. That’s okay, phantom pains are very common.” Remus cleared his throat and moved his hand slightly up Sirius’s leg to his shin and reassuringly rubbed his hand back and forth. “If you ever want to stop just let me know okay? If it ever gets hard physically or mentally we’ll stop and take a break. We’ll go at your speed.” 

Sirius blushed harder, bringing his hands up to cover his face. ���Ouais okay, sorry that was stupid.” 

“It wasn’t stupid at all, I want you to be comfortable. Can I continue?” 

Sirius dropped his hands into his lap and gave a little nod. When Remus got the brace off, he ran his fingers along Sirius’s ankle and foot, checking the tendons and bones. Sirius tried not to shiver at his touch, he failed. His eyes trailed up Remus’s arm to his face where he could see his caramel lashes fan over the highpoints of his cheek. Remus had a freckle right below his ear, Sirius had never allowed himself to look long enough to notice before. He was looking now. 

Remus turned to look at him. “It looks perfect.” 

“Quoi…oh! Oh, that’s,” Sirius cleared his throat, “that’s good.” 

“Okay, this being our first session we’re going to go easy.” Remus took Sirius’s foot in his hands. “I’m going to warn you, it’s not going to be exactly…comfortable, but if anything hurts, or twinges, or stings you tell me immediately, okay?” Sirius nodded. “Okay, so what I’m going to do first is help you roll your ankle in a slow circle ten times to the left and then ten times to the right, ready?” 

Sirius sucked in a nervous breath, he hadn’t moved his ankle in months, his mind flitted through images of it breaking again upon the first movement and being sent right back to the hospital. He closed his eyes, pushing all the thoughts from his brain, and took a deep breath. This was Remus, he was with Remus, Remus would never let that happen. “Yeah, I’m ready.” 

Remus started to slowly move Sirius’s foot. He was right, it wasn’t comfortable. He felt like his ankle joint had rusted, he could practically hear the groaning of metal as it moved. It freaked him out a little bit. 

Remus seemed to see the slight panic on his face and started talking.   

“So, what do you usually do on Thursday nights at 7PM instead of hanging out with the coolest person you know while he awkwardly touches parts of your body?” Sirius laughed. He laughed like he never knew what sadness was. He laughed like he was alive, the breaths he dragged in after felt like his first. It was silly but he felt reborn in that fluorescent lighting sitting on a slightly sticky padded table. He could feel a page turn, a new chapter beginning. Remus beamed up at him. 

“Oh, you didn’t tell me Pots was here.” Sirius pretended to look around for James. Remus’s mouth dropped open in mock offense. 

“Jeez, tell me how you really feel. But really, what does Gryffindor Lions Captain Sirius Black get up to around this time of night.” 

“Before or after the ankle?” 

Remus shrugged. “Both.” 

Sirius thought for a moment. Remus had switched directions, he hadn’t noticed. “Hmm, well before the ankle I’d usually go down to the basement and skate, do drills, that type of stuff.” 

“You skate in your basement?!” 

“Yeah, I have a synthetic rink.” 

“Oh of course you do, you have a synthetic ice rink in your house. The most normal sentence to say to anybody, very casual.” 

Sirius blushed and bit back a smile. “Shut up! Anyways, now I usually review tape around this time of night.” Remus snorted. “I don’t know what you're laughing at, it's not funny.” Sirius couldn’t wipe the smile off his face if he tried. 

Remus peered up at Sirius cheekily. “It’s kind of funny.” 

“You're the worst.” Remus started to laugh out loud. “I want a new physical therapist.” 

“Too bad, you're stuck with me.” 

They fell into a surprisingly comfortable silence after that. Sirius was looking at the ceiling, counting the divots in each tile to keep himself from looking at Remus. He was sure once he looked at him again he’d never be able to stop. After a couple of minutes Remus spoke up again. 

“Do you have any other hobbies that occupy your time?” He sounded genuine now, like he really wanted to know instead of teasing. Sirius knew he shouldn’t, he couldn’t. This was a bad idea, he couldn’t look at Remus right now and open up to him. It would be lovely, entirely too lovely, and he would bleed when it inevitably got ripped away from him. Jump, his body screamed, Feel the wind in your hair as you fall. Sirius resisted the urge. What happens when I hit the ground? 

“Sirius?” Sirius closed his eyes at Remus’s voice. He was a goner, he’d been walking towards the edge of that cliff since the moment he saw those kind eyes in that press room. There’s only so long he could prolong the inevitable. Remus was the moon and he pulled Sirius towards him as easily as he would the tides. 

“Drawing,” Sirius coughed lightly, “I like to draw. I’m not good or anything, but I don’t know, I find it…soothing, I guess.” Sirius wound his fingers together, fidgeting in the intimacy of the moment. “I’ve never told anyone that before.” 

Remus was silent for a beat. “I’m honored.” 

He sounded earnest, like he really meant it and Sirius, Sirius was a fool. He looked up and immediately locked eyes with Remus, and those eyes. Remus was the moon, but his eyes were daylight. Sirius could feel the shadows in his mind being chased away under his gaze. It was addictive to feel like he was golden, like when Remus looked at him he sparkled. He wanted to curl up here, in the pooled sunshine Remus placed on the table. He could feel himself take another step towards the edge of the cliff. 

They went through the rest of the exercises with relative ease. Remus kept Sirius laughing and that made it easier, a tension had been worked out of his shoulders by the end of the session without Remus ever having to touch them. Remus handed him sheets of paper explaining his physical therapy workouts to do at home with some resistance bands. He only ribbed Sirius about making sure he actually did the exercises a little as he walked him out of the PT room. 

“You did good today Cap, I’m proud of you.” 

A blush spread over Sirius’s cheek at that. Sirius was favoring his good foot and still walking with a single crutch for support. He didn’t feel like it was something to be proud of, he couldn’t help the bolt of anxiety that suddenly flared up his spine. He caught Remus’s hand when he turned to leave. 

“Loops…what if, what if I don’t get better enough to play again?” Sirius swallowed, his throat felt like sandpaper. 

“I don’t think that’s going to happen, you're recovering beautifully.” 

Sirius closed his eyes, ducking his head a bit. “Okay, but if…if–” 

“If…it turns out you don't get there in the end,…I would still be proud of you.” Sirius’s eyes flashed open in disbelief and wonderment. Remus was smiling at him like it was the simplest truth in the world. “Good night, Cap.” Remus squeezed Sirius’s hand before letting go.

Sirius watched as Remus turned and walked down the hall to leave. “Bonne nuit,” he whispered breathlessly into the empty air. 

When Sirius left the building, he looked up at the moon and smiled.

#Remus Lupin #Sirius Black #coops #coops fanfic #lumosinlove #Sweater Weather #sweater weather fanfic #fluff #boys in love #pining #pre relationship #pre coops #gratuitous metaphors #physical therapy #injury #injury recovery #comfort #blushing #jokes #flirting #happy #pre canon #tooth rotting fluff #hazelnoot #hazelnoots #fanfiction #fanfic #original fanfic #original fanfiction #original work

[tobiasdrake]

So Rain Code has DLC to zero in on each of the non-Yuma detectives. Gonna play through these in order of release. Who do we start with? Let's see, that would be....

Goddammit. Desuhiko.

Okay, well. At least we can get him out of the way and then move on to the characters I like. Wonder if these take place before, after, or during the main game?

Well, we're opening at the Scary Zombie Rex Museum so that eliminates "before" as an option. Either the Secret of Kanai Ward investigation is currently ongoing or this is between Makoto's defeat and the Master Detectives leaving town.

Ooh, classic cat burglar mystery going on. So it looks like we'll have to stop this notorious thief from stealing the precious jewels. Okay, we can--

Nope, never mind, we failed. That was a short DLC. Alright, who's next on the list?

Alright, shouldn't be too hard to identify the Nine-Tailed Cat. As we can clearly see from this silhouette, our target is a naked man. Bizarre choice of aesthetic for a cat burglar, but I'm not going to judge.

Go, Nudist Thief, go!

...where do you think he stashed the jewel? Probably best not to think about that.

Again!? How often do naked men steal things on your watch!?

Desuhiko's over here proving my firmly-held belief that the word "again" is the funniest word in the English language.

Will you, though? Your skillset is in intelligence gathering. You're pretty much my last choice in fisticuffs, so I'm pretty sure anyone else on the team is better suited to apprehending our streaker.

Makoto agrees. When he was faking everyone's deaths, he had you die first. He knew there'd be no doubt about that.

I wouldn't call what Desuhiko has charisma. If he were charismatic, people would be willing to buy what he's selling. Instead, his role is one of constantly embarrassing himself for comic relief but with zero self-awareness of how cringe everyone else finds him. His behavior routinely makes him the butt of the joke.

Enthusiasm is how I'd describe Desuhiko. He has enthusiasm. Despite rejection after rejection after rejection, despite constantly failing to convince anyone or even himself that he's cool, Desuhiko never stops putting out a positive façade and trying again.

Oh hey, Yakou's sapient! That places us pretty firmly in the "during" timespan. We're somewhere between Desuhiko's arrival in town and Chapter 4.

The museum must be taking this pretty seriously. Amaterasu's isolation would make it difficult to procure new art pieces for display. Pretty much whatever they already had here plus anything new that the residents create, that's it.

So far as new gems go? Amaterasu doesn't do business within the city; People were talking about that in the epilogue. That's a problem because Amaterasu may have international reach, but they're the only part of Kanai Ward that does.

So good fucking luck getting gemstones here. It's not like Makoto's going to let anyone go out and open a mine somewhere.

That being said, our naked man has to be stealing for his own private collection, right? It's not like he can take the gems to a fence. I can't imagine Kanai Ward has a thriving black market. Why would someone even become a notorious serial burglar in an isolated city-state?

Unless this is a human burglar from outside the rain cage. In which case, WHOA HO HO did he come to the wrong city.

Okay, so their reputation extends to before the Blank Week. That makes a bit more sense. It's possible Kanai Ward had a black market before the isolation. Either way, the possibility of an aristocrat stealing for their own private collection remains as well.

That doesn't sound so bad, honestly. I'm glad Yuma's not on this case. A cat burglar who robs from museums hardly warrants a death feral regeneration sentence.

That's where the nudity comes in. It draws the eye away from the face, and that's if you don't look away immediately out of embarrassment. Brilliant, really.

Sorry, Desuhiko, but I think I'm on Team Kitsune. Robbing a megacorporation barely even constitutes a crime.

I AM 100% ON TEAM KITSUNE. Why would we even want to thwart these robberies? Desuhiko's pride? That and a dozen coins is worth 12 shien.

Oh, it is Desuhiko's pride at stake. I thought I was being dismissive.

Wow, I aggressively do not care about the stakes of this conflict. Let the Nine-Tailed Cat keep pissing in Yomi's corn flakes. It's not like they're hurting anyone.

Oh no, you're mentioned on the seventh paragraph here. "Yellow stranger spotted shaking fist impotently at the burglar."

Hey, I'm all for bagging on Yakou for being a shit detective. But this sounds a hell of a lot like Yomi's problem, not ours.

Yuma does enough of that shit as it is. Do you have any idea how frequently he nearly gets shot? The answer may surprise you.

This was all about impressing a girl. That makes sense. I am now even less invested in the stakes than I was before.

Sound advice, Yakou.

It's amazing how much less irritating his dismissive reluctance to do anything becomes when it's Desuhiko on the receiving end instead of Yuma.

Alas, as with Yuma and Kurumi, Yakou's greatest weakness in reining in his Detectives shows itself once again: His stern disapproval is no match for a brisk jogging pace.

At least we can be sure that didn't change when he turned feral. Yakou's speed has always maxed out at a shamble, so his zombie's barely changed in that regard.

#master detective archives: rain code #drake plays rain code #desuhiko thunderbolt

[wondernus]

𝐰𝐡𝐞𝐧 𝐰𝐞 𝐦𝐞𝐞𝐭 (preview) * ੈ✩‧₊˚

ෆ fic synopsis: kim mingyu’s trouble with luck makes you think you’re being played by him after failing to meet on every. single. date. what does it take for the two of you to finally meet in person? ෆ pairing: kmg x reader (gn) ෆ fic genre: humor, romance ෆ preview warnings: cursing, food ෆ preview wc: 1.6k (full fic is an estimated 7-15k) ෆ a/n: here is the preview to chapter one of another fic i'm excited to share with you all. this one is dedicated to the best boy and the awkward phase glow-ups. please lmk down below or in my asks/dms if you would like to be on the taglist - whatever you're most comfortable with! i'm aiming to post the full fic in june or july :0)

wondernus' main masterlist

chapter one: past (preview)

DK is positive that if he sneezed, the puff of air that shoots out of his nose would be strong enough to knock over the guy he is currently helping hold steady.

But Kim Mingyu – tall, lanky, and irrationally stubborn, refuses to accept help from his obviously more capable roommate. He stands on his makeshift stepladder and attempts to shimmy out his giant hard-shell suitcase he somehow managed to store at the top of his closet the day he moved into the dorm. However, the only thing Mingyu seems to be taking out of his closet is the dust that collected on top of his belongings, and DK is trying his very best not to sneeze.

Who would have thought that Kim Mingyu would be built like one of those wavy inflatable tube guys you see while driving past car dealerships on the highway? His little self-intro on the university roommates request page painted him to be an outgoing type of guy – likes photography, running, and dogs; dislikes people who are rude to waiters, bad vibes, and heights. His profile picture was an aesthetic photo of him in some art museum in Europe. Mingyu turned out to be exactly who and how he described himself. However, had DK or Minghao known their literal pre-serum Steve Roger roommate wasn’t who they thought him to physically be, they would’ve assigned him to the loft bed with the standing closet when they were deciding bedspaces before moving into their dorms.

Now, DK can only stand behind his roommate with his two hands gripped firmly around the wooden chair’s backrest and hope the suitcase doesn’t take his roommate out before the mosquitos from wherever Mingyu is heading do.

For starters, it’s hard to believe a college sophomore – one who has to sleep on the bottom bunk because the floor is closer to the humidifier – is going on a journey to some place where he probably couldn’t restock on his precious Aquaphor that he has to slug onto his cracked heels every night and then protect with his aloe-infused fluffy bed socks. Mingyu is physically weak. He is like a Basset Hound puppy who keeps tripping on its long ears because it still needs to grow into them. He is a Victorian child experiencing EDM for the first time. He is the school Wi-Fi when everybody is back from vacation. A Lego Man figurine is probably more built than Kim Mingyu in every single physical aspect – and that is not an overstatement.

And his luck – oh, how unlucky Kim Mingyu can be at times.

Minghao, their third roommate, tells him its puberty, but Kim Mingyu’s hardhead firmly believes he is the unluckiest man in the world. Puberty, Minghao reminds him. He’s simply going through puberty. It just doesn’t seem like it because his growth spurt arrived ages before his puberty did. Mingyu digresses.

It is a bunch of small, often uncomfortable or inconvenient, occurrences bundled into one that leads Mingyu to believe he has somehow been cursed. Setting off the fire alarm after using the new microwave in their floor’s common room? In reality, some kid snuck in an illegal rice cooker and forgot to open the window while cooking some rice. Sleeping past an alarm the day after he accidentally stepped on a crack in the sidewalk? He didn’t know he accidentally set his alarm as P.M. instead of A.M.. His clumsiness? He wears clothes in sizes either too big or too small for his body. He’s never heard of tailoring before.

Mingyu claims his curse started when he was dared to download an Ouija Board app on his phone on the bus ride home from one of his high school field trips. DK reminds him that where there is a cause, there is an effect. 

So, when Mingyu abruptly announces to his two roommates that he’s leaving in the middle of the semester for some Eat, Pray, Love type of trip with his rich aunt, the two roommates can only ask why and whether or not rent is going to be more expensive given that there would technically only be two roommates instead of three:

“I dunno-” Mingyu picks up his sub, trying to adjust his grip so the tomato slices don’t slip out when he takes a bite. “I think it’ll be a nice change.”

DK gawks at him while Minghao looks through his tote bag for a hair tie. Mingyu shrugs and brings the sandwich to his lips. A tomato slice slips out from the backend and lands on the ceramic plate. Mingyu sighs and sets his sandwich back down on his plate and opens it to tuck the tomato slice back into place.

The most level-headed of the trio, DK, stares at the guy who sleeps below him reattempt to take a successful bite of his sandwich. Minghao, whose long hair is now tied in a manbun, twirls his fork around his plate of spaghetti.

“You know it’s bad for your scalp if you tie your hair too tightly,” Mingyu gestures to his own head to show Minghao. There are bread crumbs in the corner of his lips, and some sauce on his fingers. He brings his fingers to his mouth and licks them clean before taking another bite.

Minghao ignores him and stares outside the window at the family of ducks making their way into the shade outside of the dormitory dining hall.

A nice change is what newly divorced couples say in movies. A nice change is giving your childhood bedroom a makeover. A nice change is when Mingyu finally takes off his damn braces so he doesn’t spit on people while he talks. DK reckons it’s because Mingyu is having trouble adjusting to adulthood. He’s a second-year going through what Minghao calls a “prolonged puberty experience,” but DK thinks that all Mingyu needs is time. He has the braces, the lisp, and the inability to act normal in front of crushes. It’s normal. Everybody moves at their own pace. All Mingyu needs is a little confidence and a major glow-up.  

“You said you’re going with your aunt?” DK pinches a fry between his fingers and decides to drop it back down. “What about our dorm and school?”

Outside, a Resident Director leads a group of elementary school students on a tour around the dormitory area. The students look around the several tall dormitories and point at the ducks when they see them. The teachers who walk behind their students are too busy staring at their phones to care if the students chase after the animals.

“Hey, do you think ducks are easy to pick up?” Xu Minghao gently sets his fork down and cups his hands, placing them side-by-side. He looks at his imaginary bowl, “They look like they’ll fit perfectly in my hands, yunno. Perfectly scoopable.”

“My aunt isn’t married and doesn’t have any kids so she says she’ll give me her money if I travel with her,” Mingyu chews with his mouth open and pauses to wash it down with some milk. He exhales and wipes his mouth with the back of his hand. “Something about going on a journey to prove that material wealth isn’t all there is in the world.”

Having lost his appetite, DK pushes his plate of fries away from him. He asks Mingyu, “Isn’t it counterproductive because you need money to travel the world?”

“Ehh,” Mingyu slinks in his seat, but reaches over to grab some of the abandoned fries. “But don’t worry about my grades. I’ll be studying abroad and will probably be back in time for graduation. Hopefully my credits can transfer. And my aunt is paying for my dorm so you guys don’t have to worry about paying more.”

“And the school is okay with you paying even through you’re not going to be here?”

“Universities don’t care as long as they’re earning money,” Minghao huffs and stabs a meatball with his fork. “But God forbid I take more than three free yoga classes at the rec center and all of a sudden I’m banned for the rest of the month.”

A new group of friends set their bags down at the table next to where the trio are sitting. One of them seems to recognize DK and politely waves at him before catching up with their friends to line up for food. DK smiles and waves back – he only met them a few days ago.

“I- I think taking that trip will be good for me,” Mingyu stutters when he realizes he has been staring at DK’s friend the entire time. His eyes quickly travel back to looking at his best friend’s fries. He fidgets his fingers before reaching for another one, “Maybe I can meet some new people, learn a few things, and bulk up from all the traveling I’ll be doing.”

Minghao opens the dorm door and enters with a duck tucked under his arm, American football style. He makes his way over to his desk and drops off a few textbooks. DK swears the duck looked at him straight in the eye.

“Yn said you should come to the beach hangout on Saturday,” he tells DK while grabbing his water bottle and yoga mat.

“I’ll think about it,” DK is still staring at the duck who seems perfectly content with being held by the Second Year.

Minghao shrugs and swings the mat over his shoulder. The duck quacks, and Minghao waves goodbye before exiting their shared room. Mingyu, who successfully managed to start pulling out his suitcase from an angle, sneezes and pushes it back into place.  

taglist: @jiminismybabymochi, @anissanightyoung, @bat-shark-repellant, @woozarts, @jaycheoluwu, @staysstrays, @soobin-chois

#very sorry for making mingyu a milk-drinking fiend #seventeen imagines #seventeen x reader #seventeen au #seventeen fluff #mingyu imagines #mingyu au #mingyu x reader #mingyu x yn #svt au #seventeen fic #mingyu fluff #mingyu imagine

[yessoupy]

harry, i love u. (part 1)

but more to the point, i love my harriatrics.

i am home, emotionally exhausted, physically ill, and still awaiting my delayed luggage to be delivered, but here is my slane and wembley 1+2+3 review.

i spent a few days roaming around counties clare and galway prior to linking up with the ladies in dublin for slane. straight off the plane i hired a car and drove to the west. i needed to kill some more time before checking into my airbnb so i hit the cliffs of moher (again) because it was SUNNY and DRY. it turns out, the west is/was in a drought. dust everywhere.

my airbnb this time around was in fanore. perfect for one person and a nice location for what i like to do. my next day i took the doolin ferry to inishmore and rented an e-bike. rode around the island, had a lovely lunch of a salad and a coke, and hiked up to dun aonghase where it was WINDY and i almost lost my tourist hat but i have catlike reflexes. view from the fort:

aran goat cheese salad:

kilmurvey beach, where i did not get in but will next time for sure:

on my final full day, i went to the doolin cave to see the third-largest stalactite in the world. the scale is hard to convey in a picture:

it was really cool! literally and figuratively. also a pleasant 95% humidity which i needed because it was SO DRY the whole time i was there.

on saturday morning i lit out from the west and dropped my car off at the airport, then got a taxi to the hotel to meet up for the rest of my harries for breakfast. @papiermachecat did a great job of summarizing that except she left me out, which i'm not bitter about at all. lol.

marathon did a great job of organizing all of us to get to and from slane. here is an employee manning the coach pickup:

here's mitch opening!

annie mac in the "rain"!

wet leg!

inhaler!

and our boy!

it's hard to convey the size of the crowd. i took some pictures, but i'm sure you've seen overhead shots that are much better. knowing about the historical nature of slane shows ... i'm so glad i got to be there with some of my very best fandom friends. also, much like the men of easy company would say, "at least it's not bastogne" whenever they had a cold winter, after every trek home post-show we can all say "at least it's not slane."

the day after the show, @chasm2018, @aggresivelyfriendly, and i walked around dublin. we had dinner at the bank which was cool, and i got some very good fish and chips:

dublin put on a show for us, sunny and warm:

we tried to find ice cream and failed:

but eventually ended up at instagrammable cloud nine and it was very good, will try the gelato in july. no pics, because ice cream.

one environmentally regrettable thing about the impact of the 2021 grammy outfit are the molting boas. here is the day-after shot of where the coaches let us off in dublin:

after a final breakfast at our hotel (my eggs florentine below), we took a (delayed) flight to london.

my relationship with london is .... like yes, there are cool old buildings but i hate the monarchy? the one thing i wanted to do in london besides see harry was go to the british museum, which we did on our off-day. anyway. @chasm2018 and i stayed at an airbnb in fitzrovia. we had a late lunch/early dinner at wahaca (yes i know) which was surprisingly good! the rainbow bowl:

(i took a lot of food pictures for my dad and sisters, so this is what you get too i guess.)

me in front of wembley!

wembley 1 saw us in bishopsgate, which was a much smaller pod than at slane. @chasm2018 and i helped to remove an interloper (some guy who was being obnoxious and bragging about sneaking into the pod who didn't end up having a ticket at all?). look don't brag about sneaking in AND be obnoxious.

harry was incredible, of course, and when i have the energy to go through the pictures on my camera (this is ALL from my phone) i will share those with you.

london was done up for pride month:

on wednesday, @chasm2018 and i got bottomless chai (chocolate chai pictured) at dishoom and gorged on indian food.

also apparently that night (or the next? idk) my platonic baseball soulmate spent 3 hours behind olivia in line for that restaurant. she was offered a pass to go to the front of the line but refused it! what a woman.

idk what this was but it looked neat and that far building looks suspiciously like the dorm in maynooth that looks like a prison on the inside.

for wednesday's show i had seats with my friend from the leadership conference i do in ireland, so i entered separately and hanging out by the red zone was this guy

our boy was ALSO great during night 2, from the seats:

he played love of my life and i just love YELLING that at him!!!! from the seats I got a better idea of just how fucking massive the crowd is, and how full of love the stadium is when he plays. more of that later.

post-show activities included leftover indian (wow was it spicier) and harry talking to zane lowe about absolutely nothing.

thursday we had afternoon tea at the savoy (fucking delicious) with @accidentalharrie and went to the british museum to see things stolen from other places. this included THE rosetta stone (wild) and bits of the parthenon.

i really do love a greek vase!!! they can be so funny, like this one with drunk satyrs:

on the reverse is a .... kylix-stand?

she!

by friday, the hay fever had put me into quite a state. i was a bit of a drag!! we walked around the tower of london and westminster abbey. goddddddd i hate tourists so much.

here's white tower, the oldest bit of the tower of london, built by william the conqueror. my 27th great grandfather invaded england with william, so we're like family. lol.

notice not a cloud in the sky. so much sun and no rain which means .... every bit of pollen was in the air, wreaking havoc.

and i'm out of room for photos, so hang on for part 2.

#slane review #wembley reviews #my show #obvs i'm being hyperbolic by comparing bastogne to slane