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writetomyheart2015-10-19 11:59 pm
bluedreaming) wrote in writetomyheart2015-10-19 11:59 pm
[team sonic] the old times // rum pa pa pum (2)
the old times
First words from sun through the clouds.
Title from It All Feels Right by Washed Out.
Inspired (very loosely) by this gif of Jimin and Tony from AHL.
Excited is definitely not how Alfred feels, looking at the pile of books waiting on the table, coffee in hand, a venti americano already cooling by the second. His stomach rumbles, and he's not sure if he's hungry or he's regretting the last hamburger—I knew that McDonald's was a bad idea—as he runs his hand over his eyes and sits down.
Dust flies up as he cracks the first book open, and he can't help but sneeze, even as the librarian looks up from the computer, lines of text reflected on her glasses as she glares at him over the rims and Alfred shrinks down apologetically, hunching his shoulders.
I guess I'd better get this over with, he thinks, even though there's no real getting over something that will take at least the whole night, if not longer. By the time he's on the second page, his eyes are already swimming and he's half considering checking the books out and lugging them home, even if only for the better reading light he has on his desk in his apartment. The library lights are too slow, flickering red and blue in the whites of the page as he flips them, letting the book cascade shut.
He's just about to stand up, stretch and try not to scream or think about how nice it would be to take a jog outside in the moonlight, when he notices the person sitting at the table next to him. Alfred hadn't noticed him before, the stack of books in the way, but now that he's standing there's something about the young man that catches his eye.
He's tiny, Alfred thinks, and it's only when the young man, and undergrad by the looks of it and his university sweatshirt, looks up that he realizes he said it out loud. Oops. He must be more tired that he thought. He's just about to mumble an apology, slink away to the mezzanine or something, when he sees what the undergrad is looking at.
"Wait," Alfred says, forgetting to be quiet in the non-speaking area, and it's only when the librarian coughs that he remembers, quickly pulling out a pencil and scrawling a message on a scrap of paper which he then passes to the young man, who's wearing a bemused expression.
Hi I'm Alfred! You're taking Eastern European history too?
The young man reads over the paper before looking up, a small smile on his face as he turns the paper over and scribbles a response.
Hi! I'm Jimin! Actually I'm an art student but I'm taking this as an elective.
Jimin grins apologetically, and Alfred would be a little disappointed, after all his department is pretty small, but for some reason he's happy just to be smiling here, right now, at Jimin, who's smiling back.
rum pa pa pum
First words from You're not to know how I worry.
Title from Man Down by Rihanna.
Inspired by a series of tweets. 1 ■, 2 ■, 3 & 4 ■
Submission isn't Taemin's style. Neither is waking up to the cupboards empty of coffee cups, after he's pried himself out of bed, squint-eyed against the sun, dumped coffee into the French press and only managed to spill a few tablespoons of the course grind on the counter and floor, poured the hot water over and waiting the requisite time, pressing the filter down, only to find the kitchen empty of cups.
"Taehyung," he calls, voice still rough with sleep. "Where the fuck are the coffee cups?" He knows it's not the best good morning, but he's tired and went to bed far too late, and all he wants is some coffee.
It's a good thing that it takes a lot more than a few misplaced curse words, as Taehyung bounces in from the office, grin on his face that's almost too bright in the sunlight streaming through the window glass, and Taemin feels like he's lost control of the situation several minutes ago, because Taehyung is drinking coffee from a bowl.
A bowl.
Taemin is usually a match for Taehyung but today he's at a distinct disadvantage, half asleep and groggy.
"Today the weather is particularly muggy," Taehyung says, and takes another sip of coffee. Taemin just stands in the middle of the kitchen, bare feet on the blue and white tiles and blinks. The loser is the one who loses their cool.
"If I look out the window and see the coffee cups all over the lawn or something. . ." Taemin begins, and Taehyung just starts laughing, almost spilling his coffee.
"You should see your face!" he laughs, pointing. "And no, I didn't put the mugs on the lawn."
"Okay, good," Taemin says, probably prematurely as he considers his next question. "But where are they?"
Taehyung doesn't reply, just sets his coffee down on the counter, there's a soft crunch of grinds on the surface, and steers Taemin towards the back door.
There, hanging from the trees, are all the coffee cups hung up individually by strings.
"Like I said," Taehyung says, "Today is a muggy kind of day."
First words from sun through the clouds.
Title from It All Feels Right by Washed Out.
Inspired (very loosely) by this gif of Jimin and Tony from AHL.
Alfred Enoch/Jimin; G; 467 words
Excited is definitely not how Alfred feels, looking at the pile of books waiting on the table, coffee in hand, a venti americano already cooling by the second. His stomach rumbles, and he's not sure if he's hungry or he's regretting the last hamburger—I knew that McDonald's was a bad idea—as he runs his hand over his eyes and sits down.
Dust flies up as he cracks the first book open, and he can't help but sneeze, even as the librarian looks up from the computer, lines of text reflected on her glasses as she glares at him over the rims and Alfred shrinks down apologetically, hunching his shoulders.
I guess I'd better get this over with, he thinks, even though there's no real getting over something that will take at least the whole night, if not longer. By the time he's on the second page, his eyes are already swimming and he's half considering checking the books out and lugging them home, even if only for the better reading light he has on his desk in his apartment. The library lights are too slow, flickering red and blue in the whites of the page as he flips them, letting the book cascade shut.
He's just about to stand up, stretch and try not to scream or think about how nice it would be to take a jog outside in the moonlight, when he notices the person sitting at the table next to him. Alfred hadn't noticed him before, the stack of books in the way, but now that he's standing there's something about the young man that catches his eye.
He's tiny, Alfred thinks, and it's only when the young man, and undergrad by the looks of it and his university sweatshirt, looks up that he realizes he said it out loud. Oops. He must be more tired that he thought. He's just about to mumble an apology, slink away to the mezzanine or something, when he sees what the undergrad is looking at.
"Wait," Alfred says, forgetting to be quiet in the non-speaking area, and it's only when the librarian coughs that he remembers, quickly pulling out a pencil and scrawling a message on a scrap of paper which he then passes to the young man, who's wearing a bemused expression.
Hi I'm Alfred! You're taking Eastern European history too?
The young man reads over the paper before looking up, a small smile on his face as he turns the paper over and scribbles a response.
Hi! I'm Jimin! Actually I'm an art student but I'm taking this as an elective.
Jimin grins apologetically, and Alfred would be a little disappointed, after all his department is pretty small, but for some reason he's happy just to be smiling here, right now, at Jimin, who's smiling back.
rum pa pa pum
First words from You're not to know how I worry.
Title from Man Down by Rihanna.
Inspired by a series of tweets. 1 ■, 2 ■, 3 & 4 ■
Taemin/Taehyung; PG; 351 words
Submission isn't Taemin's style. Neither is waking up to the cupboards empty of coffee cups, after he's pried himself out of bed, squint-eyed against the sun, dumped coffee into the French press and only managed to spill a few tablespoons of the course grind on the counter and floor, poured the hot water over and waiting the requisite time, pressing the filter down, only to find the kitchen empty of cups.
"Taehyung," he calls, voice still rough with sleep. "Where the fuck are the coffee cups?" He knows it's not the best good morning, but he's tired and went to bed far too late, and all he wants is some coffee.
It's a good thing that it takes a lot more than a few misplaced curse words, as Taehyung bounces in from the office, grin on his face that's almost too bright in the sunlight streaming through the window glass, and Taemin feels like he's lost control of the situation several minutes ago, because Taehyung is drinking coffee from a bowl.
A bowl.
Taemin is usually a match for Taehyung but today he's at a distinct disadvantage, half asleep and groggy.
"Today the weather is particularly muggy," Taehyung says, and takes another sip of coffee. Taemin just stands in the middle of the kitchen, bare feet on the blue and white tiles and blinks. The loser is the one who loses their cool.
"If I look out the window and see the coffee cups all over the lawn or something. . ." Taemin begins, and Taehyung just starts laughing, almost spilling his coffee.
"You should see your face!" he laughs, pointing. "And no, I didn't put the mugs on the lawn."
"Okay, good," Taemin says, probably prematurely as he considers his next question. "But where are they?"
Taehyung doesn't reply, just sets his coffee down on the counter, there's a soft crunch of grinds on the surface, and steers Taemin towards the back door.
There, hanging from the trees, are all the coffee cups hung up individually by strings.
"Like I said," Taehyung says, "Today is a muggy kind of day."