carrie & al

109 Shia Muslim Syrian civilians killedx

Civilians from the besieged Shia towns of Kafraya and Foah in Syria were attacked via car bomb on April 15th, 2017 while attempting to evacuate. 68 of these Shia civilians were children. 

The car bomb, really a salafi suicide bomber in a vehicle disguised as a bus filled with food and aid, detonated among an envoy of evacuation buses carrying Shia civilians. 

al-Qaeda components in Syria and other Sunni Islamic extremist factions of the opposition are known to target and kill Shias, whom they consider to be heretics.
Bon Soir [Lafayette x Reader] Part One

Description: You, an American patriot from a loyalist family, catch the eye of the Marquis De Lafayette one night at a tavern. After your first night with the enigmatic frenchman, you realize how turbulent life can really get in a time as turbulent as this. 

Warnings For This Chapter: Smut, alcohol, mild swearing, and mild Lams, where I could slip it in ;) 

Notes: So, there will be five parts to this story. It will, if we’re being honest here, be updated probably once or twice a week until it is finished. This story is a mix of Hamilton’s characters and actual historical stuff, and there will also be lots of appearances from the rev set in this fic, so brrrah, brrrah!! Enjoy. 

||Part Two||

It’s a beautiful night in the colony of New York, the moon full and the usual chill in the air slightly warmed. Besides it being a lovely night, it was also quite rowdy- but during these turbulent times, you couldn’t expect less from the Northern colonies.  

You pull your cloak tighter around your shoulders… it’s really not a night to be out for a lady, but you couldn’t care less. Your family still clings to the proverbial olive branch, one of the less popular voices of loyalist reconciliation. You’re a patriot, through and through, and any chance you have to escape your frankly shameful homestead under an anonymous family name at night to “cavort” with those who share your views on freedom, you take.

Slipping down a dark alley with the hood of your cloak pulled up, you find your way into the even rowdier Fraunces Tavern. Looking around, you smile. Men clinking their sloshing drinks together, shouts and jeers at the king tossed around liberally- this was the beginning of a revolution, and you’d be damned if you missed it.

“You lookin’ for a good time, honey?” some guy with a heavy Boston accent asks you from the table next to the door, and you turn to him.

“I’m looking for a drink, and whatever good time I can derive from that.” The guy still stares at you, waiting for a follow up, so you decide to win even more favour by voicing your views. “Fuck the king?”

The entire table bursts out in cheers and pounds their fists and mugs down repeatedly as you smirk and saunter past them. You get to the bar, and ask for a Sam Adams, before turning around and surveying. To answer the drunk man’s question, you aren’t actively seeking that sort of good time, really… but, nights like these were full of exceptions.

“Here you are, miss,” the friendly bartender nods to you, then pauses, “I’ve seen you in here a couple times now, and I don’t recall your name.” He looks genuinely confused. “Who’s your husband?”  

“I’ll let you know once I find one,” you wink, and cross the tavern to occupy a booth. Just as you’re lifting up your skirts to sit, the door crashes open, and in come four very loud young men.

“What time is it?!” one yells, and the other three yell back, “Showtime!” while cackling and slapping each other on the back.

You roll your eyes again, imagining all the fights they were sure to start tonight. The bartender seems to know them, and pours four ales for them as well. Snatching up his drink, the short one with the ponytail and goatee marches right up to the table in the middle, getting up on it and chugging half his mug.

“To the revolution!” he finally bursts out with, and almost trips off the table. The large one with the beanie catches him, shaking his head with a grin, and the second shortest one with curly hair and freckles joins the talker with a close arm around his shoulder.

“Now this is the place to be, amiright boys?!” freckles shouts, taking a long drink.

“Oui oui, mon ami,” another voice chuckles, and your interest is immediately peaked. A frenchman in the colonies? The excitement of these taverns is incomparable, and it is exciting to say the least to hear someone from so far away- you know a little of the language, or what you had learned as a girl.

You watch in quiet admiration as a tall, athletically built man with dark hair tied up in a bun and a close trimmed beard steps out, carrying two mugs of ale. He hands one to beanie man, and plops his own down on the table. “We must tell the king casse toi with our war effort!”

“We will, Laf,” beanie assures, “But first? Horses.”

“What?” freckles and goatee both say at the same time.

“Corsets,” beanie laughs, rubbing the back of his neck, “I meant corsets.”

“Hercules, you are an idiot,” Laf deadpans.

“I’m the most mature one here,” Hercules shoots back.

“Easy, when tes amis are Alexander Hamilton and John Laurens.”

Hercules lets out a booming laugh, and is soon joined by Laf’s own charming snicker. Alex and John are too enamoured with their own private conversation to notice much.

Your eyes train on Laf. If he was french, he must have a longer name than that… you’re determined to know it. He was undeniably a charmer- he was handsome, dashing as a prince, and very stylish. With the words he had uttered earlier, you found it safe to assume he’s as passionate about American independence as you are.

You make an excuse to walk by.

Heyyy there,” goatee (Alexander)? calls, swivelling his head to look at you.


Hercules lets out a low whistle as you turn to face them. “I don’t mean to be too forward, but madamn.”

"What the ever loving merde is that supposed to mean, Hercules?” Laf’s face scrunches up, and Herc just shrugs.

“Works on most of ‘em.”

“I’m Alexander Hamilton, bastard, orphan, son of a whore,” Alex jumps up, grasping your hands, and you can see the gears in his slightly drunk mind turning. “So I’d love to flirt for like, a really long time because you’re pretty and everything, but there’s a revolution to plot-”

“-And drink to!” John adds.

“-And drink to, as my beautiful lover Jackie just piped in and waaait, I’m probably not supposed to say shit like that in a tavern full of guys who will probably have me castrated for it, but hey, we die like men, right?”

“Yo, um, sorry 'bout him,” John blushes with a slight slur, coming over to guide Alex back to his seat. “He gets- *hic*- chatty when he’s tipsy.” You just laugh, letting them know it’s no big deal. John doesn’t seem very interested in you romantically or sexually, only greets with a good natured- albeit tipsy as well- smile. Hercules gets up to introduce himself.

“Hercules Mulligan. I’m Irish.” He drops his voice down to a whisper. “That’s kind of my thing.” Laf gets up to hip bump Hercules out of the way, take your hand, and press a kiss to it. You blush deeply.

“Bon soir, belle mademoiselle. I am Paul Yves Roch-”

Heeere we go,” Alex slurs.

“-Gilbert de Motier de Marquis de Lafayette,” Laf finishes with a glare to his friends, then turns back to you with a gaze that could only be described as… lust ridden?

“Plaisir,” you reply in french, and his eyes widen, his entire body straightening like an arrow in excitement.

“You speak my mother tongue, cherie?!”

“Only a little,” you confess with a timid giggle, “I’m not French, monsieur Lafayette, only acquired some words from my studies.”

“Gorgeous and intelligent,” he flirts, “A lady after my heart.”

“Handsome and bold,” you volley back, “A man after mine.”

“OHHHH SHIT!” John shouts, and Alex begins to laugh.


“Not you two,” Laf growls, and John and Alex tumble over each other watching you both. Hercules just rolls his eyes, and downs his drink.

“Care to drink with us?” Lafayette offers, outstretching his hand, and you happily accept. Hercules gets up to grab you another beer, and slides it over to you. John begins to chug his second, and you smirk, taking it as a challenge. Downing yours to the last drop, you’ve finally earned the respect of Hercules Mulligan as he bangs on the table and shakes his head.

“You are getting better and better as the night goes on,” Laf whispers, and you laugh.

“Is that the alcohol talking?”

“On the contrary, cherie, I am still on my first… though I may be thinking with something other than my mind,” he alludes, and you feel a shiver run through you.

He is very attractive.

“What brings you to the colonies?” you ask Lafayette conversationally, and he takes a sip of his ale.


“You’re here for congressional duties?” you feign ignorance, though you know how to identify a congressman- powdered wigs, brightly coloured jackets, and stuffy mannerisms. Nothing Laf possessed.

“Ah no, mademoiselle. War is imminent- that is the talk here and overseas. I will fight as one of you for your glorious country!”

“Ayyy, to our fighting frenchman!” Alex lifts his mug, and John raises his as well.

“Very brave,” you murmur, “I wish I could serve in the continental army.”

“You can still do your part at home,” Laf assures, taking your hands excitedly, “You can make gunpowder, you can sew uniforms, you can…” he suddenly hesitates, lowering his eyes, “Pray for and write letters to your husband.”

“Why does everyone in this tavern assume I have a husband?” you tease, and he looks back up.

“Forgive me. No one has, eh… courted you yet?”

“Courted me? Oh, quite a few. I have yet to accept,” you giggle, “I suppose I’m just as hard to please as the next young lady.”

“I, too, have very specific tastes,” he nods, and bites his lip, “Mais, it would be very nice to have a woman to boost my morale on the battlefield.”

“Wait… hey, what’s your name?” John laughs, “We didn’t even ask!”

“Oh,” you blush, eye contact with Lafayette broken, “Um…” You sigh. It shouldn’t be any trouble to give them your real name. “(y/n) (y/l/n).”

Everyone repeats your name, raises a glass, and drinks. Lafayette smirks at you a moment longer, then drinks as well.

As the night wears on, you start to become even closer with the group. Stories are passed around, drinking games are played, and talk that would’ve sounded like treason in many other colonies flowed freely from your mouth with the boys. As the night begins to dwindle with the candles burning down close by, hands begin to wander, skirts began to lift a few inches, and blood begins to rise.

“Raise one last glass to freedom,” John finally says, somewhat soberly, as everyone stands up, “Something they can never take away.”

“No matter what they tell you,” Herc adds, placing a hand over his heart.

“Raise a glass to the… five of us, here tonight,” Alex nods, looking to you, “Our cause is a great one.”

“King George will never stand a chance,” you finish, and everyone downs their last sip and sits back down. With that, Laf takes your hand, rubbing a thumb over your knuckle. You turn to him, and take note of how he’s staring at your lips. Danger and adrenaline course through your veins, imagining just what he could be picturing right now. Practically in his lap by now, you shift your hips a little, and he sucks in a sharp breath.

“It is getting late, ma cherie,” he murmurs, obviously holding back, and begins to stand.

“It is,” you nod, moving to brush your fingers along the hem of his blue coat, and grasp your fingers firmly in his lapel. His eyes dart to meet yours, dark and warning, and his fingers find yours as he lets out a wistful sigh.

“(y/n)… I am a gentleman, and you have had too much to drink.”

“I assure you,” you grin, turning the tables and ghosting a kiss over his knuckles, “I have not.”

He spends a long time staring at you, debating mentally. You can feel him hardening in his breeches under you, but despite his uncomfortable expression and beading sweat, he doesn’t make even the slightest nudge to meet your grinding movements.

“Are you quite certain?” he finally asks, interest beginning to spark again in his eyes as he realizes that maybe you do want him like this.

“All I want is to feel your lips on my neck,” you confirm with a whisper in his ear, and he slots his large hand around your wrist, standing you up. The three others don’t even question it as Laf leads you out the back door, and the once the heavy wooden door closes, you’re both free. He immediately presses the front of you right up against the brick, pulling your hair aside and grazing his teeth over the back of your neck.

“Then, if there are no reservations on either of our parts, I will give you everything you need,” he growls, and continues his attack on your neck, showering kisses up and down. You flip around so that you can face him, and he pins you back again, opening up the neck of your dress just a little more for better access.

Lafayette’s gaze is hungry. Your excitement is known to him as he reaches under your dress, unbuttons your underclothes and realizes you’re already wet for him.

“So eager,” he groans, “Such an eager little kitten, desperate for her papa, hm?”

“Oh,” you sigh, his words sending pulses down to your core. He pulls your underclothes off, but as his long fingers are about to breach you, he pauses.

“You… have been touched or taken before, yes?”

You bite your lip, look around, and nod shyly. If word of that got out around here, you’d be off the market, as it were…. not that you particularly desired to on the market, but that was a different matter entirely. His face blossoms into a grin, and he lifts your legs up to wrap around him.

“Hold onto me, cherie, do not let go,” he murmurs, and once your arms are secure around his neck as well, he uses one hand to unbutton his breeches. You can already see the outline of his large cock, and once he has everything undone, he pulls it out.

“Monsieur, you’re so big,” you whine, and he gazes at you, licking his lips.

“We can make it fit, ma cherie,” he whispers, “Spread your legs a little wider for me… that is it, kitten… like that.”

You keen under the pet name, and he positions himself at your entrance before finally pushing in, groaning together with you as you tighten around him.

“Oui, oui, yes…” he breathes, “That is good… so good for me…” He sucks his lip between his teeth, and after a few seconds, begins to move, nudging you back against the wall with each deep thrust. He’s very large, so he has no trouble hitting that spot that drives you crazy, but he makes it even better when his fingers find your clit; Laf has a different approach than most men do, though- the select few you’d been with (if they make the effort to find it at all) rub with harsh, rough pushes… Lafayette massages you in slow circles, making you moan for him.

Leaning forward, the intensity between you increases as your foreheads meet, lips drifting close to each other and parting, almost kissing but not for minutes at a time. The teasing was getting to him, and he finally surges forward, breathing in your breath. You give his bottom lip a feisty bite, and he smiles, drawing away.

“You are a true northern belle, mademoiselle (y/n),” he mumbles, panting, “You are not like other ladies.”

“Oh, on the contrary sir,” you reply, “I simply don’t bother with the false customs. I say, fuck tradition, and fuck anybody who wishes to advise me otherwise.”

“There is a revolution on because of Americans who share your general mindset, ma chou,” he grins, and kisses you again.

As you both begin to race toward your climax, his thrusts increase, and you’re soon being pounded into the wall, legs tight around his ass and cries being muffled in his blue coat.

“Please… ah, Laf….”

“(y/n), so perfect, j’aime votre parfum…”

As he whispers your name, you hear voices, and turn to see two men walking by the alley on the road, in hats and coats. They sound southern.

“What if th…th-” you gasp, and Laf strokes your cheek.

“They will not see us, it is too dark. Besides, why would anybody pay attention to a stray kitten, begging in an alley, like you?”

“Ah,” you throb again at his dark laugh, and he shrugs.

“Also, the alleyway behind a tavern is where all the drunkards stumble out to vomit. No respectable man or woman wants to see that.”

“What an arousing image,” you scowl, and lean in for another kiss.

“You are so beautiful,” he mumbles against your lips once you part, and licks a line up your neck to just below your ear; you’re losing yourself to the pleasure. “Do you think you can come for me, ma (y/n)?” Laf rasps in your ear, stroking over your clit fondly, and you nod with a little whine, crying out his name softly as he slams in particularly hard. Circling his hips to guide you through a long orgasm, he lets out a little gasp of his own after you’ve finished. As you shake and pant his name, he sets you down carefully before quickly pulling out and taking himself in hand, jerking frantically a couple times and coming like a shot against the brick wall. Your name falls from his lips a few times like a prayer, and soon, you’re both sated and exchanging lazy tongue kisses, tasting each other’s mouths in the night air.

It’s chillier than it was earlier. You should get home before your one of your sisters or father notices you’re gone.

“When do you leave to join the ranks?” you ask, staring into his eyes. He does up his buttons precisely, patiently and one at a time.

“Very soon, I assume, cherie.”

“How very childish of me, but… what you said, about having someone to look out for you…”


“Will you…” you look down, embarrassed, and take off a ring on your pinky finger. “Remember me over a couple beers with your friends?”

His eyes light up, and he presses a long kiss to your cheek.

“When I wake up and when I fall asleep, (y/n).”

You smile a little. “Thank you for your service.”

He kisses your hand one last time. “If it takes fighting a war and, eh…” he leans in to your ear, brushing your hair back, “getting better acquainted behind a tavern to meet, it will, most certainly, have been worth it, ma chou,” he smiles back.

You dance and sigh your way home, ignorant of every redcoat who gives you a second dirty look. With men like the Marquis de Lafayette and his friends leading the troops, those bastards’ll be back home where they belong in no time.

batfam at school

cass: freshman. the quiet kid everyone’s scared of until they find out she’ll do any dare. once ate a piece of moldy pizza during Truth or Dare. teachers love her because she follows assignment rules to a T. dick picks her up and drops her off

jay: senior. is the sweet lit nerd that always, ALWAYS argues with the teachers abt books and would die for his bffs. will also dare people to do things with life changing results. gets a ride from kori with roy

dick: was a senior but no longer attends because he back flipped off the main stairs one time too many. was a Good Student but didn’t do shit in class. drove himself

tim: junior. moody bitch. will maul a kindergartner for his coffee. broken geek glasses from stepping on them so often. walks home with steph after a long day of not doing shit in class

steph: junior. down to fight anyone. will definitely win every time. used to be friendly, now just wants to get through the day without murdering anyone. walks home with tim

duke: freshman. is the only halfway decent kid of bruce wayne despite being a freshmen??? he’s still a shit tho. will often be seen conspiring with cass or jay abt pranks. teachers fear him. is also picked up by dick after school

carrie: is in the 5th grade. also the youngest troublemaker of the family. will act perfect in front of alfred and bruce but turns into the actual devil when they’re gone. bruce picks her up

dami: in the 2nd grade but sure as fuck doesn’t act like it. is demonic to his peers, his teachers, and his family. is nice to alfred and cass. is a perfect student aside from being a total dick. is also picked up by bruce

night and day

this is my commission for @cabeswaterlovesthem for @tfcfansgive! hope you guys all enjoy some fluffy lailalvarez, and don’t forget to check the compilation zine which will come out july 11th!

“I was meant to have a week to stop thinking about her,” Laila groans, throwing herself onto Chey’s bed.

“But instead you figured out you have the hots for her,” Chey replies with no small amount of smugness, though she does submit to stroking Laila’s hair.

“No! It’s not like that.”

“Isn’t it?”

Laila bites her lip. “It might be a little bit like that. But she’s a dick! Just ‘cause I like her stupid hair doesn’t mean I like her.”

“Kinda seems like it does,” Chey says musingly.

“All I really know about her is that she’s a good backliner and she’s kinda funny, I guess, when it’s not directed against me.”

“And that she has great hair.”

“And face and eyes and- she’s very pretty, I can admit that, I’m not too petty to admit that.” Laila groans, realising the mocking thoughts in her head sound remarkably like Alvarez’s voice, little hints of a more Southern accent than her own bleeding through. “How weird would it be if I added her on Facebook mid-spring break to find out if she’s actually a prick to everyone or just me?”

“Very weird,” Chey says, plucking Laila’s phone from her hand.


This was it, Kingsman had been eliminated all except for you, Eggsy and Merlin. Thank goodness you and Eggsy had gone away for the weekend instead of staying at home. It had been a last minute decision, Eggsy wanted to whisk you away for a romantic break after a tough few months at work for the both of you. It was such a beautiful weekend, you’d relaxed and spent every minute together, then you’d come back to this. Both of you crashed back to earth when you’d found out what had happened. Now was the doomsday protocol, none of you knew what it meant, but it lead you to a bottle of whiskey. The three of you sat around the table drinking it, toasting to all those you’d lost.
“Hey, hold on, shhh, I think we might be goin’ Kentucky,” Eggsy slurred as the bottle almost finished.
“Fried chicken? I love fried chicken,” Merlin exclaims, nodding his head slowly.
“Chicken? I want chicken!” You chime in.
“No! Guys, actual Kentucky… y'know, in America,” Eggsy explains slowly so that you both understood.
“Oh!” You say, hitting the table with your palm, “TO AMERICA!”

Within a couple of days, you’d arrived in Kentucky and were taking a tour of the Statesman distillery.
“I don’t think Whiskey requires an electronic locking system door to protect it,” Eggsy says as you break off from the group and he opens the door. You all step inside to what appears to be a normal looking distillery, large barrels surrounding you all, but you each wander off to find an entrance somewhere.
“Well hello there pretty lady,” a deep southern American voice says from behind you. You turn around to see a tall man in a stetson, hands on his hips as he looks you up and down.
“Hi there,” you smile.
“Now what’s a gorgeous girl like you doing in a place like this?”
“I was on the tour, and I think I came in the wrong door,” you say innocently.
“Well now that’s odd, because our door here ain’t easy to get through. Come on now, baby, just tell me what y'all doing here,” he says, moving a bit closer to you. Suddenly Eggsy and Merlin appear from around the corner, startling the man in front of you and he gets out a gun.
“We’re from Kingsman,” Merlin says, holding his hands up.
“What the hell you on about? You’re all coming with me,” the man says, pushing you towards Eggsy and Merlin. Eggsy catches you, stroking your arm, then you all walk to a room where you’re tied to chairs.
“What the hell is going on here?” A woman asks as she enters the room, waving an umbrella, “they’re from Kingsman! Until them please Tequila.”
“I thought that was a myth,” he says.
“I found this in our doomsday protocol lock up. It’s real,” she sighs, handing him the umbrella to look at.
“Oh, shit! Well I am so sorry,” he says, starting to untie you, “especially to you. I would not wanna offend such a lovely lady like yourself.”
“Thanks, it’s not a problem. I understand the apprehension,” you smile politely as he moves on to Eggsy, his eyes not leaving you.
“Hey, wanna look at what you’re untying, mate?” Eggsy asks as Tequila fumbles with the rope.
“Sorry man, you know how it is. Put a beautiful lady in the room, where do you expect me to look, y'know?” He laughs.
“Yeah, well not when the lady is my wife, alright bruv?”
“Oh, dude, say no more. I’m sorry,” Tequila says as he takes the rope off of Eggsy and holds his hands up in defeat. Eggsy straightens himself out and gives him a small nod, then turns to you. You laugh as Eggsy’s reaction and he takes your hand between the chairs.
“Is it okay if we can freshen up somewhere?” You ask the woman, who has introduced herself as Ginger Ale.
“Of course, please follow me,” she smiles, gesturing to the door, “We have a room here, you can get some sleep if you want as well, must have been a long flight, and I’m sure Tequila didn’t help.”
“That’s great, thank you so much. A nap would be quite nice right now,” you agree. Eggsy follows you in and Ginger Ale carries on down the corridor to show Merlin his room.
“I’ve been waiting to get you alone for so fuckin’ long,” Eggsy says, pressing himself against your back and siding his hands around your waist, dipping his fingers underneath your waistband.
“Babe, I’m so tired, can we just get some sleep first?” You yawn, turning around in his arms and kissing him.
“Of course babe,” Eggsy smiles, kissing your neck. You both undress and get into bed, falling asleep very quickly after your heads hit the pillow.
You wake up a few hours later, thirsty as hell, so you grab Eggsy’s shirt to slip on, and make your way out of the room.
“Oh my word,” Tequila says as you tip toe down the hallway, “I’m sorry, I promised your man I wouldn’t do this, but damn girl, you come outta your room looking like that. How can I not appreciate the view?” You pull the shirt down, trying to cover as much of your legs as possible.
“Where can I get some water?” You ask.
“Let me show you, baby,” he says, guiding you a couple of doors down where there’s a small kitchen with a fridge. He leans down and gets two bottles out.
“Here ya go, darlin’. One for you and your man,” he smirks, holding them out to you.
“Thanks. I appreciate it,” you smile, then turn around and head back to your room. When you come out of the kitchen, Eggsy stands there, just his boxers on, arms folded, and brow furrowed.
“You okay?” He asks.
“I’m fine, just got us some water,” you smile.
“Come on,” he says, putting his arm around you and leading you back to your room. You sit on the edge of the bed, sipping water as Eggsy lays next to you, staring up at your now naked back.
“I don’t like him,” he says. You turn around and lay next to him, stroking his face.
“He keeps flirting with you.”
“It’s harmless, babe. Don’t worry about it,” you soothe, kissing his nose. You both fall asleep again, not waking until morning. You both get dressed and as you head out of the door, Eggsy leans down to your shoulder.
“I love you,” he whispers.
“I love you too,” you smile. As you head into the room you were tied up in yesterday, you clock Merlin staring at the wall in shock. When you enter, you both look toward where his gaze is fixed and you both can’t believe your eyes.
“Fuckin’ hell,” Eggsy gasps. Standing there, behind a two way mirror, was Harry, alive and well. Ginger takes Merlin and Eggsy to see him, explaining his condition, as you look on through the window.
“You know him?” Tequila asks, suddenly appearing next to you.
“Yeah, he was one of our best agents.”
“It’s a miracle he survived, Ginger is magical, I swear,” he laughs.
“I’ll agree with that!” You laugh.
“Shame you decided to wear more clothes today, I gotta say. That shirt was more than enough,” Tequila says, licking his lips.
“Well, I did have to give my husband his shirt back,” you smirk.
“Damn, that’s a real shame y'know.”
“Yeah, I know, I’d love to see Eggsy topless all the time,” you smile as you walk out and head back to your room.
A little while later, Eggsy comes back in, obviously affected by his talk with Harry, and explains the extent of his memory loss, getting upset as he talks.
“Shh, it’s okay,” you soothe, bringing his head onto your chest, stroking his hair.
“And that fuckin’ agent, I swear to god I’m gonna kill him,” he mumbles.
“What? Why?” You laugh a little.
“I heard the recording of what you two spoke about when I was in with Harry. He’s such a dick.”
“Baby, you have nothing to worry about.”
“I know, it’s just, I already told him to leave it. I was proud of what you said though,” he smiles against your chest.
“Well, its true, it is a real shame I can’t get to see you walk around topless all day!”
“Same goes for you, love.”

  • you, an idiot: there are 4 robins
  • me, an intellectual: correct: dick, jason, carrie, tim-
  • you: see? i told you-
  • me, still going, and smarter than you: -steph, tim again, dami, duke
  • you: please stop