Freshly-washed-hair

Jack falls asleep like that, head nestled on the pillow in Bitty’s lap, the smile on his face as relaxed and content as Bitty has ever seen it.

The storm outside is unrelenting, but Bitty just hums softly to himself and cards his fingers through Jack’s hair again. This moment in time is not only perfect, but also the perfect metaphor for their relationship.

Jack is coming out next week.

Bitty is coming out to his parents tomorrow.

The storm rages, the windowpanes rattling against the onslaught, but Bitty is too happy, too confident of his place here in this tiny universe that belongs to him and Jack alone, to let it bother him.

“You are the best thing I have ever done,” he whispers.

Slowly, Jack reaches one hand up to trail gentle fingertips across the back of Bitty’s neck. He smiles softly, and, though his eyes are still closed, it is very obvious he’s no longer asleep.

“I think that’s my line,” he whispers back. And then shifts a little so that his nose nuzzles into Bitty’s abdomen as he slips back into semi-consciousness.

“I love you,” Bitty says.

He can feel Jack’s lazy smile through the thin fabric of his t-shirt.

“My love is too big for words,” Jack mumbles, definitely falling back asleep now. Bitty breathes a quiet laugh. “You are the best thing… the best… that I have ever let myself have.”

The downpour outside picks up. Bitty has no illusions about how much the rest of the world is very soon going to do exactly the same in regards to his relationship.

But he closes his eyes and focuses on the feeling of Jack’s freshly washed hair between his fingers. He focuses on loving this boy with his whole heart, on how easy that is to do, and on how loved he feels in return.

The storm outside has never looked less scary.

Kate is that mum who turns up to the school gates in a perfectly prepared ensemble with freshly washed hair. Her children always say please and thank you. She bakes pies and always has flowers in a vase and a full fruit bowl. Basically the exact opposite of how I would be as a mother

Jack Maynard Imagine - Parents know best

You opened your eyes, taking a few minutes to let them adjust to the sunlight. Lately, falling asleep while on car rides had become a common thing for you. You looked right to see Jack with his eyes fixed on the road, oblivious to the fact that you had woken up.

You yawned and rubbed your eyes before feeling a hand on your leg “Slept well?” he asked, as he looked briefly at you before giving you a small smile.

“Not bad” you said, looking at the GPS and seeing that you were twenty minutes away from Brighton.

Your best friend Jack had convinced - dragged - you to go to Brighton with him for the weekend. All your other close friends in London were back in their hometowns visiting their families, so you had nothing better to do. You weren’t in the mood to spend a whole weekend at home by yourself, anyway.

You had met Jack’s sister, Anna, before. A few months ago, she had stayed at Jack and Conor’s new apartment for the weekend, and the two of you immediately clicked. She reminded you so much of Jack, it was unreal. His parents, however, were a mystery to you. Conor couldn’t go with you, so at least you hoped Anna wasn’t away at a friend’s house or something: spending the weekend with Jack and his parents would just be too awkward.

But you thought you didn’t have reasons to be nervous about it. You weren’t Jack’s girlfriend, and you didn’t need to pass any kind of test to get his parents’ approval. Yet, it seemed to you as if you were slowly driving to death.

“Is Anna at home?” you eventually asked Jack, who was taking a sip of his fizzy drink.

“Yeah, I believe so” he answered “Why’d you ask?”

You shrugged “Just wanted to see her” you said, which wasn’t exactly a total lie. At least you knew there would be five of you.

Eventually, you pulled into Jack’s parents’ driveway, and you took a long while to admire the outside of his house. It reminded you so much of your own, you kind of wished your parents hadn’t booked that last-minute trip to Spain so you could visit them instead. However, when a young girl exited the house and walked towards your car, a bright smile on her face, your homesickness went away rather quickly.

“Y/N!” she called you as you opened the door to give her a hug. She wrapped her arms around your torso as you rested your chin on her head, a sudden smell of freshly washed hair hitting your nose.

“How are you, girl?” you asked her, mimicking the contagious smile on her face.

“I have so many things to tell you” she said excitedly, and you gave her that look girls gave each other when a juicy topic was about to come up. She nodded, as if she had read your mind, and you laughed.

“Hello Jack, my beloved and ridiculously hot brother, it’s nice to see you too” Jack said, imitating Anna’s voice, as he walked towards you with two bags on his hands.

Anna laughed and went to give her brother a hug “I’ve missed you as well, dickhead” the girl said. Jack rolled his eyes, but kissed the top of her head afterwards. You took your bag from his hands and walked into the Maynard household.

His parents turned out to be more than delighted with your presence. They confessed having watched your YouTube videos, and having burst out laughing more than once. The feeling of awkwardness you thought you’d have earlier, vanished as soon as they both pulled you into a hug.

Jack turned out to be the embarrassed one. As soon as you went upstairs to Anna’s bedroom for a quick catch-up, both of his parents had gone up to him, a suspicious smile on their faces.

“What?” Jack chuckled as he looked up at them from the sofa, his cat purring as he stroked her side.

“We really like Y/N” his mum said, taking a seat next to him. He already knew something was up. He gave them a look “I mean, we already liked her when we saw her on your videos, but she’s even nicer in person”

“Yeah…” Jack said, suspiciously. He let out another nervous laugh “Where are you going with his?” The silly smile on his face couldn’t go away. Whenever someone talked about you, his features immediately softened, and his lips curved up in a not so subtle smile.

“We are just saying” his dad spoke, his hands inside his pockets. Jack could tell he was nervous, because Conor did the exact same thing when something was on his mind “That she’s a really good influence for you. She seems sweet and down-to-eart, that’s all”

The cat jumped off the sofa, making Jack cross his arms “I’m…I’m glad you like her” Jack felt uncomfortable. Although you weren’t his girlfriend, you were the first girl Jack had ever brought home, friends and all. His parents were rather surprised when they saw you two got along so well, remaining just friends up to that day. Because for them, it was so obvious that their little boy had more than friendly feelings towards you, and they were surprised he hadn’t made a move yet.

“We do” his mum said, nodding happily “So, does she have a boyfriend or something?” she asked, trying to sound cool and casual, but she failed.

“Mum, I know where you’re going” Jack said, not being able to supress a laugh “Just drop it”

She gave her husband a knowing look. He nodded “Jack” he said “It’s fine if you like her, buddy. Your mum and I started off as good friends as well, it’s okay to admit it”

Jack’s heart skipped a beat, and he stood up abruptly “I’m going for a walk” he said, ready to leave, when his dad grabbed his arm “Buddy” his voice was friendly, yet firm. Jack stopped on his tracks.

He didn’t want to talk about it with his parents. Y/N was the first girl he had ever fallen for, and he was scared. He was sure that if he kept telling himself that he didn’t lilke her like that, his feelings would go away. But love didn’t work like that.

He turned his head to look at his parents, and after a long silence, he spoke again “I’m afraid I’d hurt her if I tell her” it came out as rather a whisper, but  his parents heard him perfectly.

His mum immediately pulled him into a hug, rubbing his back “Don’t be silly, Jack, please” she said, feeling the sadness on her son’s voice “Don’t you see how happy you make her?”

“I make her happy as a friend” Jack kept his voice low in case Anna and you decided to come downstairs “I’ve never had a girlfriend, I’m not good with feelings, I-”

“But there must be a reason why you like this girl so much, more than any other” his dad interrupted him. 

At that moment, Jack didn’t stop to think. He poured his feelings right there, in front of his parents, in a way he thought he’d never be able to do “I love how she’s so laid-back and crazy, yet she knows when to be serious” he blurted out “She’s also really funny, there has not been a day she hasn’t made me laugh. She’s sensible, and she takes care of me when I’m sick, which happens like, every day” he chuckled. His eyes were fixed on the floor “I don’t know, I just think I don’t deserve her, like, I’d just break her heart because I’m a fucking idiot”

“You don’t sound like an idiot when you talk about her” his mum said, grabbing his hand “Jack, the fact that you’ve never cared about a girl enough to stick with her doesn’t mean you’ll never be able to do it”

“In fact, you’ve done it already” his father added.

“Do you really think you’d hurt her?” his mum asked him “Because Conor told me not long ago that you almost got into a fist fight with a random guy at a club because he was all over her” 

Jack frowned “He told you?”

“It doesn’t matter, baby” his mum said, shaking her head “What matters is you look after her, and that’s no behaviour for someone who’d only hurt her if he’s with her”

Jack stayed silent for a moment, then nodded his head. His eyes were fixed on the floor again, too embarrassed by the topic to look at his parents “I like taking care of her” he said, almost whispering “And I’ve never felt that before for anyone”

His dad went up to him and clapped his back. There was no denying Jack was growing up, and his parents were glad it was because of such a lovely, kind-hearted girl “Why don’t you take her out for dinner tonight?” he suggested.

Suddenly, Anna and you irrumpted into the room, stopping abruptly at the sight of Jack with his parents “Did we interrupt something?” Anna asked, as she wasn’t used to see her brother looking so puppy-like. Soft eyes were uncommon for Jack, or so she thought.

“No, it’s fine, sweetheart” her mum said, smiling brightly at both of you “We were just catching up”

“We were as well” Anna said, turning her head to look at you. She winked “I was just about to ask Y/N when she was marrying Jack” she joked, making you blush.

“Anna, don’t be rude” her dad said, but he couldn’t deny he was amused by the situation. 

“It’s not like we were gonna invite you anyway” Jack spoke, putting an arm casually around your shoulders. He was back to his own sassy self again. Anna stuck her tongue at her brother before following her parents’ track to the kitchen area.

You then felt Jack’s lips pressed against the side of your head, a huge comfort speading inside your body. You loved when he did that “Wanna go out for dinner tonight?” he asked you, catching you off-guard “Just you and me”

You looked up at him, a small smile forming on your lips “Sounds great”

Anna entered the living room again, coughing as she walked past you “Wedding” she said after fakingly clearing her voice. Jack extended an arm to push her, and she ran away, laughing uncontrollably. 

“You’re not allowed to be the godmother to our children either” 

“And they’ll be bloody gorgeous” you added, making Jack push you  playfully as well. 

“They’ll just be weird if you’re their mum” Jack joked.

“You’ll love them anyways” you teased back.

“I love anything that has to do with you” he said, pulling you in for a hug.

“You’re stupid” you said, your head resting on his pounding chest.

“Shut up, Mrs. Maynard”

“What makes you think I’m taking your last name?”

“You love me way too much?” you hit him again. He grabbed your hands and put them around his neck. He planted a soft kiss on the tip of your nose

You smiled softly, still not used to all the things that boy made you feel “Maybe I do”

Peppered Kisses

Characters: Jimin x Reader
Genre: Fluff (so much fluff I’m drowning in it)
Word count: 1598 words
Requested by anon

A/N: Finally, Admin Caramel’s first scenario on this blog! I took a break in-between revision and just wanted to write this request (cuz I’m a sucker for fluff)

We will get to the other requests eventually, but it won’t be soon as we’re busy with school and life (Admin Dumpling and I are about to do our exams) - Admin Caramel


It was late at night and you were seated on the couch with a book in your hand, curled up under a blanket with a cup of hot chocolate on the coffee table. You heard the door opening, but paid no attention to it, too engrossed in the plot to allow any distractions. It is only when you felt a heavy weight land on the couch did you finally look up.

You see Jimin sprawled across the entirety of the couch, with his head on your lap, looking up at you with tired eyes.

“Hey,” he tiredly greeted you. You noticed his hair was slightly damp with sweat, his shirt soaked from the intense dance practice they just had.

“Ew, get off of me Jimin,” you shrieked, not wanting to dirty the blankets or yourself.

“You stink,” you continued, attempting to push him off your lap and the couch. But to your dismay, his dead weight refused to budge no matter how hard you tried to push him. Seeing that your efforts were futile, he simply whined and latched onto you, burrowing himself in to your stomach.

You giggled at the ticklish feeling, and once again tried to push him off. He only latched tighter onto you, unwilling to let you go.

“Come on, let me go and I’ll draw you a bath,” you suggested with a smile on your face at his antics. It was only then was he willing to let you go,  but not without making you promise to cuddle with him after his bath.

Keep reading

Ted Bundy’s Psychiatric Report by Emanuel Tanay, MD.

Emanuel Tanay was a Forensic Psychiatrist and a  Clinical Professor of Psychiatry at the Wayne State University Medical School in Detroit. In 1979, Michael Minerva, Ted Bundy’s public defender contacted him about the Chi Omega case. On May 18, 1979, Emanuel Tanay examined Ted Bundy and forwarded his report to Minerva (taken from Tanay’s book, American Legal Injustice) : 

Mr. Bundy is a 32-year-old, handsome-looking man, dressed with the casual elegance of a young college professor. He was meticulously groomed, from well-cared-for fingernails to freshly washed hair. He was in total command of the situation. The deputy sheriffs appeared more like part of his entourage than policemen guarding a prisoner.

The conference room had many comfortable chairs. Two chairs, however, were particularly comfortable looking; these were taken by the deputies into the hallway for their own use. Mr. Bundy, in a very firm but definite manner, instructed the deputies that this arrangement did not meet with his approval. They not only complied with his request to return the chairs, but seemed to be apologetic.

I was accompanied to the conference room by Mr. Minerva, Public Defender for the Second Judicial Circuit, who has a large staff of lawyers working for him. Observing the interaction, however brief, between Mr. Bundy and Mr. Minerva would lead one to believe that Mr. Minerva was Mr. Bundy’s assistant.

Mr. Bundy made a few pointed inquiries to Mr. Minerva about certain work to be done and made a few polite but firm suggestions as to future work. In my brief visit prior to the examination to the offices of the Public Defender, I heard a lawyer whose name I don’t know telling Mr. Minerva that he did go to visit Mr. Bundy in jail but never did have a chance to speak to him because Mr. Bundy was busy on the phone. Based upon various observations, I have reached the impression that the Public Defender’s office is dominated, to a large degree, by the issues and controversies involving Mr. Bundy’s case.

At the outset of the interview, Mr. Bundy commented upon the security precautions, saying that they were the result of ‘the Bundy mystique’ that has developed as a result of news media activities. This was presented in the manner of a complaint; it was, however, my impression that Mr. Bundy was taking pride in his celebrity status.

In the nearly three hours that I spent with Mr. Bundy, I found him to be in a cheerful, even jovial mood. He was witty but not flippant. He spoke freely, but meaningful communication was never established. [Bundy treated me as if I were another news media personality and not a psychiatrist who might assist his lawyers in defending him.] I asked about his apparent lack of concern that was so out of keeping with the charges facing him. He acknowledged that he is facing a possible death sentence. However, he said, ‘I will cross that bridge when I get to it.’

In contrast to the eloquence that Mr. Bundy displays when talking about abstract matters, particularly those related to his case, he has little interest in discussing his past life history or his interpersonal relationships.

His early childhood was fatherless, he is an illegitimate child. At the age of five he acquired a step-father who appears to have made a minimal impact upon him. He professes no difficulties in childhood or adolescence and specifically denies any type of antisocial activities. When confronted with the information contained in the file that as an adolescent he was involved in forging skiing tickets, he gives a detailed account of that particular venture. He described this enterprise with laughter and obvious delight. He does admit the irrefutable, like his stealing of cars, credit card misuse, etc.; however, this occurred only after his ‘unjust’ conviction in Utah for kidnapping, and according to Mr. Bundy, is to be attributed to the influence of his fellow inmates.

Stealing and forgery were completely alien to him prior to his incarceration. [It is typical that he presents information that, with his intelligence, he must know I would find not credible. When I present him with evidence to the contrary, he readily admits his misrepresentation and fabricates another explanation.]

His presentation of the evidence in the Utah kidnapping case against him is psychiatrically significant for diagnostic purposes. At first he presents it in a manner which places him in the role of being the victim of a gross miscarriage of justice perpetrated by a prejudiced judge. He was convicted because he drove a Volkswagen, and the perpetrator of the kidnapping drove a Volkswagen also. [He omitted that additional identifying items irrefutably connected to the crime were also found in his Volkswagen.]

However, when Mr. Bundy becomes aware of the fact that I am familiar with evidence used during that trial, he rationalizes away every piece of evidence that linked him to the crime. The victim described a crowbar, pantyhose, handcuffs, and other items [which were found in his Volkswagen]. It just so happened by a fluke that Mr. Bundy, at the time of his arrest, had all of the above items and was also identified by the victim. Mr. Bundy is unable to recognize the significance of evidence held against him.

It would be simplistic to characterize this as merely lying, in as much as he acts as if his perception of the insignificance of the evidence was real. He makes decisions based upon these distorted perceptions of reality. Furthermore, he maintains an attitude and mood consistent with his perception of reality, namely, he is neither concerned nor distressed in what would be an appropriate behavior, given the charges facing him.

The interactions of Mr. Bundy with the police and the whole criminal justice system have been discussed at length with him and his attorneys. It is my opinion, based upon a variety of data, that his dealings with the criminal justice system are dominated by psychopathology.

Transcripts of the many hours of his conversations with police officers constitute a variety of a ‘confession.’ When this is pointed out to him by me, he does not dispute my inference; he merely provides a different justification. Whatever the explanation, the consequences of the verbal games that Mr. Bundy played with investigators were counterproductive to his defense and occurred against the advice of his counsel. [Bundy was primarily interested in keeping the interaction with the police going; therefore, from time to time, he offered them some juicy tidbit to keep their interest.]

Mr. Bundy “confessed” to the crimes while maintaining his innocence. The intellectual denials and emotional admissions are quite apparent from the tapes and transcripts of his conversations with the investigators. The same attitude was maintained during the interview with me. … Thus it could be argued that Mr. Bundy does have a factual understanding of the proceedings, but lacks a rational understanding of what is facing him. [The needs of the moment dominate what he does. The consequences play a secondary role.]

The interview, the conference with defense counsel, and the document material reviewed show that Mr. Bundy functions in the role of ‘chief counsel,’ and the public defender has been consistently manipulated into the role of ‘associate counsel.’

Mr. Bundy makes motions in open court, passes judgment in open court on adequacy of legal research of points raised by the defense, and schedules depositions that sometimes conflict with plans made by his defense attorneys.

In his decision-making process, Mr. Bundy is guided by his emotional needs, sometimes to the detriment of his legal interests. Mr. Bundy’s pathological need to defy authority and to manipulate his associates and adversaries supplies him with ‘thrills’ to the detriment of his ability to cooperate with his counsel.

Mr. Bundy’s activities are damaging and disruptive to a great many people who come in contact with him, in whatever capacity. This fact in itself would be of little relevance to the issue of ability to stand trial. However, the same activities are also, in some instances, self-destructive and represent an interference with his defense.

Whether the defendant is mentally fit to assume the role of a defendant presumably should have some bearing upon the nature of the contemplated defenses. …

It should be noted that Mr. Bundy placed himself in a rather disadvantageous position by his non-confession confession. To assert the insanity defense, it is generally necessary to admit the commission of the criminal act and discuss it with defense counsel and the experts. Mr. Bundy does talk to the crime investigators about ‘my problem,’ but refrains from doing so with his attorneys and the expert they have chosen.

If one assumes that Mr. Bundy has committed the crimes with which he is charged, then psychiatrically, the possibility of mental derangement at the time of the acts would be a definite consideration. I have reference to the brutality of the assaults and the infliction of severe bites including biting off the nipples. The bizarreness and brutality are often associated with mental states that may qualify for the insanity defense.

On the face of it, the denial of having committed a terrible crime is adaptive and self-serving; however, in the present context it appears to be self-defeating. I realize that it could be argued that Mr. Bundy has some chance to prevail on the claim of his innocence. I consider that exceedingly unlikely, not only because of the evidence that the prosecution has against him but also due to Mr. Bundy’s behavior in the past and in the future. I would anticipate that in the unlikely event that the prosecution’s case against him would weaken, he would, through his behavior, bolster the prosecution’s case. I have much less doubt about Mr. Bundy’s capacity to assist the prosecution than his ability to assist his own counsel.

If one assumes that his sadistic acts, including homicides attributed to Mr. Bundy in Tallahassee, were carried out by him, then psychiatrically it would be likely that various other similar acts have been perpetrated by him. It could then be argued that he is effective in concealing his criminal activities. Such an argument would be only partly true. It would be more accurate to say that he is of two minds on this issue—he attempts to conceal and reveal his involvement. He masterminds escapes with a great deal of ingenuity, and arranges for his apprehension.

I have discussed with Mr. Bundy his appraisal of the evidence held against him. It is his view that the case against him is weak or even frivolous. This judgment of Mr. Bundy’s is inaccurate according to his defense counsel and, most likely, represents a manifestation of his personality disorder.

In view of the fact that on conviction, he faces the death sentence, the acceptance of an offer of a life sentence in exchange for a guilty plea was something to be considered seriously. This option was precluded by Mr. Bundy’s view that the prosecution’s case against him was weak. This is at least his explanation of why he was unwilling to consider this particular approach.

It is my impression that a major factor is his deep-seated need to have a trial, which he views as an opportunity to confront and confound various authority figures. In this last category I include, for his purposes, not only judges and prosecutors, but also his defense attorneys.

In a certain sense, Mr. Bundy is a producer of a play that attempts to show that various authority figures can be manipulated, set
against each other, and placed in positions of conflict. Mr. Bundy does not have the capacity to recognize that the price for producing this ‘thriller’ might be his own life. Mr. Bundy the Lawyer does not recognize that his client, Bundy the Defendant, is not being adequately represented.

We have here an individual who has had a history of antisocial behavior during his adolescence. There is history of poor occupational performance and antisocial behavior during adult life—one felony conviction in Utah and the unfinished trial for homicide in Colorado. Furthermore, there is an undisputed history of forgery, stealing of cars, etc.

In the interview situation there is no symptomatology consistent with psychotic illness. The overall demeanor is typical for an individual suffering from a personality disorder.

Whether or not this condition is considered mental illness for criminal law purposes is a subject of controversy within law and psychiatry. In the past this particular condition was called psychopathy; at the present time the term antisocial personality is more commonly used. There are those who believe that this condition is merely a variant of normality, whereas others insist that this is a genuine illness. It is my view that sociopathy, if sufficiently severe, is an illness in as much as there is impairment of a variety of psychic functions. Among others, sociopaths have a peculiar sensitivity to intoxicating substances, particularly alcohol. Many of the more bizarre crimes committed by sociopaths are in response to alcohol consumption. The psychopathology of a sociopath is not easily recognized because they do not provide symptoms easily recognized by a lay person or even a psychiatrist. Sociopaths understandably arouse a great deal of hostility and there is therefore a tendency to view them more as “bad” than as sick. Furthermore, they themselves deny that they suffer from an illness. Be that as it may, severe personality disorder does not justify an insanity defense.

I have carefully reviewed the Florida provisions dealing with incompetence to stand trial. I have serious doubts that Mr. Bundy has ‘sufficient present ability to consult with his lawyers with a reasonable degree of rational understanding.’ In view of this fact, it is my recommendation that a judicial determination of Mr. Bundy’s ability to stand trial be made.

ice and sugar dust [Archie Andrews x Reader]

Author’s Note: Yooo I started watching Riverdale and I’m liking it. Started it at the beginning of a new quarter too. Who has perfect timing? I have perfect timing. /s I would highly recommend ya listen to this while reading, pretty please! I used it as inspo for this fic, it just seemed to fit Archie idk.

Word Count: 1,734

Keep reading

keep it.

➵ characters: g-dragon x reader
➵ genre: smut
➵ wc: 5140
➵ summary: jiyong shows up with a new hair colour and you’re happy. really happy.
➵ author’s note:this came purely from the weakness i felt when jiyong coloured his hair black after the fxxk it promotions. something about it every time he does has me putty. and this is my first post after at least four months. wow i’m really terrible, if you guys hate me now i don’t blame. but i hope this makes you hate me less. enjoy!
masterlist
disclaimer

JiJi: You’re not at the studio anymore. Where did you go?

You: YG called me in to his office.

JiJi: Is everything okay?

You: Yeah, everything’s fine. Give me a couple more minutes.

From behind you, the door to Hyunsuk’s office creaked open as he entered the room once more after having taken an important call. You scurried to return your phone in your bag just beneath you, watching the man go around his large desk and settle in his seat.

“Sorry about that. So,” he sighed. “Will you be able to just keep Chaerin company on her US tour? You know, just so that she has someone there with her that she trusts.”

“Of course. She’ll be safe with me,” you smiled enthusiastically.

“Great. We’re still deciding on dates, but it’ll be within the next two or three months. We’ll keep you posted.”

You smiled again, nodding respectfully. As Hyunsuk rose from his seat, you quickly followed suit. You said your farewell, ensuring him once more that Chaerin is in secure hands.

“Oh, by any chance, are you going to see Jiyong?”

“Um,” you chuckled nervously, “yes, I believe so.”

“Do tell him he still owes me a dinner for losing that bet… he’ll know what I’m talking about.”

“Yes… sir, I will.”

With one last polite goodbye, you left Hyunsuk be in his office and back to his work. The journey from the grand office back to the floor where most studios were did not take that long, taking just a minute or two to arrive at your destination. You had expected Jiyong to already be there, either waiting for you or deep into his work, but the studio was just as you had left it, empty.

You plonked your bag on the spacious leather in the corner of the room, sitting beside it, allowing one leg to cross over the other. A long sigh was exuded before you let your head fall back onto the sofa’s top, closing your eyes, relishing in the silence. However, it was short lived, as you heard the glass door you had closed reopen, hearing a familiar voice.

“Hmph, that didn’t take long,” Jiyong commented.

“It wasn’t supposed to,” your eyes remained closed. “And YG said something about a bet?” Your head was lifted so you sat up straight, and even though your eyes were now open they still faced downwards to your lap. “That you still owe him dinner?”

“Ha, he’s still going on about that?” he chuckled. “Soon.”

“He called me to ask to go on tour with Chaerin,” your head snapped up. “You know, just to— “

Your facial expression which was once aloof and calm was now very much alert, with surprise becoming the new emotion, and it rendered you speechless.

Jiyong waited for you to complete your sentence, but when you didn’t he scrunched his eyebrows in confusion. “Just to what?”

“You coloured your hair?”

Keep reading

…and I hope that one day you love someone the way that I loved you. Because the way that I loved you was no ordinary feeling. It taught me that no job, no grade, no holiday and no material object is half as important as the people you love and how you love them. I never knew you could make homes out of people until I found myself homesick whenever I spent time away from you. I’d never been afraid of loving someone until I spent hours lying beside you and your voice became my favourite sound. I never really liked music until I found you in the words of what then became my favourite songs. I always thought books exaggerated love stories, until it was only you and I that existed when you kissed me under the summer sky in Venice as the warm rain caught my (freshly washed!!) hair. I never cared much for poetry until you left and poems became the only places I found you. I never knew I loved writing so much until the only way to keep myself from falling to pieces without you was to pour those pieces of myself on to the pages of my diary. I never knew feeling a love so deeply was even possible, but I know now never to expect anything less. And I’m so glad you taught me what love is supposed to feel like. I just hope that one day you fall in love so much so that you learn too what I have learned from you.
—  an excerpt from a letter I wont send to him
Is It Hot In Here? (Yugyeom Scenario)

gif not mine, credits to owner

Request;

Hi~^^ May I request a *cough* steamy make-out session with Yugyeom, please? Also, for the Q&A, what was the last book you read? Thank you very much and have a nice day/night! 😄

Genre: Some Fluff|Kinda Smutty|

Word Count: 1028

A/N:

I’m really sorry this took so long, I meant to write it a long time ago, but I guess I never got around to it. I hope you enjoy it <3

Also the last few books I’ve read are Eleanor & Park by Rainbow Rowell. 1984 by George Orwell and The Drowning of Author Braxton by Caroline Smailes

sorry for any typos

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Tables Turn

Originally posted by veriloquentmind

~ EXO!Gangsters/Mafia

~ Junmyeon x (she)reader

~ Inspiration to one of @wonho-ful-reactions pieces of work, thank you :) x


Being married to the leader of the EXO aka Asia’s biggest and most feared mafia gang had its perks: nice car, nice house, traveling, respect from others, and a nice life overall. Except the reason that you were here in the first place… Junmyeon. You have no choice in this marriage, Junmyeon wanted you for himself, all for himself. If only he could get the same message.


You didn’t want to admit it but you were jealous, girls and boys practically throw themselves towards Junmyeon and the other EXO members, some of them gladly respond but the thought of Junmyeon with someone else sickened you to the core.


A soft voice pierced your thoughts. “(Y/N)?”


You jumped slightly at the noise and came back from your imagination. “Sorry, I was just thinking about tonight.”


The maidservant smiled as she set out your outfit for the evening, a long pearly white dress with a silver belt decorated with beautiful gems and diamonds; paired with bedazzled shoes to match. “Mr Junmyeon will love to see you in this dress, my lady.”


You nodded in response and turned back to your dressing table. The maidservant walked over to you and began to work her magic. Slowly taking pieces of your freshly washed hair and creating a small plaited bun on the back of your head. Usually you would have another person to do your hair and makeup, however Charlotte is talented in those areas, despite her being just a servant.


“There… finished,” She said proudly. You closely into the mirror beside you and saw her wonderful creation. You looked beautiful, even if it was hard to admit.


Charlotte’s eyes frantically went from your hair to the reflection, back and forth, back and forth. “So… do you like it?” She asked hesitantly, grasping her hands tightly together.


“Yes, I love it.” You smiled back. She breathed a huge sigh of relief. “Now let’s get you dressed.”


You gently walked down the long steps into the front foyer, holding onto the banister for support in your tall heels. There were many people waiting in the huge room for transportation to arrive to then be whisked away to the ball. However, Junmyeon was nowhere to be seen. Your bottom lip protrudes slightly in sadness, even if your husband did annoy you most of the time, you did miss him. Especially on a night like this, these balls were infamous for hosting great mafia gangs and groups alike, it was an evening filled with trades, deals, and negotiating; in an orderly fashion.


You feel a warmth on your shoulder. Jongdae greeted you in a tight embrace. As if he read your mind he says, “Junmyeon hyung is going to meet us at the ball, he had some work to deal with.”


If you had a penny for each time you heard that, you would be able to take over the mafia yourself. Jongdae noticed your sudden drop in mood and gave you a reassuring smile. You liked Jongdae a lot, and the other EXO members too, but Jongdae knew about your jealously and love/hate about Junmyeon, he’s the only one you trust with such secret information.


“Come on babe, let’s go.” Jongdae said holding out his arm for you to grasp.


You snorted at his words, “My husband would kill you if he heard you say that.”


You’d seen some amazing things in your life but this place was unforgettable. A tall singular chandelier hung from the ceiling, the light coming through projected rainbow patterns onto the decorated walls. The humongous room was filled to the brim with people, all dressed to their best. A soft tune of jazz echoed in the background which had people slowly swaying too. This place screamed the life of luxury and lavishness.


After taking in the beauty of the setting, you focused yourself onto one thing. Junmyeon. Jongdae said he was here… where is he??


You squeezed through the crowd and bumped into people but he was nowhere to be seen. You had even asked rival gang member Namjoon from BTS if he had seen your husband, you received no answer.


You huffed out in frustration and brought your hand to your hurting head. You needed a breath of fresh air to calm your senses. You made your way towards the back entrance, which overlooked the gardens to the mansion. Even during the dark night, it still looked beautiful.


The cold evening air prickled your skin as you walked towards a rock bench. You plopped yourself down and looked at your surroundings. Your eyes scanned the setting. People, people, another bench, more people, Junmyeon, a plant, even more people… wait… Junmyeon??


You blinked your eyes in shock and tried to focus on the figure in the distance. He was stood with a woman, who was wearing a tight black dress. She was clearly trying to get his attention, showing off her long legs, flashing a toothy smile. You were used to this kind of stuff, it happens on a daily. You sighed at her attempt.


You start to make your way over to your husband for a strong word to word when you’re stopped in your tracks. He was… smiling at her. Laughing at her jokes. Looking her up and down like a piece of meat. He was liking the attention he was being given. This was your worst nightmare. Your heart shattered. Your gasped at the scenery so loud it alerted Junmyeon. Abruptly, he averted his eyes to meet your broken ones. His face went blank, guilt rushed over.


You ran from the scene with tears biting at your eyes. You dashed towards the next empty vehicle, not stopping despite the shouts from your husband behind you.


“Take me home please.” You said quickly to the driver, slamming the car door.


“Which house ma’am?” He questioned looking at you through the rear-view mirror.


“The EXO house.” You sighed.


Once you saw your bed, you collapsed onto it and burst into tears. Everything was coming up to that one moment, all your jealous thoughts had been true. You tried so hard to deny your love for Junmyeon, despite all the love he gave you. Seeing him looking at someone sparked this emotion you had never felt for him before. If only you knew this sooner. Now here you are, enveloped by your tears and dirty tissues. Welling over your husband you now only love due to jealously and envy. Oh, how the tables turn…


“(Y/N)?”


You know that voice so well.


You couldn’t bear to look at him, you were torn between punching him straight in the jaw or tackling him to the bed in kisses. Best to look away…


Junmyeon sighed and rested himself next to you on the bed. His dark eyes showed concern and sadness.


He gently placed his hand onto yours and rubbed slow circles onto your thumb.


“(Y/N)… I am so sorry for what I did.” You didn’t respond. “But I had to.”


What?…


Your head quickly snapped up to look at him in confusion. “What do you mean you had to?” Your words turning slowly more sinister as each syllable was spoken.  


Junmyeon chuckled slightly and moved his lips to your forehead, a soft kiss. He pulls away. “Blame Jongdae.” He said smirking “He told me everything.”


You couldn’t help but smile a little. “Remind me to never tell anyone anything around here.”


Junmyeon’s smile grew wider and he kissed you again on the cheek. Hand placed on the lower part of your back.


You turned to look at your husband. For the first time in years you look at him with love. This is all Junmyeon could ever ask for, his dream had come true.
You both leant forwards to embrace in a passionate kiss. You were finally both happy, with each other. Forever and always.


Jerome Valeska//Stalker (Part 2)

Read Part 1 Here>>> https://peculiar-p0st.tumblr.com/post/160406244041/jerome-valeskastalker

Jerome x Reader
(Y/N=Your Name)
*WARNING: a bit of a stalker situation, creepy and possessive Jerome, kidnapping/abduction, gun threat, brief mention of blood*

DISCLAIMER: in no way do I romanticize stalking or encourage it. This is strictly a work of FICTION.

It’d been a day since Jerome had invaded your home. Of course, you never knew about the unwelcome visitor. Jerome knew about you of course and hadn’t let up on his stalking even slightly. If anything, since kissing your sleeping form, the psycho had become even more obsessed.

You sat alone in your home, cowering in the depths of your closet. You’d been watching channel nine when, suddenly, one of Gotham’s most dangerous villains, Jerome Valeska, appeared on the T.V. After a lengthy rant on all things psychotic and blowing up one of his cult’s leaders, there was a flicker of the lights and suddenly, there was darkness.

Your parents were still at work. The sun was setting outside. Pretty soon, you’d be incased in full darkness.

Jerome Valeska and his band of goons rode wildly in a van to your house. The psycho told his partners to stop, and they did.

Jerome couldn’t imagine how frightened you must be. His poor little baby doll alone and oh so scared! He flicked his tongue across his lips at the thought of you.

Jerome practically ran up to the front door. He reached into his pocket for the key to your house.

“Shit!” He muttered to himself. Jerome had forgotten his key.

“Anyone willing to take care of this for me?” Jerome shouted out to his goons. One of them came up to Jerome with a crowbar. The psycho gave them a gentle pat on the head and proceeded to break into your home.

You listened carefully to the jostling of the front door. Soon after, you heard a loud crash. You couldn’t help but to screech out in surprise.

“Hello!” Jerome called out into the void of the foyer. He waved his goons out of the house so that he could be with you alone.

The maniac let out a freighting laugh that rattled you down to your bones.

That laugh sounded so familiar to you. It was him, Jerome Valeska. The one who had just turned the city’s power out.

Jerome crept down the shadowy hallway to your room. He dragged the crowbar against the sheetrock creating an eery and horrifying rattle.

You sunk father back into your closet.

“Here kitty kitty.” Jerome beckoned from the other side of the closet door. You stifled your sobs into the back of your hand. “Come out and play.”

Despite being utterly infatuated with you, Jerome couldn’t deny himself the opportunity to impose such a fear on someone so that they weren’t sure if they’d live or die. At this point, you were almost sure you’d be slaughtered.

Jerome turned slowly to face the closet and swung the door open. He didn’t see you at first and you thought for a moment, perhaps you would be spared. But soon, the psycho’s eyes landed on yours. Jerome smiled at your creepily before snatching you up by the arm and pulling you into his chest.

You screamed out into the dark abyss. Jerome’s hand flew up to your mouth and his arm snaked itself around your waist. There was no space between the two of you. “Shh babydoll don’t scream. Y/N I’ve got you.”

The psycho knew your name. You were utterly shocked; so much so that you stopped screaming.

“How do you-how do you know my name?” You asked, voice muffled by the maniac’s hand.

Jerome let out a cackle. “I’ve been watching…” His voice trailed off. Jerome pushed you forwards against the wall so that your faces were only mere centimeters apart. Jerome pushed his chest against yours while one of his arms was by the side of your head. He whipped out a small handgun and held it to your face. “Everything about you intrigues me.”

The windows being open, the strange sounds, the paranoia. Jerome Valeska had been stalking you for weeks, and now you finally realized it.

The feeling of fear began to grow in your stomach. Your eyes began to adjust themselves to the dark, but you still couldn’t fully see Jerome’s face.

“How do I know you’re not a liar? You could-could be one of those um Jerome phonies.” You stated. You weren’t sure why you were acting so brave. From what you knew about Jerome, he never spared someone’s life. If you were to die, why not spend your last moments cursing the man who has caused so much panic?

Jerome grasped you by the throat so that you could barely breathe. He placed his lips against your ear and whispered, “Think this gun is a phony?” He shoved the cool metal against your gut. Jerome ran his tongue along the side of your face before bringing his mouth over to your other ear. “Y/N,” he said whilst inhaling the smell of your freshly washed hair. “Come with me.”

“N-no,” you replied choking out a breath.

Jerome clicked the safety off the gun. “Don’t make me shoot you.” The psycho pulled you off the ground so that only the tips of your feet grazed the carpet.

At this point, the only defense you could muster was spitting on the psycho’s face. Your saliva landed itself on Jerome’s lips. His tongue flicked out of his mouth lapping away at your spit.

“Do it again Y/N.” Said Jerome before letting out another cackle. His fingers tightened their grip around your throat.

“Wouldn’t want to-to give-give you the satisfaction.” You managed to choke out. Jerome let go of his grip on your throat.

“C'mon kitten.” He said whilst turning you down the hallway to the front door. “We’re going for a ride.”

Jerome pushed you the rest of the way out of your house. In the streets, you were met with the eery cackles of his gang members. They were all standing around a white van.

In the faint moonlight, Jerome was utterly terrifying. His face was peeling off in the corners and fresh blood ran down his neck. He spoke with a whiny, nasally voice. Jerome was the personification of your worst nightmares.

“Hop in babydoll.” Jerome chirped happily, gesturing towards the front passenger seat. You climbed into the car carefully. Jerome slid in after you. He placed an arm around your shoulders pulling you extremely close into your body. Jerome picked up your right leg and draped it over his left thigh.

Jerome was happy. His kitten was practically sitting on his lap.

One of Jerome’s goons was opened the driver’s door and sat behind the steering wheel.

“Here we go! Hang on tight Brucie!” Jerome exclaimed.

Brucie? You questioned. However, you didn’t have much time to think about Jerome’s statement before you were flying down the street.

anonymous asked:

I love your work my friend, you do such an awesome job! Could you do a -Alphas gently crooning and rubbing their Omegas tummy to help their exhausted mate relax and fall asleep, with Hanzo and his omega mate? :) Please~

You whined, stamping your feet petulantly as if that would make your situation better. To say you were exhausted would be the understatement of the century, the bags underneath of your eyes large enough to hold ‘every single Overwatch agent’s weapons’ (or so you had said earlier this evening). Your hands massaged your pregnant belly, trying to calm the two pups that were growing inside of you. It seemed like every evening, as soon as you felt the urge to sleep, they’d decide it was the perfect time to play. They would kick and flail and elbow and while you were so happy they were healthy, you wished they could give you at least a little time to rest.

“Come here beloved.”

Hanzo’s tone was tinged with mirth, sitting on the edge of the bed as he worked water from his freshly washed hair. He only wore his black silk pajama pants and if you weren’t so damned tired, you would have wanted to climb onto your darling Alpha and ride him. But for now you obliged his request with a slight pout on your lips. The archer chuckled softly, reaching up and lightly stroking your cheek to comfort you before his hand dropped to your belly. His hand moved in slow, practiced circles on either side of your belly, his warm, calloused touch coaxing all the tension from your body. Your hands moved to his shoulders, a quiet sigh of contentment falling from your lips as the pups began to respond to the calming energy their papa was exuding. Your pups were also good at listening to their Alpha, which was also lovely.

“Are you keeping your mother up”, Hanzo questioned directly to the pups, pressing his cheek against your stomach. You snorted softly, chuckling as Hanzo placed a soft kiss against your belly, nuzzling and crooning low and affectionate in his throat. Your fingers combed through Hanzo’s hair as he continued to talk to your belly, the wild flailing calming into slightest wiggling. “It is bed time pups, you need to let your mother rest. She’s very sleepy, isn’t that right beloved?”

Your eyes were closed, your head bobbing up and down in agreement. You missed his knowing smile as his arms wrapped as far around you frame as he could, popping back open briefly as he pulled you down to the bed. You smiled appreciatively, Hanzo quietly helping you up to the giant mass of pillows you had accumulated on your side of the king-sized bed. Covering your lower half in the blanket, he laid his head on your stomach again, one of your hand resting on your chest while the other rest against his head. He continued to rub your belly tenderly, talking too softly for you to hear, your eyes growing heavier and heavier as you finally were given a reprieve from your rambunctious pups.

“T’anks…”you murmured softly, yawning before dozing off for good.

“You are welcome beloved…”

[request] [scenario] forever

(thank u for requesting !! im sry this is shorter than usual bc it’s more therapeutic fluff than plot hehe) 

Title: forever

Member: minghao

Genre: fluff fluff fluff // domestic!au 

Word Count: 736

You groan, leaning your head against your apartment door. The number pad is glowing red, indicating that the wrong code had been inputted. You’re reaching for your phone somewhere in your backpack when the door swings open, and you fall into a pair of strong, sturdy arms.

Keep reading

Astrid doesn't like being spoiled

But occasionally when they bathe together Hiccup will get out of the tub first and go warm towels for her by the fire. He’ll wrap her in a towel (and a hug) as she’s done, then squeeze the water out of her hair and press his nose into it (he loves the smell of her freshly washed hair).

She also loves having her hair played with (but only by Hiccup and she’d kill anyone else who tried to do it). Hiccup sometimes brushes her hair at night for her and plays with it, twisting it into sloppy braids, ponytails, etc. She just likes the feeling of his fingers on her scalp even if she doesn’t like his stylistic choices.