brown clutch bag


pairing: Jungkook | reader I Yooongi
genre: angst (Soulmate!au meets Hanahaki!au)
word count: 3.327
warnings: none
author’s note: Hellooo, Toombler! This is the first instaallment of the Saudade series (Whoot Whoot) I’m warning you guys now, i have no plot, idk where i’m going with this. Let me know if you guys want another part to this! xxx

Series: Part 1 // Part 2 // Part 3


Saudade;                                                                                                           ↪ The feeling of intense longing for a person or place you love but is now lost

The sky was a painting tonight.

You marveled at the beautiful twilight hues. Shades of violet bled into the indigo sky, creating bridges of colours you could only describe with the paintbrush in your hand, and the canvas in front of you. You mixed and created shades of pink, purple and blue you could not name. You paid no attention to that, art did not need a language; it was the expression of what words fail to communicate.

Art is an entity of its own.

Like you.

Many described you as wild – you were as wild as the winds that blew the curled red leaf in the air.

You watched the sun in front of you dip below the horizon like a candle being extinguished. You dipped your own brush into the paint and brushed it across the canvas, now adding the finishing strokes of cerise and amber.

You gave your painting a final look before setting down your paintbrush.

You huffed. In front of you was no match to what you saw a few minutes ago. You could never paint the splashes of colours you formed in the sky. The true and raw beauty of the sunset could never be captured. That is by you – a self-proclaimed artist.

It was rumoured that everyone has a different sky that is shared with their soulmate – except all celestial objects stay in the same position for everybody, so weather is not affected. Everyone has the ability to draw on the sky, making splash of colours or little notes for only them and their soulmate to see.

You shivered from the chilly winds as they ran across your skin. It was exhilarating as it was terrifying. You were currently situated at the rooftop of your art institution. Every evening, you came here and tried to create a somewhat decent painting of the evening sky. And every evening, you failed.

You mastered the skill of painting fruit baskets and fields of flowers. You could recreate the face of a person you had met for the first time with deadly precision. So why could you not paint something as simple as the sunset? Children could paint it. Hell, Kindergarteners could finger-paint the sunset, yet you couldn’t. Why?

Walking to the edge, you gripped the thin metal railing. It always amazed you at how fast the night changes. Now, as you looked at the early night sky, all traces of the colours had bled into one – a magnificent shade of midnight blue. The cold winds of nightfall pierced the thin layer of your shirt. You wrapped your hands around your body as you attempted to warm yourself. In vain, you rubbed your hands up and down each other until you felt a hint of warmth spread across your body.

The night held so many mysteries.

You turned around to wipe off the wet paint on your palette and you put it, along with your brush, into your bag. Slinging the back on your shoulder, you picked up your easel and walked to the room across from you. The room was small and mainly used for storage. Sometimes, you would find couples inside it. Those encounters never ended well.

You made a silent prayer in your head as you turned the brass door knob to the room. To your surprise, the light was already on. You could’ve sworn that you turned them off when you came to get the equipment. Hesitantly stepping inside, you put down the easel at the back of the room.

Whoosh, the door closed. The sound made you jump and you heard a deep chuckle come from beside you.

You let out a shriek as you made eye contact with none other than Jeon Jungkook.

“Jungkook!” you shoved the boy in front of you, “you scared the shit out of me.”

“Oh Y/N! Y-you s-should’ve seen y-your face,” Jungkook tried to imitate your reaction before he doubled over with laughter once again. “Oh man, y-you looked s-so terrified,” he spluttered.

You felt a smile of your own forming before you crossed your arms together and bit your lip. You tried your best to stay mad at him. You never could, but you tried. Every time.

Jungkook’s  amber orbs blazed with the golden light of a summer evening. His eyes reminded you of a sunset – no matter how hard you tried, you couldn’t manage to look away.

“Hello? Earth to Y/N,” Jungkook waved his hand in front of your face. You snapped out of your trance and shifted your gaze from his face to the ground.

“Hey, Y/N, are you okay? Did I go too far? Do you want to hit me? You can hit me, just don’t hit my face. It’s the only thing I have going for me,” he offered you a comforting smile.

His smile alone was enough to make you feel better.

You shook your head and opened your mouth to speak, “Jungkook, just… don’t scare me like that ever again.”

He nodded and moved across the room. You thought he was going to leave until he walked back to you with a brown bag in his hands. Instantly, the smell of Tteokbokki hit your nostrils and you felt your mouth water a little. You hadn’t eaten since lunch. You reached out to take the bag when it was pulled away from your grasp.

Nuh uh,”Jungkook waggled his finger at you, “first, you have to show me your painting. You never show me your paintings of the sunset.”

“Um, no. There’s a reason why and that’s because they’re all trash. Absolute trash.”

“You’re being way too critical of yourself. Your paintings are never short of amazing.”

“But you haven’t seen these ones, that’s why you’re saying this.”

“Then show me,” Jungkook said.

You took a hold of both of his hands and looked up at him pleadingly

“Jungkook… please don’t make me.”

He huffed and looked away. You wondered what he was thinking about.

You heard the rustle of the paper bag as he handed it to you. “Thank you, kookie. I owe you one,” you said as you took a bite of the soft rice cake.

“Don’t thank me, I know you hadn’t had dinner so I brought you some food. It’s what friends are for,” he shrugged his shoulders as he reached for a rice cake.

You momentarily stopped chewing. No matter how hard you tried, you couldn’t help but feel your stomach drop in disappointment every time you heard that word.


The two of you walked out of the room and sat on the cold, concrete floor.

The night sky was a sharp contrast to the once melodic array of warm colours – it was now black as ink, the only light illuminating from the stars.

“Hey, Jungkook.“


“Remember the Twinkie on the bus? The one I gave you in second grade?”

“The one you found on the floor and gave me without telling me? Nice.”

You grinned and gave him a rice cake. “It never really fell on the floor. I made that part up.”

You couldn’t see his face but you could tell that he was smiling.

“Hey, Y/N”


“I-I think that I’m going to tell Hyojin that I love her,” he had mentioned out of the blue.

Your chest tightened, the same way it did when Jungkook first told you about his crush on your sister. You felt a tingling, itchy feeling clawing up your throat and stopping midway. It felt like a hairball that had been stuck, but you managed to swallow it down with some water. You sat still, vision blurring, and in that moment, you heard your heart break. It was a small, clean sound, like the snapping of a flower’s stem.

“Y/N, are you okay? You look like you’re –“

“I’m okay, Jungkook. I just choked a little on the rice cake when I tried to talk at the same time,” you lied, clutching the brown paper bag resting in your lap.

Jungkook raised an eyebrow but did not question further. “Well, what do you think I should do?”

“You should do what you feel is right.”

You couldn’t make out Jungkook’s face. You only saw the highlighted parts of his face as the moonlight shone down upon him.

“What do you think is right?”

“It doesn’t matt—“

What do you think is right?”

You sighed, “you really love her, don’t you?”

“With all my heart.“

“Maybe”, you said gently, “you’re trying too hard to hear it. Don’t say it yet.”

Jungkook’s face fell faster than a corpse in cement boots. You saw his body go rigid, his mouth hung with lips slightly parted and his eyes were slightly widened at your statement. Slowly, the shock wore off of his face and was replaced with a gaze that felt like an act of violence – a glare to stop your heart. You heard him as he scoffed, “…unbelievable.”

You felt your temper rise at Jungkook’s audacity to scoff at you, “what? You asked for my opinion and so I gave you my opinion. Don’t roll your eyes at me.”

Jungkook laughed heartlessly, looking down at you as if you were a complete stranger. “I’m going to tell her,” he said with an air of finality and a tinge of annoyance directed towards you.

Instead of lowering your head you lifted it, a stony glare carved into your dark eyes. Anger blurred your sight but you tightened your jaw and glared at him, “and what am I supposed to do? Sit by while you date other girls and fall in love with someone else and get married?” Your voice tightened, “And meanwhile, I’ll die a little bit more every day, watching.”

Jungkook turned, but too slowly to be normal. When he spook his voice trailed slowly, like his words were unwilling to take flight. There was a sadness in his eyes, the brown too glossy, “Y/N, p-please, stop. Y-you’re just…jealous, just admit it,” you heard the slight hesitance in his words. “You know what, I’ll help you find someo—”

“Yes! I’ll admit, I am jealous. I’m jealous of every minute you spend with her, of every concerned expression you send her way, of every tear shed, of every glance, every touch, and every thought. I want to rip her to pieces and purge her from your mind and from your heart. But I can’t.” before you could register what was happening, your brain made a decision of its own.

“Y/N, please don’t—“

Words flew from your mouth that you never thought you’d even think, let alone say out loud. You knew instantly from the look in his eyes that they’d hit their mark. In that instant, your relationship shattered into glassy shards. Nothing would ever be the same again.

“I love you,” you blurted out. “I-I know you don’t love me, so don’t say it back.”

Jungkook shot up, his tall stature looming over your own. You stood up beside him, with your arms crossed and your eyes locked on him. It takes him a while to realize that you weren’t joking. You got up on your feet, standing a few inches away from him. "J-Jungkook?” you placed your hand on his arm in an effort to comfort him. Jungkook shoved your hand away.

“Don’t touch me.” Just a few words, but they brought tears to your eyes. You never thought this was how it would feel to have your heart broken.

“Jungkook, please. Don’t do this.” You pleaded him as you covered your face with your hands and wiping away your tears.

Oh no! I’m not doing anything here. I told you not to say it and yet you still said it.” Jungkook was now shouting at you.

“I’m sorry,” you sounded like you were choking on your tears. You never could keep your emotions under control; you couldn’t fight away the tears. You stepped forward, trying to reach out to him. Jungkook put his hands in front of him, halting you from taking another step.

“I said don’t touch me,” Jungkook’s voice cracked. Under the moonlight, you could see that his cheeks reflected your own tear-stained ones.

You didn’t try to get closer to him again. You sat down and tucked your knees to your chest, putting your elbows on your knees, and covered your face with your hands, then started to breathe slowly.

Silence gnawed at your insides. It hung in the air like the suspended moment before a falling glass shatters on the ground. You needed to fill the void with sounds, words, anything. The silence was poisonous in its nothingness, cruelly underscoring how vapid your conversation had become – it clung to you two like a poisonous cloud that at any moment could choke the life from them.

You couldn’t stand the deafening silence anymore. “Jungkook,” you whispered, not daring to look at the face in front of you. “I-I love you and I can’t stop loving you. You overtake my affections and leave my heart in shattered disarray of pieces. Every single time you steal a part of me, you make it impossible for me to put myself together. I know you can never love me and yet I always delude myself in the fantasy that maybe, just maybe, you’ll learn to love me back. Why is that? Perhaps I hope that you return what you’ve stolen. You never do. You smile, and it’s intoxicating. Your fingers brush through my hair, and it’s addicting. You laugh, and it’s contagious. You and your flirtatious self. But I know, and you know that you could never — would never return the love I shared with you.”

“You love Hyojin,“ you continued for him. "I know. Y-you’re in love with…her,” the bitter taste of those words lingered on your tongue.

Your eyes met his warm brown ones. “Yes,” he whispered, his lower lip trembling. “It’s her. It’s always been her.”

Jungkook’s words fell out of his mouth like vapour but landed in your guts as shrapnel. You felt your insides tear, and the blood drain from your face. You would have laughed but he was dead serious. His eyes were cold like you’d never seen and his features immobile. He handed back the painting you gave him just yesterday and you let it fall as soon as its weight had hit your palm. There was the mute sound of paper on cement but neither of you moved to pick it up. You were trying to understand the words he told you but you couldn’t. Then he turned to go, shoulders sunken and his hands in his pockets. Before you knew what you were doing you were standing in his way and locked eyes, the perfect distance for a kiss, but he shook his head. You could see your pain mirrored in his dark eyes.

“I’m sorry that I love you, Jungkook,” you said through your tears.

“Y/N, please. Let me go.”

“I can’t – not like this. Let’s talk about this. Please.”

There isn’t anything to talk about.”

Jungkook’s eyes were trained on some invisible specter behind you. His heavy eyelids took a fraction too slow to blink, his irises too stationary. It was as if his brain was suffering a massive short circuit and was struggling to compute. You moved into his line of sight, touching his cheek with the side of your thumb, your lips forming a pensive grin. Jungkook’s head tilted upward to your face, his eyes sliding into focus. Your voice came out in a breathy whisper, “can I just have one kiss?”

Jungkook made no motion to move and so, you leaned in. all of your senses were screaming at you to pull back, to step away from Jungkook – your sister’s boyfriend. And yet, you couldn’t. You knew he didn’t love him back, but you couldn’t resist. You leaned in a little closer, your foreheads touching. Dear god, you couldn’t fight against the thoughts that were going through you. His very smell was flooding his senses now.

“No!” he seemed to snap out from whatever trance he was previously in. “No, I thought you were my friend,” Jungkook yelled. He pulled himself away from you as if he touched a hot coal. Jungkook turned around and made a mad dash towards the exit.

“Wait! Jungkook,” you called after him. “Please,” you closed your eyes, pleading.

He didn’t.


etsyfindoftheday 1 | 5.24.17

amazing leather goods by hustleandhide

urrrghhhhhhhh i love leather … as a former vegetarian i feel a little bad sometimes the way i’m drawn to buttery cognac-y leather goods like these bad boys from hustleandhide. love the fringe and shape of the clutch, and the specialty design involved in their essential oil folding pouch. ugghhhhh the grain. uggghhhhhhhh the color! i die.

Downpour Run-ins [Dan]

Originally posted by everything-dan-and-phil

Word Count: 1316
Warnings: None 

Forgive me, for this is about to be the longest thing I have ever posted.
I’m thinking about turning this into a series, so lemme know if you’d like that! Also, would you like me to keep the character as (Y/N) or should I change it to an OC? Ps: If you get the pun at the end ily

The bell affixed to the door softly chimed as she exited the store, her small hands clutching a brown paper bag tightly to her chest as she briskly walked down the rain-soaked footpath. Her hair whipped her back, the leather shoes on her feet squeaking annoyingly as she dodged other shoppers who were also trying to find shelter from the downpour. The black trench coat she was wearing was beginning to soak right through to her skin with the cold rain, making her shiver.

‘Typical London,’ she muttered under her breath with a huff, a small cloud of air escaping her lips due to the icy cold temperature.

Out of all the days she could’ve forgotten her umbrella at home, today just had to be the day. She was in such a rush to get to the store early that she bounded down the stairs out of her flat, completely ignoring the fact that the clouds outside had turned an ominous dark grey. Instead, she noticed the beautiful muted reds and oranges of the fallen leaves swirling and fluttering about in the breeze, getting lost in the blur of colours. She was just that type of person; the type who noticed the beauty in almost everything.

Even if it was just a bunch of dead leaves floating in the wind.

The rain began to pour down harder and the drumming on the tin roof of the shelter became increasingly louder. She decided that the coffee store just a few metres away was her best shot to get out of the rain and cold, so she tucked the paper bag firmly under her arm and prepared herself to run.

The icy air whipped against her face as she bolted down the footpath, turning her cheeks a rosy red and chapping her lips slightly. The rain pounded down on her mercilessly, little droplets trickling slowly down her back and face. She squinted in an attempt to try and figure out where she was going, but the misty air made it almost impossible to see anything in front of her.

It was bound to happen in this horrible weather; her impaired vision wasn’t helping either. As she ran down the path, the leather shoes on her feet squeaking as annoyingly as ever, she slammed right into the chest of a stranger. The paper bag went flying out of her small hands, landing in a tiny puddle on the footpath, absorbing the water like a sponge and shriveling up like wrinkly skin.

‘Oh my goodness,’ the voice shouted over the intensity of the downpour. ‘Are you okay?’

She just nodded timidly, scrambling to her feet and inspecting herself for any injuries. Of course she was alright; the man had softened her fall.

‘I’m okay,’ she replied honestly, looking up to see the tall man gazing at her with his brown eyes.

‘Ahh! Your coat is soaked!’ He exclaimed, biting his lip and ruffling his slightly curly fringe with his hand. ‘C'mon, let’s head into the coffee shop to dry off.’ She followed the stranger inside the café, a little bell tinkling as they opened the door. Both were immediately met with a pleasant blast of warm air to the face along with the comforting smell of grinded coffee beans. A smile washed over her face as she stood in line to wait for her favourite beverage; coffee.

She suddenly got the feeling that someone was watching her, and she turned to see the dark-haired stranger sitting at a table with a small smile on his face. She looked ahead shyly, her cheeks turning a slight pink.

Both didn’t utter any words until she joined him in the back of the bustling café, the hum of coffee machines in the background filling their silence. She wrapped her hands around the paper cup in an attempt to warm up her frozen fingers.

‘Crazy weather out there, am I right?’ He questioned with a cheeky smirk set on his lips, taking a sip of his drink soon after. She raised her eyebrows slightly in surprise.

‘The old “isn’t the weather crap” conversation starter,’ she laughed slightly, brushing some of the damp hair out of her face. ‘Nice one, um…’

He smiled at her before holding out his hand across the table, ‘Dan. Nice to meet you…’

‘(Y/N),’ she grinned, shaking his hand firmly and taking a sip of her hot coffee. The two conversed for what seemed like hours, talking about their hobbies and interests. He learned that she was obsessed with anime and they spent quite some time arguing over which ones were the best.

‘I’m telling you, nothing beats Tokyo Ghoul!’ She exclaimed, placing her cup on the table. He just shook his head with a smile and began to rant about his favourite- Haikyuu! She had never laughed harder in her life with this almost-complete stranger and his hilariously awkward jokes; she was in stitches by the time she had drained her cup of coffee.

She stood up from the table, adjusting the bag on her shoulder and ruffling her still-damp hair. He followed her to the door, his empty cup which once held tea still in hand. By now the storm had calmed down, but not enough for her to walk back to her place without being soaked again.

Just as she put her right hand on the cold handle of the door, Dan placed something in her left; it was the paper bag from earlier she had dropped in the puddle outside. Even though the bag itself was wrinkly, its contents were one-hundred percent dry; she was extremely grateful for this. The two exchanged farewells before she ran out into the rain with a huge grin on her face, clutching the bag as tightly as ever.

He watched her rush down the street through the window, noticing how her black trench coat absorbed the rain the way her package did. As she disappeared down a corner, his hands flipped up the hood on his jumper, leaving the store and walking down the street in the opposite direction. Before he had met her, Dan was on his way to the DVD store just down the road to buy an anime that his roommate had wanted to watch; the brown paper bag was an all-too familiar sight to him.

She bounded up her stairs once she had reached her apartment, throwing her sodden boots to the side without a care in the world. All she wanted to do was curl up on the sofa with a steaming mug of hot tea and watch the raindrops have a race down the window in the living room.

As she sat down on the leather couch with her hot chamomile, (Y/N) grabbed the paper bag which contained the item she had been searching on the web for almost two weeks. She placed the cup down on the coffee table and started to tear through the bag, pulling out the DVD she had always wanted. Something suddenly slipped through the packaging, fluttering in the air and onto the floor. She furrowed her eyebrows and bent down to pick it up. It was a receipt filled with grocery items; not the one from the store she had been to. Turning it over, she saw a messy note scrawled on the back.

Ah of course, Tokyo Ghoul season 2. Haikyuu! is still better though.

She grinned, shaking her head in amusement at his statement. Her eyes travelled to the bottom of the crumpled note to see a barely legible phone number hastily written down. Her hands immediately reached for her phone which was sitting on the armrest beside her. Oh boy, was he gonna get it.

(Y/N): You can’t HIDE from the truth that Tokyo Ghoul is better than Haikyuu! my friend.

Her phone beeped soon after with a reply, and the pun war had begun.

The Mom Ch. 1

Fandom: BIGBANG/ Choi Seung Hyun

Synopsis: Samchilil

Warnings: All the fluff!!! Seriously fluffy feels ahead…

Author’s Note: Here we go again, dear readers! Off on another adventure with The Nanny. What sort of scenarios are we going to get up to this time? ;)
Remember, feedback is love! <3

Disclaimer: This is a work of fiction. This story contains fictional representations of real people. None of the events are true. This is from an American standpoint, so some of the situations may not happen the same way they might in Korea. I make no money from the writing of this fictional work.


The morning after the birth of the twins found you feeling like you’d been run over by a bus. Your muscles were sore and weak, you’d barely had any sleep and you swore if anyone tried to feed you yet another bowl of Miyeokguk you were going to throw it at them.

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Childhood Memories

   A/N: Well, it’s been a while since I’ve written Riverdale. Here it is! I was having some major Jughead feels the other day and this was the result. Let me know what you think. ~Levi’s Lover 

    Age seven

    A pale hand cups the small silver coins, handing them to the man behind the register. A small girl sits near, watching as she flips the pages of her book, others sprawled across the white table. “I’m sorry son, this just isn’t enough.” Her father’s booming voice falls upon the boy, simply receiving a meek nod in return. His small hand reaches for the coins, gripping them once in his possession. His dark bangs fall over his eyes, hiding the dark circles that reside beneath. 

    “Thanks anyways.” He mumbles. The older male nods, gesturing for him to move out of the way. He does as told, worn out sneakers scraping against the floor. The thin flannel he wore displayed small patches, indicating a previous hole that has now been closed up. His gray jeans stuck to his thin legs, small holes allowing a view of his scraped knees. Coming to a stop before the child, he glares at her curious stare. “What do you want?” There was no hiding her surprise, her wide eyes and open mouth said it all. “What are you staring at?” His harsh question snapped the girl out of her daze, a small scowl set on his lips.

    “Why are your clothes so torn?” This time, it was his turn to reveal his surprise. “What?”

    “My mom doesn’t let me wear dirty clothes. Does your mom let you?” Judging by the red tinting his ears, the boy was becoming angry. “What’s it matter to you?” The girl shrugs, oblivious to the boy’s annoyance. “You’ll start to smell icky.” Her nose scrunches, showing her distaste. 

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Keep Away Part 4?

Here’s Part1/2 and Part3

Once they arrived back at the Tower Friday released him on the Iron Man disassembly platform. “Thanks Fri.”

“Anything thing for you boss.” Tony grinned at his baby girl’s success. Fury was going to be pissed but honestly the genius couldn’t give two shits.

5 minutes later he was in the kitchen attempting to put something together to eat when a strong smell of Chinese food came from his far right. Turning around he saw Bruce standing in his lab coat with a brown paper bag clutched in his arms. “Come willingly and I’ll feed you.”

“Oh Brucie I’d do anything for you…” Bruce just grinned at him and gestured him closer. “By any chance did you happen to order me some lo mien?”
“Of course.”
“I always knew you were my favorite.”

So for the next two hours Bruce was able to get Tony’s help on an experiment before he was stolen right from under his nose.

He wanted to blame Rhodes for being a sneaky fucker but he always did get a little tunnel vision when it came to his experiments.

It went a little like this….
Bruce was looking over some data points while Tony jotted down a few equations on a board across the room.
The billionaires phone buzzed, “Rhodey said he’s got a surprise for me but I only get it if I come now. You good if I leave?”
Bruce grunts, Tony leaves.

With Rhodey, “Damn Tones, what did you get yourself into this time?”
“I have no idea and it wasn’t even my fault!”
Tony was currently checking himself out in his bedroom mirror. Rhodey found him a cool new Iron Man t-shirt that he knew Tony would love. Which the genius did.
“Poor baby, should I take you to get coffee?”
“Um hell yes. What kind of question is that? Let’s go.”

They were walking down the street when the crowd around them started getting a little more rowdier than they already were.

“Man of Iron! I have come to claim you as my prize!” Swooping down Thor looped an arm around Tony before taking off.

“DAMNIT THOR!” Tony and Rhodey shouted at once.

It took Tony a few seconds of clinging to the ridiculous Demi-god before he had a realization. “I didn’t get my coffee!!”

alienkneesocks  asked:

Sam + "YOUTHS!"

“YOUTHS!” Sam hollers from where he stands in front of the swing set, shaking his fist in the air like an irate old man; a group of other students snickers and races off the courtyard, the leader clutching a brown bag with a messy “SAM’S LUNCH – DON’T TOUCH” scribbled on it in black sharpie. Sam stamps his foot, shouting after the escaping group of kids, “I should call the police on you!”

“Don’t say ‘youths’, Sam, especially when they’re the same age as you,” Max snickers from where he sits, swinging idly on one of the swings, fuzzy hands clasped around the metal chains that hold him up; Sam simply huffs in response, crossing his arms across his chest as he glares across the courtyard.

“That had my favorite kind of sandwich in it,” Sam sulks, hauling himself onto the swing seat next to Max, dragging his foot through the soft earth below, “They can’t get away with bullying us and taking our lunches away when it’s not even school time! It’s summer! We’re supposed to be free of bullies.”

Max shrugs, “Well, my naïve friend, that’s the cold truth to this cruel, cruel world. Bullies never stop working ‘round the clock.”

“And when they grow up, they become low life criminals and steal other stuff, like diamonds and stuff.” Sam pitches in, picking up where Max leaves off, and Max nods solemnly – or as solemnly as he can appear with that giant, crooked-tooth grin of his.

“I wish there was some way to stop them.” Sam muses wistfully, to which Max suggests, “There’s cops! And detectives, and other stuff like cops. I don’t know the exact branches of, uh, copness, but I do know they get to beat up mean people, which sounds super fun!” Max all but squeals with dark delight at that last part, vividly imaging how wonderful it’d be to pummel perps for a living.

Sam’s eyes widen as a realization dawns on him, shining on him like the bright rays of the summer sun beating down on him currently; he hops off his swing seat and scampers over to Max, silently thanking Max for having stopped his vigorous swinging the minute the bullies walked onto the playground. Sam’s hands come to grip Max by his slender shoulders, “Max!”

“You’ve got the breath of a dog, Sam. What’s up?”

Sam only beams like he won the lottery – which would be awesome at such a young age, given how 100 dollars already seems like a lifetime supply to someone Sam’s age, “I know what I want to be when I grow up!”

[WIP] weak for sweets - part 2

Sweets shop AU: Pastry chef Miyuki and chocolatier Chris run a small shop together. Eijun, just moved to Tokyo, is their most enthusiastic and most frequent customer. | Part 1 |

Part 2: Kuramochi deals with the new Noisy Neighbor.

3461 words, people!! Kuramochi, when did you take over my heart. Scribbles for tattoos because I am lazy.

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anonymous asked:

There is a knock on the door. It's about an hour before you would tend to head to the office. Opening the door stands a very tired looking Sky. She holds a tray with some coffees and a lone tea. Coffee Imp peeks out of her bag clutching a brown paper bag. "Morning can you believe people are up at this time?"

Risri was preparing for her day when the knock came. She opened the door a bit wary before seeing the tired Sky standing outside and quickly ushered her inside. The table was spread with layouts and articles for the paper. Risri moved to clear the items quickly as she tossed back over her shoulder, “And what has you up this early? Or have you not been to bed yet?”


anonymous asked:

May you pleaaaaaaase write part 10 of the bone cracking story? I love your writing voice

Yes I can!  Here is Part 10, comin’ ‘atcha!

(Part 1  Part 2  Part 3  Part 4  Part 5  Part 6  Part 7  Part 8  Part 9  Part 11  Part 12  Part 13  Epilogue)

Closing the taxi door behind you, you tip him well as you grab your things, clutching the brown paper bag close to your chest as you limp up to your doorway.

Ring ring.  Ring ring.

Sighing as you dig for your phone, you see Spencer’s name crawl across your screen as you furrow your brow.

“Hello?” you ask, fumbling your keys in your hand before sticking them into your locked door.

“Hey there, Y/N, I just wanted to make sure you got home safe…” you hear him say.

“Yep, just arrived,” you say, throwing your door open as you step through, kicking your bag in with your foot as you slam your door behind you.

“T-that’s good,” you hear him stammer.

“Spencer, what is it,” you sigh as you set the brown bag on the kitchen counter and slowly pull out the Jameson.

Your fingers trembled as you ran them across the label.

“I’m just really worried about you…” he trails off.

“Well don’t be,” you snap.

Hearing a pause on the other end, you sigh as you say, “I’m sorry.  It’s just been a really long case, and I just want to be alone, and none of you will fucking leave me alone.”

Gritting your teeth as you close your eyes, you take a deep breath as you remind yourself to keep your cool.

“Please forgive me,” he says weakly.

“For what?” you ask, your brow furrowing as you shake your head.

“For everything.  For snapping at you when I was craving, for tiptoeing around an apology instead of just saying it.  For always seeming like I invade your privacy when all I am is worried…”

Hearing him trail off, you throw open your cabinet as you eye a glass.

Putting your phone on speaker-phone, you toss it on the counter as you meander to your fridge, your mouth salivating at the sweet relief that is about to wash over your body.

Hearing a horn honk in the distance, you take your ice-filled cup and look out your kitchen window, grabbing the bottle of Jameson as you unscrew the cap.

Until you saw a pair of lights turn down your street.

“Spencer…?” you ask hesitantly, “Where are you right now?”

“That’s the other thing I need to apologize for…” he trails off.

“Spencer.  What have you done?” you ask, the unscrewed bottle shaking in your arms as you watch the car pull slowly into your driveway.

“I had Garcia keep tabs on your banking records.”

Feeling the heat rise in your face, you watch as Spencer and Morgan’s faces slowly come into view, the car lights shutting off as the sit in your driveway, eyeing you through your kitchen window.

With an open bottle of Jameson in your hands.

“Spencer…” you say through gritted teeth.

“We know where the cab driver took you after you left the hospital.  We know that you are struggling.  And we know…I know…that right now is the last moment in your life that you need to be alone.”

Feeling tears well in your eyes, you look down at your cup as you slowly pour the Jameson into your glass, the amber liquid gliding over the rocks of ice as your heart pounds furiously in your chest.

“Y/N!” you hear Spencer yell over your phone.

“I never asked you to come.  I never asked you to keep tabs on me.  I never asked you to apologize and I never asked you to show up at my damn AA meeting!” you yell, your entire body trembling as you plant your palms into the counter of your kitchen, your tears dripping into your glass of alcohol.

“All I wanted was-”

“To be left alone,” Spencer finishes.

“But you’re never going to be alone.  Not with us,” Morgan chimes in.

Feeling your jaw clench as you tremor with your unshed tears, you suck in a deep breath through your nose as you wrap your hand around your glass.

“I won’t come in there unless you ask,” Spencer says.

Looking up and out your window, you see Spencer’s body, one foot hanging out of the car door, ready to plant himself on your porch.

“I will not even approach your door unless you ask,” he adds.

Panting with rage as your face flushes deep, you pick up your phone and flick it shut, cutting the phone call as tears rumble down your face, your lips quivering as you yell out into the darkness of your home.

“God damn iiiiiiiiiiit!”

Picking up your glass, you whirl your body around and throw it behind you as it shatters against the fridge, the ice and amber liquid and glass covering the floor as you press your back up against the kitchen counter, your body curling inwards as you crouch down, your hands covering your face as you start to heave.

Hearing scurrying outside your door, you hear something fiddling with the lock before it clicks over, your door being thrown open as the strong patter of Spencer’s feet clamor across your foyer and over into your kitchen.

“It’s ok, Y/N,” he says, gliding over the broken glass and spilled liquid as you rock back and forth, your face in your hands as you hear a car crank up in your driveway.

“I’m here, and it’s going to be alright,” he murmurs into your hair as he picks you up in his arms, your body curling into him as he walks you out of your kitchen and over to your couch.

“It’s just me.  Morgan’s going home,” he says, watching you nod as you try to choke back your tears.

“Let them fall,” he urges, his thumb rising up to brush them away as your body hiccups with sobs, your hands trembling as you lay them on your legs, palms up.

“What have I done?” you squeeze out, your voice light and high as your throat constricts with embarrassment, “Oh god, what did I do?”

“Nothing.  You did nothing,” Spencer stresses as he wraps a blanket around your shoulders, sitting himself on your coffee table in front of you.

“But I…I…”

“Let me in,” he pleads, wrapping his hands around yours as he squeezes them lightly, his eyes searching your puffy, red, wet face as you slowly raise your gaze to his.

“Don’t leave me…” you whisper.

“Wasn’t planning on it,” he says, wiping a stray hair out of your face as he smiles weakly, “You’re stuck with me for at least the weekend.”

Nodding slowly as your gaze falls back to your lap, he leans in and presses a light kiss to your forehead.

“I’m going to go clean up the mess in the kitchen,” he says as he stands, releasing your hands, “And then we are going to curl up on this couch, turn on your favorite movie, and order some dinner.”

Nodding lightly as you sniffle, you wipe your nose on the blanket as he squeezes your knees, getting up and walking behind you as you hear his shoes crinkle over the broken glass.

Closing your hands as you shut your eyes, your brow furrows as your eyes fly open, looking down at the object in your hand.

“Keep that as a reminder,” you hear Spencer say behind you, “Until we can find yours.”

And as your eyes water at the sight of his three-year sobriety coin, you take a deep breath and lean back into the couch, pulling it in close to your heart as you listen to the rhythmic sweeping of your broom across the floor.

Reminder Of The Past

THIS WAS REQUESTED my masterlist is ready to go here. If you want something written you can request it right here!

Reader Gender: Female

Warnings: Nothing really

Request: Can you do an imagine were you know stiles name and the pack is begging you but you don’t tell? Thanks

“Come on Y/N!” Lydia protested the second Stiles and Scott had left the room, inching closer to you. You roll your eyes, ever since the pack found out that you knew Stiles’ real first name you had been hounded for the big reveal. It was a pack bonding night and Stiles and Scott had just left to get some takeaway for dinner, leaving you alone with all the people that didn’t know Stiles’ real name, but wanted to oh-so desperately. “Please Y/N?!” Kira begged from the other side of you, “We won’t tell anyone.” She said and the others nodded in agreement, as if they felt closer to getting you to crack. You sigh, looking around the pack. “You guys realise this is one of Stiles’ most important secrets, I only know it because I was close friends with the Stilinski family before I moved away.” You say, taking a sip of your drink. “And this was when we were all 5. He told me so that I wouldn’t forget him after I moved.” You explain. “If you really want to know, just ask him.” You say as your pack exchange glances. “We’ve tried, he wouldn’t even tell me!” Lydia objected, her eyes boring into yours. “Come on Y/N, it’s only a name.” She said with a smile. You shook your head, looking down at your lap as you spoke. “To Stiles it’s not just a name, it’s one of the last things that his mother has given him. He doesn’t want to see it butchered.” You say, looking up to see the packs, understanding expressions. “I’m going to lie down, send Stiles to get me when he and Scott get back.” You say before turning and marching out of the room and upstairs. The remainder of the pack sit in silence as they hear a door upstairs close and lock.

Stiles was worried to say the least when he arrived home to find the pack minus Y/N sitting in deep thought. Liam looked up when Scott and Stiles entered the room, brown paper bags clutched in their hands. “What happened?” Scott asked, looking at his friends with concern. Liam ignored him, looking at Stiles. “Y/N had to lie down, she wants you to get her when you get back.” Stiles didn’t waste a second, pushing the bags into Scott’s hand before running upstairs, his sneakered feet thumping against the stairs. Scott turned back to his pack, repeating his earlier question. “What the hell happened?”

Stiles knocked on his bedroom door, calling through the wood. “Y/n? It’s Stiles.” He heard some shuffling and the door unlocking, Stiles opened it, revealing your slightly dishevelled appearance. “What happened?” he asked, moving into the room and closing the door behind him. “They wanted to know your name.” You say, and Stiles pales slightly. “I didn’t tell them.” You say, watching as relief pours over Stiles’ face, the both of you knowing how close Stiles wanted to keep his name. “I didn’t tell them but I started thinking about how it used to be when we were younger and I needed to get away.” Stiles knew you were referencing when there was no supernatural problems, when people were;t alternating between friends and enemies every 2nd day. When life was so much simpler. Stiles pulled you into a tight hug, and moved his head next to your ear. “Thank you.” he whispered. “Thank you for everything.” To both you and Stiles, his full name was a reminder. A reminder of how it wall used to be.

A/N: Thanks for requesting! I hope you enjoy it, I made it a bit longer then I originally planned, but I hope you enjoy it nonetheless. Have a nice day/night xx

anonymous asked:

Jen comforting Josh pleaseeee

Thank you for the prompt! Again, this one wasn’t easy for me to settle on, but I got there eventually! Hope you like it! :)


The sweat coats my hair and dabs on to my forehead still, even though I’m almost home from the game.

Oh the game. The game, where I got my ass well and truly kicked. And then some.

I would laugh, but the throbbing from my ankle still pulses and burns. I probably shouldn’t be driving, but I’d somehow convinced everyone there that it wasn’t as bad as it looked. Hey, I’m an actor!

The gravel crunches under the tires and I grimace as I push down on the break, slowing into the driveway.

It’s just a sprain.

I turn the keys and cut off the ignition.

I let out a long breath before I click open the door. When I step out I only let my good foot drop, leaving the swollen one hovering just above the ground and my fingers curl tightly around the frame of the car. Jesus, get it together man!

It takes me longer than usual to reach the front door, limping a struggle and far too slow, so eventually, I settled for just hopping quickly. The sooner I’m in, the sooner I can sit back down.

“Josh? Is that you?”

I sigh, shakily, almost laughing thinking of the ribbing she’s gonna give me. “Yeah, it’s me! I’m gonna take a shower, I’ll be down in… in a bit!”

Shit it hurts. It hurts every step up to the bathroom. It hurts as I step into the shower before I switch my weight back to my other foot. The water helps, but running the towel over it as I dry makes me choke on a yelp. 

I can’t face the stairs, not again. So once I’m done and dressed into some shorts and a tee, I collapse in a tired and aching starfish on top of the bed covers, my hair still wet and my ankle still tight and hurting.

I close my eyes, only for a moment, I think.


My eyes fly open and I half sit up, then groan with the heaviness of my stupid, pathetic, now not okay ankle.

“Hey! I thought you were coming down!”

I smile sheepishly, having been caught napping, even though it was only for about fifteen minutes. Jen plops down on the bed beside me as I slide up slowly to sitting.

“How was your game?”

She leans in before I answer, her lips pressing to mine softly, sweet and delicate yet firm.


Her laugh falls out of her lips in a soft bark and dances around the walls. “Did you lose?”

I close my eyes and laugh through my nose, but nod my head too. “Sprained my ankle too.”

“Let me see.”

When I look at her again, she is deadly serious, and her lip is between her teeth as she worries.

“I’m fine. They looked me over, it’s just a sprain!”

I don’t stop her, and she wriggles her hands free of mine, moving to inspect the damage I caused myself.

So softly, her fingers ghost over the puffiness and the slight purple tinge. I flinch and she looks up and glares at me.

“I’m getting you some ice and some Ibuprofen. Here,” she reaches for the pillow on her side. “Keep it up. It looks like a bad one. DID YOU DRIVE HOME LIKE THIS?”

I don’t answer, just shrug and pull a face. She groans and rolls her eyes, making me laugh, but only once she’s halfway down the stairs.

When she breezes back into our bedroom she hands me the water and the tablets which I throw back, only hesitating slightly, the pain winning out. I feel tired and drained, exerted from playing so hard before I had to take a time out. My eyes are starting to drift closed, I can feel Jen’s weight come down on the bed beside me and the cool, wetness of the ice pack she just draped over my leg. Then nothing.

When I wake, it’s because the front door is slamming shut. Then her keys clatter on to the table right by the door, and she runs up the stairs, bursting into the room. She beams when she sees my open eyes.

“Oh, good. You’re awake. Here, Joshy. Dinner.”

I can’t help but curl my lips in a small smile back at her when I sit and actually see through my sleep. She plops down on the bed again, brown paper bag clutched in her fist. And then I beam back at her, the familiar, greasy, gloriously unhealthy smell wafting over to me.

“I bought you a Big Mac meal. And those cheese bites that you like.”

I laugh, taking my burger from her. “You mean that you like.”

“What’s mine is yours,” she squeezes out from the corner of her mouth, stuffed full with cheese burger. “How are you feeling?”

“Better now that you’ve brought me this.”

She shakes her head, but I can see her grinning. “So what did you do?”

“Jumped for the ball, missed it, landed one footed - on top of Connor’s foot. I got off worse.”

“You idiot,” she smiles softly, her tone not at all matching her statement. She sounds pretty concerned, her eyes soft and gentle to match her voice. “You sure you’re okay?”

“Yeah I’ll be fine. Give me a few days with you running around after me, and I’ll be back on my feet in no time.” I smirk at her and bump my shoulder against hers.

She rolls her eyes again, leaning her head down to my shoulder with a scoff. “Shut up and eat you McDonald’s.” 

Radioactive (Part Six)

Description: This is the last one folks! Thanks for reading, and I hope you enjoyed the ride. :)

Theme Song: I’m So Sorry - Imagine Dragons

Read Part One Here

Read Part Two Here

Read Part Three Here

Read Part Four Here

Read Part Five Here

When Dean opens his eyes, instead of kneeling on the ground with a bloody corpse in his arms, he is lying on his bed in the motel room. 

He sits up slowly, surveying the room as he wonders how much time has passed. The familiar scrape of a key being slid into the lock sounds, and after a moment Sam steps into the room clutching a brown paper bag.

“Did you get any sleep?” he asks when he sees that his brother is awake. “How’s your should-” He cuts off abruptly as Dean pulls him into a rough hug, still for a moment before clapping his older brother on the back.

Dean pulls away, eyes downcast.

“Dean, what’s the matter?” Sam asks, concern furrowing his brow.

“It’s nothing, I’m just…” Dean trails off, clenching his fists. He looks down at his hands, half expecting them to be covered in grime and Y/n’s blood, but they’re clean.

So that was his lesson. It wasn’t anything groundbreaking. It wasn’t a subtle message to stop messing with the angels or to say yes to Michael or any of that crap. It was Gabriel telling him to open his eyes and to think. To stop charging in, being reckless, suicidal.

Because you don’t always get to be the hero.

Y/n’s words echo in his ears, despite the silence of the room.

“Dean?” Sam’s voice, tentative, worried, startles Dean out of his thoughts.

“I’m sorry, Sammy,” Dean whispers. When he risks a glance at his brother, he sees that Sam’s eyebrows are pulled up in surprise.

“What?” Sam asks.

“You were right,” Dean continues. “About the case, about - about how I was acting. I was reckless. Stupid. I - I promise I’m going to work on that.”

Sam looks at the door, and Dean guesses he’s probably wondering if he just stumbled into the wrong room and found a convincing shapeshifter or something.

“Dean, what happened while I was gone?”

Dean sighs, sitting down heavily on the bed. “You’re not gonna believe me.”

Sam snorts. “Seriously? After everything we’ve been through? I’m pretty sure I’d believe anything.”

The corner of Dean’s mouth pulls up a little. “You’ve got me there.” He clasps his hands between his knees, wondering how it’s possible that the past five days of his life took place within twenty minutes.

Freaking angels.

Alright, Sammy. Let me start at the beginning.”


Dean climbs out of the Impala quickly, smoothing down the fabric of his suit as he squints at the police station in front of them. They’re working a case in Iowa, a possible werewolf attack.

“Who are we looking for again?” he asks, looking at Sam as his brother flips open his notebook.

“Officer … L/n,” Sam says, scanning his notes. “And Officer Lenworth. They’re the lead investigators on the case.”

“Perfect,” Dean says. “So we can-” 

He cuts off with a grunt as a small figure bowls into his legs, nearly knocking them both over.

“Sorry, mister!” the kid says without even looking at him, already running again.

Dean stares after him in confusion.

He almost looked like-

Jackson, be careful!” a woman’s voice calls, and Dean looks up in surprise to see the kid running straight to the side of a woman with blonde hair who is very obviously pregnant.

“Sorry, Mom,” he hears Jackson reply.


Hey, you okay?” Sam asks, touching Dean’s shoulder.

Dean jerks away. “Yeah, yeah, I’m fine. Just - deja vu or something.” He watches the mother and her son a moment longer before pushing open the door to the station.

“Can I help you boys?” the woman at the reception desk asks.

“Yes, we’re looking for Officers Lenworth and-” Dean cuts off again, staring past the receptionist and into the main office of the station.

Because there she is.

Y/n is leaning against a desk, head thrown back in laughter at something the man sitting next to her - Brandt - has said. She wears the blue uniform of a police officer, her h/c hair pulled back into a neat ponytail. As she smiles, her gaze flicks across the room and lands on Dean. Her head tilts a little, almost as if she recognizes him, but then she gives herself a little shake and turns back to the conversation.

“Y/n,” Dean whispers, unable to take his eyes off of her.

“Thank you,” Sam is saying, finishing up with the receptionist and eyeing his brother warily. He steers Dean away from the desk. “Come on, they’re over here.”

They make their way across the room to Y/n and Brandt.

“Excuse me, are you the officers working the Braden case?” Sam asks, reaching into his jacket for his badge.

Brandt raises his eyebrow. “Who’s asking?”

“We’re from the bureau,” Sam says, showing his badge. “Agency thought you could use a little help with this one.”

“The FBI is interested in an animal attack?” Y/n asks, pushing off of the desk and eyeing them suspiciously.

“Yeah, well, you know how it is,” Sam says conversationally. “When you piss off the higher ups, you get stuck with crap assignments.”

Y/n chuckles. “Tell me about it. I’m Y/n, and this is my partner, Brandt.”

“Agent Renley,” Sam says, shaking her hand.

Y/n turns to Dean expectantly. “And you are?”

Dean stares at her for a long moment, part of him wondering how she’s here, part of him not caring, and all of him wanting to pull her close and kiss her senseless.

He settles for shaking her hand.

“Y/n,” he says with a grin. “I’m Dean.”

And it’s over! Hope you liked it! Sorry it’s just a short little epilogue thing, I just didn’t think it fit to be with part five.