creased jeans

Tease (M) | Jungkook

Anonymous Requested : Sub!Jungkook with thigh riding

A/N : I combined two Jungkook anon requests, hope you don’t mind!

Genre : Smut || Jungkook x Reader

Word Count : 2,257

Description : Contrary to Jungkook’s confident stage appearance, when placed in situations involving people of the opposite sex he turns shy. So when you start teasing your boyfriend at a company dinner party, things only get interesting from there. 

Originally posted by agustd

You could feel him stiffen underneath your touch when you grazed your hand along the inside of his thigh, as you sat around the table of the company dinner party. You decide that his reaction is cute, and that you want more, so you slowly start to inch your way closer to the hardness that you already knew was growing inside of his pants. A slight chuckle escapes your mouth when he flinches so hard that he jerks his knee up causing the entire table to shake, making his glass of water fall directly onto his lap.

“Oh shit, sorry.” He jumps up immediately, and everyone starts to laugh at the klutzy behavior of the usually poise Jungkook.

“Nice going, aren’t you supposed to be golden or something?”

The slightly joking, slightly serious joke comes from Yoongi, who had looked completely bored the whole evening. You couldn’t blame him though, this dinner party was taking way too long, and all you’d been thinking about the entire time was how much you wanted to drag Jungkook back up to your hotel room so you could play with him some more.

“Hey, be nice. Go up to your and Y/N’s room and change really quick.”

The words come from Namjoon, and Jungkook quickly nods his head, and starts to walk from the hotel dining hall towards your room.

“I’m going to go too, I don’t feel very well.”

You don’t even wait to hear or look at the other member’s reactions because you’re sure they already know what’s going on, and you just couldn’t wait any longer. You catch up to Jungkook right as he’s getting on the elevator. Once the doors shut he turns to face you, and shows off his annoyed expression.

“What’s wrong?” You ask playfully.

“You know what Y/N, why’d you do that? Someone could’ve seen you, and I caused a commotion.”

“I would hardly call it a commotion” you started, but then decide to step closer to him, making him press against the elevator wall before continuing “and I’m sorry you just get flustered so easily, and it’s so cute.” You say the last part in a hushed whisper as you close the remaining space between the both of you.

You see his breath hitch from your words, and you feel the surge of power course through you.

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||❥ artistic (nsfw)

j u n ! s c e n a r i o

Originally posted by minyoangi

queued.

word count: 2,143

genre: ohohoho it’s more nsfw filth.

click below the cut to find out what is included. just a lil heads up sub!junhui is comin ur way u’ve been warned i’m already packing my things n heading into the ozark mountains.

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anonymous asked:

Could you write sleepy Eren kissing Mikasa in front of everyone and not realizing what he just did. They aren't together so everyone is like wait..did they..?? He wakes up and goes straight to the kitchen where Mikasa and Historia are finishing up cooking breakfast and the rest of squad is sitting at the table waiting. Eren passes everyone going straight to Mikasa. He kisses her and mumbles good morning before sitting down at the table.

Onlook

Pairing: Eren/Mikasa || Rating: K  || Words: 594 || [AO3]

Warnings: none

A/N: This was such a cute request! Thank you very much :3 This is from Armin’s POV, and it takes place right after Hanji performs experiments on Eren :)

“How’s Eren?”

“He’d be fine if Hanji-san could control herself.”

He doesn’t miss the violent manner her chopping begins to take.

“Mikasa… She apologized already. She’s just… eccentric when it comes to her research.”

She sets down the knife and sighs, gathering potato peels into her hands.

“Eren is fine. His fever went down.” As she tosses the peels, he notes the slight swell of skin beneath her eyes.

“You were there all night, weren’t you?”

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anonymous asked:

I have a prompt request my lovely! How about Jean experiencing some form of physical pain that would normally, you know, physically pain someone, during like practice or an outing or something but he just shrugs it off as if it were nothing but the thing is it was nothing because he is so used to immense torture that it was almost a refreshing sort of pain and nothing like Riko but the Trojans just kind of pause in his nonchalance cause any of them would be flipping out. Jerejean together please

Here you are! I hope you enjoy! It’s always tricky writing Jerejean at USC without invoking the captain power balance, but hopefully I balanced it.

The way Jean plays Exy isn’t made to look pretty. Strikers are the ones who make the game look elegant, with fancy footwork and quick saves. Jean is there to essentially act as a human battering ram.

It takes the Trojans a while to adjust to his style in scrimmages and in turn, he learns that while he should give his best at practice, he’s not in competition with his teammates like he was with the Ravens. That being said, old habits die hard and when he gets frustrated or feels like he isn’t doing well enough, and feels Riko’s phantom eyes on his back, he gets aggressive.

One particular day, Jean wakes up and is immediately on edge. He had a wretched nightmare, he’s barely slept and he can feel the Nest’s influence in his bones. Jeremy shoots him nervous looks while they get their gear on, but Jean waves him off, already feeling guilty enough about how he had to kick Jeremy out of his bed in the middle of the night, too claustrophobic to have anyone near him.

He pulls his helmet on and makes his way to the court.

Warm-ups and drills go without a hitch, but once they start to scrimmage, Jean feels off. He makes stupid mistakes, letting one too many strikers past him. He compensates with harder checks, riskier blocks. Eventually, he’s so frustrated that when he sees someone coming toward him, his body tells him to step left, but his mind makes him hold his ground, frozen, as the person barrels into him.

They both hit the ground hard, but Jean mostly breaks the striker’s fall. They pull their helmet off and ask, “You okay?”

He started to sit up, but she holds him down. “You need to stay, you hit your head pretty hard.”

He huffed, annoyed. “I am fine.”

Jeremy ran over at that moment to check on the situation. Seeing that Angelina was fine, he turned to Jean. “We’re gonna send someone over to look, okay?”

Jean sat up, ignoring their balking. “There’s no need.”

Jeremy’s forehead creased in concern. “Jean…you could have a concussion.”

“I know what a concussion feels like. I’m alright.”

Jeremy sighed. “I would still prefer if you sat out the rest of practice. But it’s up to you.”

Jean felt something ease in his chest. “I can play.”

Jeremy nodded. “Okay. But I have to have someone check you out really quick.”

Jean agreed and they went through the check. “No concussion.”

That night, Jean knew he and Jeremy would have to talk about all that transpired that day. Sure enough, Jeremy lasted two minutes before saying, “Listen, Jean, about practice…”

“It’s alright, Jeremy. I understand.”

“No, it isn’t. I didn’t know what to do. I didn’t want you to be hurt, but telling you what to do…I feel like him. And I don’t ever want to be that to you.”

“Riko would have made me play.”

“But am I any better if I still tell you what to do? I don’t want to act like I know what’s best.”

“You’re doing it because you care and it’s your job. He did it for control The difference is you don’t act like you have the right to tell me what to do off the field. I can differentiate the two.”

“I know, but-”

“Jere. Stop. I trust you. I know you won’t hurt me. The fact that we’re even having this conversation tells me that you’ll never be Riko.”

He patted the spot next to him until Jeremy hesitantly sat next to him. He leaned his head against Jean’s shoulder. “Does this mean I can sleep in your bed tonight?”

Jean chuckled and thought about how Jeremy immediately did what he asked, without question, at four in the morning and pulled him closer. “Of course.”

“Good,” came Jeremy’s muffled voice, “I missed you.”

Jean kissed his forehead. Bad days still happened, but he never had to face them alone.

Rescue •P10•

Avengers x Reader

Summary: reader is getting a tour of her new job at the Avengers tower, but happens to be the only one who notices an oncoming jet, about to crash into the building.

Word Count: 2085

 

Warnings: angst, Tony being a fluffy bear, cliffhanger ;)

A/N: AHAHA are you ready? I bet my ass you’re not. Enjoy 💛

“How are you keeping him out?” Penny sat cross-legged on my bed, folding my laundry with me.

“I locked him out on my security panel.” I muttered, flattening out a creased pair of dark jeans.

“Can’t he override that?” she raises an eyebrow. I shrug. A sigh escapes her lips.

“You should at least figure out what he was talking about.” she says it like a suggestion.


“I don’t really want to. I just don’t to know how much he’s keeping from me and—it’s like, he’s the only reason I’m alive. I dunno. I thought he would be honest with me. It’s my life on the line.” I say quietly.

“Один.” I can’t help but flinch at the word, or its new meaning. I lean over to my bedside table and grab the notepad and pen and jot down, “One.” Penny gazes down, a look of dismay crossing her face as she watches me scribble down the report.

“You’re right. He is the only reason you’re alive, which means you can’t keep him out like this. He’s trying to help.” she looks at me firmly. I roll my eyes.

“Alright, Mother Goose. But…later.” I scoop an armful of folded shirts and walk off to my dresser.

“Come on, come on,” someone mutters from outside the door. Their voice is so far away, it’s like I’m listening to it from a cell phone, “come out. Please.” they plead. I can’t identify them. My eyes are twitching with the effort to close them. I can’t close them.

My lungs close up like a popped balloon. Long live the oblivion child, someone chants. They say it again and again and again, each time, someone joining in with them. All I hear are the chants, and as my eyes finally fly shut, the pictures slide into my vision. Grainy black and white images of men chanting angrily. Long live the oblivion child, they cry with their fists in the air. They make a clear path in the middle of their crowd for a single, scrawny man to come through. And in his arms, a baby. The chants stop, replaced by cheering as the man approaches a tank. Long live the oblivion child, they scream, less of a mantra and more of a call to one another. The skinny man places the crying child into the tank and backs away with a soft smile. Your time will come, he whispers, and the only thing I hear are the echoes of his words and the screams in my throat.

I fiddle with my fingers to keep them from shaking. The room is dead silent. I want to kick myself, for letting it happen again. I was doing so well.

“It’s not your fault,” Dr. Simone says for the fourth time, “stop blaming yourself for things you can’t control.” I bite my lips and try to change the topic so I can stop feeling so lousy. I can fix this.

“I saw….” I begin, “the black and white film.” Dr. Simone nods and jots something down on his clipboard. From where I sit, I can make out the word induced. “There was a baby.” I whisper, trying to push down the rising storm in my chest. “Men…a tank. Big tank. Too big.” My eyes close.

“Do you know where it was? Can you describe the setting?” Dr. Simone coaxes. I furrow my eyebrows before shaking my head.

“Dunno.” I murmur. “Um…they were chanting. Long live the oblivion child,” I shudder as I say the words out loud. “They put the baby in the tank.”

“What were the men wearing?” Dr. Simone asks. He asks for little details to urge more out of me without overwhelming me. The strategy works well.

“Coats. Big hats. Gloves.” I frown at the image. “But…it was inside.” Dr. Simone stops writing and stares at the paper in alarm. His brows knit into a puzzled expression. “That’s all.” I say. He finishes writing and puts the clipboard on his desk, then turns to me.

“Okay.” he says, leaning forward. “You need to talk to Tony.” he says softly but firmly. I sigh.

“I know.” My head turns to the mirror on the wall, looking through it and to where I know he’s standing.

I stare up at the ceiling and take a deep breath. The bright light I stare into should hurt my eyes, but I guess that’s another advantage of super serum. Ok. Here we go.

I plant my thumb into the identification panel and wait for the door to let out a beep. It slides open for me, and my feet hesitantly shuffle inside. The quiet murmuring of instructions dies down, and I know I’ve been spotted. The door slides shut behind me. My gaze slowly raises to pan around the lab. Tony and a few associates are stationed at a table on the far side of the room. His employees have backed away from him to let him have a moment to stare at me. I take a deep breath, look him dead in the eyes, and wait. He gets the message and his gaze softens. He nudges his chin to the glass conference room in the corner of the room.

“Brain shock therapy.” he says after an eternity of silence. His hands grip the chair he stands behind, not looking at me. I watch him in confusion, my silence urging him to go on. “T’Challa’s team tried it as a sort of last measure when they were trying to fix Barnes. They send a bunch of chemical nerve radiation into the brain, targeting your memories. Sort of like a clearance to all the brainwashing.” he nods. It’s quiet for a while.


“But…?” I ask. He sighs loudly.

“But…but it’s dangerous. Very. The results they had with Barnes were positive, but they weren’t supposed to be. They think all the brainwashing he already endured made him stronger, less affected.”

“I’ve probably endured a lot of brainwashing.” I shake my head.

“But we don’t know that.” Tony tries. He finally looks up from the table and at me. His face is soft, concerned. “I`m not gonna risk harming you based on a what-if.” he tilts his head. “I”m sorry, Y/N. I am. But it hasn’t changed my mind.” I process what he’s said, wishing that I agreed with him. My face crumples the littlest bit, but I hold it.

“I want to do it, Tony.” I whisper. He inhales, as if he was anticipating my answer.

“Y/N-”

“I don’t want to live my life like it’s a secret.” I choke, suddenly emotional. My eyes flutter closed, urging the tears away. They disobey and slide down my cheeks to spite me. “I don’t want to just…exist here everyday. A nutjob locked away in a big building. God. I’ve been here for five months. I haven’t gone outside in five months.” I shake my head at the realization, the lump in my throat growing by the second. “Please,” my shiny eyes meet his, “just…let me try.”

“You can’t, Y/N, please.” Penny begs, gripping my fingers until I feel they might fall off. It reminds me of a distant image of her hand wrapped around mine in excitement, a little golden tassel dangling from her cap. I narrow my eyes to pinpoint the memory. I can’t. A sinking feeling overwhelms me. It’s getting worse.

“I have to, Pen.” And now, I believe it more than ever. “I’m gonna go insane, even more insane, if I keep on going like this. Please understand.” I say the last part in a whisper with my head hanging. She waits a long time before letting out a defeated sigh.

“I just don’t want you to get hurt.” she utters. I squeeze her fingers back and lift my gaze to meet hers. She pulls me into a hug.

“I am hurting.” I mumble into her shoulder.

I take a deep breath in an attempt to calm my growing nerves and to quiet the sounds of gunshots echoing through the vacant spaces of my mind. Dr. Banner places a light hand on my shoulder to regain my attention.

“…and we’ll be following along with your vitals and brain activity. Unfortunately, it’s highly dangerous to pull you out if you’re in the middle of the shock process, so whatever happens, we need to follow through. Are you prepared for that?” he leans into me to display the urgency of the question. I inhale again and swallow down my panicking thoughts before nodding with resolute. He stares at me disapprovingly for a moment, but I’ve long since cared. No one wants me to do this. But no one knows what it’s like. As horrible as it sounds, I either want to know it all, or not know anything at all. “Okay.” he sighs finally. “If all goes well, then you’ll be in a coma for up to a week. Just…reliving. It’s going to be completely draining, and you’ll need a lot of bed rest after. But let’s just get through this and then hope for the best.” he says more to himself. His hand still on my shoulder, he begins to walk me through the lab. We stop in front of cushioned chair with tubes coming out from behind it. There are at least ten people running around, checking computer screens and wires. From one of the tables, Tony turns around with a stressed expression. Dr. Banner slides his hand off my shoulder, but I catch his wrist before he walks away.

“Dr. Banner.” I blurt. He looks at me with slight surprise. “Thank you.” He stares at me with pained understanding.

“Bruce.” he nods his head with a sad smile. I drop his arm and bite the insides of my cheeks. Tony approached me anxiously. His eyes are planted on mine carefully, and I know what he won’t say. Are you sure about this? My lips tilt up to a sort of smile, but my eyebrows are knit together. I nod my head to confirm an answer. He lets out a long breath. Without warning, his arms are reaching behind me and pulling me into him. I should be surprised at the sudden affection, but my hands are instinctively wrapping around the middle of his back. His palm press into my spine to keep me close to him. His breath is hitting my hair, and I already feel the tears slipping down my cheeks. My hold on him tightens.

“Thank you.” I whimper. “Thank you for trusting me. Thank you for caring.” I shake in his arms, and I can’t help but remember all those months ago in that hospital bed when he had pulled me into him as I cried. The memory makes me ball his shirt into fists in my hands. He mumbles something inaudible into my hair. After a few more moments, I have to rip myself away and wipe away my tears with the sleeves of my sweatshirt. I stare at the ceiling, praying to whoever will listen to fix me. If not for me, then for those I love. For those who care about me. And though they may not be many, they matter more than anything else in the world.

Tony squeezes my hand before leading me to the chair and letting me sit down on it. He pulls down a headset onto my hair, and I try to push away the memories of the last time I had a very similar headset on. I remind myself this is fixing me. This is going to make things better, whether it works or not.

Tony backs out of the experimentation zone of the chair. I let my gaze fall over Bruce as he looks at me nervously, then to Tony, who has a hand covering his mouth as if he’s lost in thought. One of the employees begins a countdown.

“Five…” she begins. I inhale, long and refreshing, and let it out again. “Four…” My eyes stay trained on Tony’s shining ones and I try to lift my lips to a reassuring smile. When I can’t manage that, I just nod. “Three…” I’m going to remember. The truth will always find its way to the surface. It will always end on top, it seems. “Two…” I let my gaze shift straight ahead, trying not to think of all I know isn’t real. Trying not to think of all that will be. Trying not to think.

“One.”

I close my eyes.

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hold me close, don’t let me go

nothing else existed in that moment other than the press of magnus against alec’s chest, the soft velvet coat under desperate, clinging fingers, the earthy, smoky smell of magic lingering on his skin. and alec loved him. it felt like something important had finally clicked into place, forced out by the excruciating fear that had taken over his every thought, his every movement. neither of them had the luxury of staying here, in this paused moment, wrapped up in one another outside the institute. for alec there was his family to check up on, the devastating task of tallying up the friends they’d lost today and sending out the fire-messages no shadowhunter ever wanted to receive. for magnus, the downworld was in mourning. seelies, vampires, werewolves. many needed healing, for one thing, and magnus was stubborn enough to refuse to leave the care of those that died up to nephilim.  

and yet, yet. alec pushed impossibly closer, nose bumping the sharp curve of magnus’ collarbone. breathing him in, again and again, reminding himself that magnus is here, he’s alive, he’s okay. magnus was no less guilty, tracing circles into alec’s back with the thumb of one hand, letting the other rest just beneath the hem of alec’s shirt where his parabatai rune curved hot beneath his fingers, the curve of his mouth pressed tight to alec’s shoulder. 

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Her Instinct - Chapter 15 *TEASER*

Hey Everyone! last week and this week are extremely busy on my end and I’m not sure when I will be able to post the next chapter. Many of you have asked and I hate to leave you hanging. So…I decided to give you a little taste of what’s to come with some of the beginning of Chapter 15. 

Chapter 15 - Bon Appétit

It’s been two full, long weeks since I’ve seen Mr. Leto.  Rehearsals for the after school Christmas Pageant were underway, and homework was a killer, so no time was ever spent at Allegra’s. After failed attempts to get a text reply from him, I just gave up. I guess I’ll see him when I see him.

But who am I kidding? This is Mr. Leto I’m talking about. This drought was driving me insane.

Derek, on the other hand, has stepped up to the plate; lately – ever so adamant about the date I owed him. Holding my end of the bargain for fixing the frame, we were set to go on our date tonight. Allegra was simply ecstatic and volunteered to do my hair and pick out my clothes for the evening. She dug out a burgundy with golden and white flowers scattered about the fabric, some boots and a beige sweater from my closet. I wore my hair in a messy bun atop my head.

For days Derek went on and on about this local diner, a real hot spot in town where the costumers ranged from as young as teens to business professionals.

It was a Thursday night, so I figured it shouldn’t be too crowded. He was wearing creased khaki pants jeans and polo. He looked good. I could see the red spreading in his cheeks as the waiter walked us to our table. I hope he wasn’t nervous. I wasn’t.

Once we were seated at our table, we looked down at our menus. As I mulled over my cravings for a cobb salad or signature pizza, I looked about the restaurant, taking in the many pictures and fancy trinkets.

I glanced over the tables encompassing the bar across from us filled mostly with well-dressed professionals after a long day of work. Men, sat across from their counterparts with their loosened ties and bowties as women sat with their crossed legs sitting high chairs.

There was this one couple in general that stuck out, cozier than the rest. The woman flicked her blonde hair as he leaned in towards her across the small bar table, whispering something in her ear. The brown haired stranger flashed a quick smile, but it wasn’t directed to her, it seemed to be directed to… me. I cocked my head to get a better look at the mystery stranger. And then our eyes locked.

It was Mr. Leto.

Hope this wetted your appetite - no pun intended! ;-) What do you think will happen? Let me know - love to hear your thoughts! Thanks for understanding. Hope to be back with much more soon!

<3 Cade

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2

fabrics interseason “cash” 1998

CaSH Fabrics® is a clothing and accessory line accompanying Sabotage Communication’s perfume CaSH; a perfume that smells of money. The clothes bestow a further avant-garde note and give the hard, unorthodox scent a visual edge. CaSH Fabrics® are offered in certain sizes and as original prototypes. These include sweaters in moth design, exits made in tied-together bed sheets and an appropriate packaging; “An einen Haushalt” engraved urns. CaSH Fabrics® not only sets itself apart through stylistic breaks, but also through reduced, wearable design and functional surprises: leather pants with front pleats, ski-shorts with pressed pleats, creased jeans, stretched rib top 80’s, t-shirts with sweat marks with fitting accessories such as 100kg bags, chokers, ties, denim hoods or 3,3m blue denim stolas with babyblue silk fringes. CaSH Fabrics® was presented on the 5th of June at 10pm in the parking garage “Parkhaus Westbahnhof”, Felberstraße, 1150 Vienna.

Stop and Stare - Mikey Pearce Imagine

Summary: Most of your childhood had been spent at the Maynard’s house, and most of your adult life was spent at their apartment. One interaction with a friend of theirs makes you appreciate their influence in your life.

Requested: yes!

Word Count: 2077

Trigger Warnings: none

Author’s Note: I’ve never written about Mikey before, and hadn’t ever really considered it, but I absolutely fell in love with this request and had to write it! Even though i’m operating on about an hours sleep in the past thirty six hours, I am determined to continue posting one story a day. As per usual, please send your feedback/criticisms/requests towards me. Update - I actually fell asleep writing this.

Originally posted by iheartmyyoutubers


“Conor Paul Maynard, don’t you dare!” you shrieked as you backed away from your oldest friend carefully, eyeing the flour and eggs in his hands with clear distrust in your eyes. You did not trust that boy as far as you could throw him.

“Don’t do what, Y/N Y/M/N Y/L/N?” he snickered as he approached you, a dangerous glint in his eyes. Your eyes flickered from his flour-covered hands to your brand new shirt and squeaked uncomfortably, “Come on! All I want is a hug!” he cackled as he lunged towards you, his laughter only growing as you turned and ran as fast as you could towards Jack’s room.

You had been friends with Conor and Jack Maynard for as long as you could remember, having been in the same year as Jack in school and bonding with him over funny videos on YouTube when you were both in year nine, now nearly ten years later, you couldn’t imagine your life without them, or the friends that they’d picked up along the way.

You could hear Conor closing in behind you and squealed frantically as you bolted down the hallway to Jack’s room, sighing in relief as it came into view. Conor’s laughter could be heard down the hall behind you as you basically ripped open the bedroom door and all but threw yourself into his room.

Letting out a breath of relief, you slid down the back of his door, hands clutching your chest from where your heart was currently thumping against your rib cage erratically. Hearing the sound of someone clearing their throat obnoxiously, you looked up from your spot on the floor to see Jack and Josh looking at you suspiciously, next to them was a guy who reminded you oddly of Michael Buble.

Offering them an innocent smile, you let out an awkward giggle, “Oh um, hi guys, what’s happening?” you asked in what you hoped was an adorable manner. You could feel the heat of a blush crawling up your neck as all three boys looked at you as though you had three heads.

“What are you doing on my floor?” Jack asked abruptly, his hand already reaching down to pull you up off the floor, “I didn’t even know you were back from Brighton,” he commented as he helped you up. You took his hand with a small and bashful smile, hopping to your feet and smoothing out the creases in your jeans.

“Got back this morning, and then Conor tried to ambush me into baking with him,” You pointed out as you looked up at him before your eyes flitted over to the other two boys. “See you haven’t gotten a haircut yet, Joshua,” you quipped at the ginger boy, raising a single eyebrow at him as you crossed your arms over your chest.

“And deny you the pleasure of cutting my hair? I would never, Y/N!” he smirked, placing a hand over his heart jokingly. “Besides, I don’t want to put you out of a job, god knows how much you love cutting our hair,” he snickered, making you roll your eyes dramatically.

“Oh yeah, Josh, nothing brings me greater joy than having to stand on your toilet in order to cut your hair,” You huffed exaggeratedly before tugging him into a quick hug. “How’s that girl of yours? You gonna introduce us anytime soon?” you asked in a more serious tone of voice.

“And give the Maynard’s the opportunity to turn her off? Not bloody likely!” he snorting jokingly, making Jack squawk indignantly and shove Josh’s shoulder, muttering about how girls adored him and his charm.

Letting out a small laugh at the two roommates, you turned to the unknown boy and offered your hand to him shyly, “I don’t think we’ve met before, I’m Y/N,” you introduced yourself, “You must be Mikey,” you guessed, knowing that he was the only one of Jack and Conor’s close friends that you hadn’t met yet.

“Uh yeah that’s um,” he stammered adorably before taking a deep breath and grinning, “What tipped you off?” he asked and you felt yourself about ready to melt from the adorableness of it all.

“The leather,” you giggled, gesturing to his leather jacket, which admittedly made you want to melt even more – you were a sucker for a boy in a leather jacket. “Jack and Conor are always going on about you and your leather,” you explained shyly, your fingers tugging at the loops of her jeans awkwardly.

You were no stranger to beautiful boys, being friends with Jack and Conor had ensured that; all of their friends that you had met were lovely people with hilarious personalities who were unfairly attractive. Some of your friends and family members, namely your mother, constantly questioned why you hadn’t ever tried to get with either of the boys, and your answer was always the same – because it’d be gross.

And that was the truth; you didn’t want to date either one of the Maynard’s, they were like annoying brothers to you and to date either of them would be super gross. You didn’t even want to date any of their friends, despite your co-workers’ commentary that it would undoubtedly advance your career. As attractive as they were, though, you would never use someone like that, they just weren’t your type.

Mikey though, you hadn’t reacted to a boy like this in a long time. You didn’t know whether it was his easy laughter or the twinkle in his eyes, but something about him calmed you. You couldn’t help but to smile up at him shyly as you both talked about the boys and how annoying they both were. It was obvious that he was nervous and flustered, but that only made him even more attractive to you

Your attention was disrupted when Conor came crashing through the door and lunged at you, catching you off guard and hauling you over his shoulder. “Aha! Got you!” he cackled, wiping his hands on your black jeans as he spun around with you slung over his shoulder, your body bouncing around like a rag doll in his arms.

“Conor!” you groaned, squirming in his grip as he spun all over the place, “You’re going to make me sick!” you whined, already feeling slightly nauseous from being semi-upside down over his bony shoulder. “And Jack will kill me if I vomit all over his floor,” you added, sighing in relief when you ended up feet first on the floor again.

It was at that moment that you had the very harsh realisation that you were supposed to be picking up your niece for lunch in fifteen minutes, on the opposite side of the city. And she would not be impressed if you were late, the little priss that she was.

“Shit! I’m meant to be picking up Y/N/N in ten minutes!” you squealed as you tore out of Jack’s room, picking up your stuff from the couch and shrugging on your coat. “Conor, call me after your date tonight!” you called over your shoulder while shoving your feet into your shoes. You couldn’t believe you had been in that room, in that conversation with Mikey for so long.

“Alright, love you!” your best friend’s voice called back, alongside Jack’s and Josh’s, making you smile. You were blessed when you thought about it, and you wouldn’t have sacrificed it for the world.

“Not as much as I love Jack,” you shouted, giggling loudly at the argument that broke out between the Maynard’s over which one you loved more at that moment in time. You rolled your eyes at them both as you let yourself out, a small smile on your face as you thought of the happiness that a simple morning cuppa could bring.

It was much later that evening, after you had returned home from meeting with your niece and sister, and were busy watching Captain America for the billionth time in a row, that a sharp knock at your door interrupted you. Looking down at your ripped leggings and an oversized sweater, you realised you probably weren’t suitable to have company, but seeing as it was most likely Conor with a six pack of beer and Chinese food, you got up to let him in.

Turns out you should have changed.

To say that you were surprised to see Mikey there and not your best friend would have been a gross understatement, and you were sure that was evident in your tone of voice. “Mikey!” you exclaimed upon seeing him on the other side of your door, “This certainly is a surprise,” you commented, feeling more than flustered at the sudden appearance, “Do you want to come in?” you asked him shyly.

“No, no, it’s fine I just um, well you see, uh I didn’t have your number, otherwise I would have called, and then Jack blurted out that you lived at the end of the hall and I wasn’t sure if you would be busy with Conor but then he sent Jack a snap chat of the girl he’s with so I figured I’d just stop by –“ he rambled before shaking his head quickly, seeming to realise that he was waffling. You doubted he realised how cute it was, though.

“And then today, I kind of thought you and Conor were a thing and it was shattering because you’re so beautiful and all the pretty girls love Conor but then you and Jack were close too and I didn’t know what to think and how could I have lost my chance so quickly,” he rambled out, his face growing redder and redder with each passing second.

“Mikey,” You interrupted him, a small and shy yet fond smile on your face as you looked up at him. “First of all, I’d never date Conor or Jack; Conor is basically my brother and Jack is too much like my actual brother, and he’s obsessed with his reflection,” you giggled softly, “Secondly, Do you want to grab lunch sometime or like a cup of coffee or something?” you asked him shyly, whether it was a date or not, you felt the inherent need to spend more time with it, and he did seem to be quite interested in you. You just hoped that you weren’t misinterpreting the situation.

“Like a date?” he blurted out, his cheeks turning the most wonderful scarlet colour at your invitation, the amazed grin on his face making you want to melt into a puddle.

“Yeah, like a date, unless you’d rather just be friends, which is fine too, I just thought that you might want it to be a date since you are standing at my front door with no shoes on,” you giggled softly, leaning against the half-open door as you looked up at him.

“Um yes, I’d like that a lot, are you free on Thursday?” he asked, seeming to gain a bit of his confidence back as you watched his back straighten up a bit and his chest puff out. You also noted how broad his shoulders were … and how great your legs would look slung over them. You blushed deeply at that thought, before realising that you hadn’t answered him. And fucking hell, if that smirk on his face wasn’t the hottest thing you’d ever seen.

“Thursday would be perfect,” you smiled shyly, sure that if the open door hadn’t been there then you would have been on the floor in a puddle of your own tears and giddiness.

Grinning, he ducked forward and pressed a soft kiss to your cheek, causing that area of your face to burn bright, “See you on Thursday,” he smirked again before disappearing down the hall again.

You closed the door with a happy sigh, sliding down the back of it and wrapping your arms around your knees tightly as the warm feeling in your chest spread over your entire body. You let out a loud laugh as you heard the faint sounds of Mikey yelling, “She said yes!” in The Maynard’s apartment a few doors down. Something about him gave you hope that things would be good, that maybe your non-existent love life was about to improve.

Your laugh only deepened as you then heard the sound of heavy footsteps thundering down the hall and the sound of someone banging on your door frantically.

“Whattaya mean you’d never date me?! I’m fucking handsome!”  


Thank you so much for all the requests and feedback/responses to Shape of You, it’s been so great, I currently have about four requests to do, of which 3 are about Jack, 2 are about Joe and 1 is about Conor, so if you have any Josh/Oli/Mikey/Caspar one’s then send them in!

p.s Oli is actually my favourite of all of them

mostly-naruto-deactivated201509  asked:

HI!! OH WOW, OH MY GOSH YOUR ART IS SO SO SOSOSOSOSOSO A.M.A.Z.I.N.G!!!! You have incredible talent! oh how i envy you... hahaha uhm this is probably gonna sound REALLY weird but y'know when you draw clothes, HOW DO YOU KNOW WHERE TO PUT CREASES/WRINKLES??? I HAVE BEEN TRYING TO PERFECT THE SKILL FOR SUCH A LONG TIME BUT IT NEVER EVER WORKS!! Sorry if i wasted your time *blushes* BUT YEAH YOUR ART IS GREAT *0*

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proposals ☾ tw preference

S C O T T -

  Scott smoothed out the crease in his dark jeans, his hands resting briefly on his lap before he began drumming his fingers on his thighs. He could hardly sit still; he was too anxious, too terrified of what was to take place within the next few hours, perhaps less than that if he worked up enough nerve to do what he had been planning to do since he was a senior in high school nearly three years ago. Three years ago, right after you had first told him that you loved him, he had vowed to marry you. Now, he had a ring in his shirt pocket, sweaty palms, and a heartbeat thumping so loud he was sure you would be able to hear it when you walked into your shared apartment in- 

  He sprang up suddenly, his ears already attuned to the sound of your softly approaching footsteps, directly near the door. He took the black velvet box out of his pocket, shoving it behind a pillow quickly and taking a deep breath before rushing to greet you. When you opened the door to your apartment, Scott was already standing in front of it, smiling widely at you. You happily grinned back at him, eyes roaming over his ever handsome face. You noticed his forehead was slightly shiny with sweat, but you brushed the thought off. Your apartment had shitty air-conditioning, and getting it fixed cost money that neither of you were able to spend. 

   “I’ll take your sweater, baby,” he said after greeting you with a kiss on your cheek, as he always did. You raised your eyebrows at him when you heard the slightest bit of shakiness in his voice.  

   “You okay, Scotty? You sound… anxious,” you told him, walking over to the couch and flopping down on it. “Whatcha thinking about, love?” He beamed at your pet name for him. You insisted on using it, and while sometimes he acted like it wasn’t his favorite thing in the world, it certainly was.  He sat down on the floor so that he was below you, having already subtly grabbed the ring box from behind the pillow. It was beside him now, but out of your view. He ran his pointer finger over the top of it. 

   “I’m fine, Y/N, I just need to ask you something. Something really important.” He slowly reached out for your hand as you sat up a bit, your head propped up by your other hand. His fingers curled tightly around your own, the tips a bit rough but the palms were still soft as anything. You nodded at him to go on, squeezing his hand encouragingly. “Y/N, I’ve been in love with you for over four years now, even though we’ve only been together for three. Despite that, every single year that you have been in my life, whether we were a couple or not, has been a blessing. I love you more than I have ever loved anyone in my life, more than I ever will love anyone. These years have been amazing, Y/N, but I had this idea…” he released your hand, taking the box and opening it. 

    “Maybe we could have forever.” 

    You practically screamed with happiness, rolling off the couch without caring that you slammed your knee on the floor. You wrapped your legs around his waist, not even letting him place the ring on your finger. You took his face in your hands, kissing him as hard as you could. “Yes. Yes. Yes.” Only after pressing a thousand kisses onto his beaming face did you let him slide the ring on your finger. 

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Peter Maximoff/Quicksilver x Reader (fluff)

“Professor, have you seen Y/N today? I looked everywhere and I can’t find her”

Charles cleared his throat, folded his fingers and averted his eyes to the circular pattern on his desk.

“She’s um, she’s in the hospital Peter. She was admitted whilst you were running and errand this morning”

Peter’s face dropped, his heartbeat beginning to race.

“Why?” “

She hit her head in the danger room. Fell unconscious, I had to ask Kurt to bring her to the Emergency department, I left Scott, Jean and Kurt to watch over her. I’m sorry”

Peter felt rage boiling in his blood.
“Why didn’t you tell me?!?”
“I didn’t have the chance”
“Bullshit Charles. Where is she?? Which hospital??”
“Victoria’s”

Charles had no longer finished speaking than a split second before Peter was speeding off as quickly as he possibly could. He searched every hospital room in the entire place until he found her’s. Scott, Jean and Kurt sitting by her bedside as she slept.

Peter appeared beside her bedside, checking her over and seeing that she had a heartbeat, running a hand through his thick silver hair.

The three mutants were startled, but quickly relaxed again once they saw it was Peter.

“What exactly happened to her” Peter said with an unusually calm voice, trying to mask his panic.

“A bot whacked her straight in the head in the danger room, she didn’t wake up do we brought her here. Nurse said she’s stable. Probably a concussion.”
Scott said quickly

“When will she wake up?”

“She already did. She’s sleeping. So keep it the hell down” Jean added.

Peter went and found a chair, quickly placing it at the other side of her bed to his three friends.

“Where were you this morning, man? You were supposed to be training with us, you might have stopped this”
Scott said, his forehead creasing as Jean slapped his arm.

“I…I went to the store to get Twinkie’s…..she asked me to get her some last night and I forgot”
Peter replied, running his hands through his hair once more.

“Yeah well, I think she’d have preferred to not be in pain than have Twinkie’s ”

“Scott!” Jean scolded.

Peter sped over and lifted him by the collar against the wall, Scott not loosing his frown.

“Where were you Scott? Huh? Why didn’t you keep her from getting hurt? Your supposed to be the team leader, supposed to keep her safe! Where were you??”
Peter almost shouted as he set him back on the ground.

Jean used her mutation to calm them both down, not wanting any more casualties for the day.

“Guys…” Y/N’s tired voice quietly spoke. “What’s going on?”

“You hit your head Y/N, remember? In the danger room?” Jean said as they all crowded around her.

“Oh yeah, damn robots. Hey Peter, did you get my Twinkie’s?” She asked with a smile.

Peter placed three from his jacket on her nightstand. “Sure did Princess”

The nurse came in, having heard the noise.

“Will you four give her some space please?” She asked

The four mutants stepped back as the nurse took your heart rate, temperature and blood pressure.

“Okay, sweetheart, you get some rest. You should be good to go home in the morning. But you’ll need to rest for about a week. Y'all need to leave soon, visiting hours ends in ten minutes. You can tell Xavier that she’ll be just fine”

The four mutants begrudgingly left after saying goodbye, leaving promises of coming back to see you in the morning.

Peter sped back after curfew in X-Mansion, took quick for the hospital security cameras to pick up as he ran to you room. Taking his place on his chair again.
He just wanted to make sure your safe, he wouldn’t be able to sleep otherwise.

“Peter…” You drawled out.

“Yeah baby cakes?”

“I love you, you know that?” Goddamn drugs the nurse had you on were making you ditsy.

“You do?”

“I do”

“Good thing I love you too” “

Originally posted by paralysedbeaver

First Encounter

This is the first chapter to my new one shot ‘Tattooed on my heart’ Please give me feedback too.. Thank you, I hope you all enjoy it. xx

It’s a cold winter evening in New York City. The snow is falling. It’s chilly. Your scarf is wrapped firmly around your neck, your coat buttoned up. You’re holding up your camera, trying to get a good shot of the Manhattan skyline. Being short sucks, especially when you can’t get good photos. You look around, and begin pushing on the fence paling in front of you. It say’s ‘No climbing’  ignoring the sign, you put your left leg up first and pull yourself up. You tangle your feet in the little inserts between each fence paling. Hoping it holds you up, bringing your camera up to your eye, you squint your eye shut, as you’re about to snap a photo, you begin to lose balance, you try to balance with your hands, but you fail. Dropping your camera as you fall back, you mentally prepare yourself as you fall, you know it’s going to hurt and it’s going to bruise. The 2m fall seems to be taking forever, you brace yourself.


A hand grips your waist and another grips your arm, stopping you from falling. The grip is firm, but you feel safe. You turn to look at the person who’s holding you up.
‘Are you ok?’ He asks.

Your eyes flare open, the accent is very familiar, but you just quite can’t pick where you’ve heard it. His grip still strong, a little vein raising from his bicep,
you look up embarrassed. Those eyes, you know all too well, beautiful, they’re a blue/green colour, you can almost see your reflection in them. His eyelashes so long, they flutter when he blinks. Looking at you, still waiting for a response.
Fumbling for your camera, you hold it up.

'Photo’ you say..

Your checks now bright red with embarrassment once you realise who’s arms you’re in.
'I was trying to take a photo of the Manhattan skyline, it’s a beautiful city’ you say boldly.
'It is.. Pity I am only here for a week’ he says. 'oh I am Taron by the way, by the look of it, you already had an idea of who I was?’ he says. Finally releasing you.
'Yeah.. Well it’s not everyday a famous actor saves your life’ you chuff
He scoffs 'Famous?.Com-on no one knows who I am, what’s your name by the way’ he smirks.

'Oh, I’m Y/N and com-on this is like your fourth movie.. You’re famous in my heart’ you smile.
'Well thank you.. Thank you very much’ Taron smiles


You look down at your camera to realise the lens of your camera has snapped off. 'Dammit.. This camera holds all my memories’
Taron looks at you. Like he wants to say something, his arms covered in goosebumps, little specks of snow in his hair.
'Aren’t you cold? you ask
'Yeah.. I am used to the cold in London and I didn’t think it’d be this cold’ he says, crossing his arms.. Shivering.
'Oh you’re a goose’ you joke
'A goose.. Did you just really call me that?’ he scoffs
A slight smile rises on your face.

His smile mirroring yours 'There’s that smile I’ve been waiting to see’
You look down, embarrassed. 'So are you here with any friends or are you here on your own?’ he asks

'Nah.. I decided I wanted to tour America on my own.. I am having a lot of fun’ you smile
'Ohh.. Well you’re brave to do that in a big city like this.’ His hands now in his pockets, his T-shirt just above his belt buckle, his jeans creased in all the right places..
'Sorry?’ you ask.. Confusion looting over your face..
'Oh.. I just said you’re brave for being here in a big city on your own’
'Oh yeah.. It’s quite daunting at times, but you get used to it’
'Hey, so it’s a bit chilly out here, so how about I cut this short and we head back to my hotel..’ he goes to continue but you butt in.
'Excuse me?’ you ask
'I was going to say, we should go to my hotel, get my jacket and then I’ll take you out for dinner? Unless you’ve got somewhere to be?’ he asks
Every inch inside of you wants to say yes, but you don’t really want to be snapped by paparazzi having dinner with him.. You listen to your growling stomach.. you haven’t eaten since breakfast..

'I’d love to’ you smile.
'Great’ he smiles, as he places a hand on the small of your back and guides you as you walk down the stairs, you reach the bottom of the stairs. You’re now in the street. People everywhere, cars, everywhere. Taron holds up a hand and hails down a taxi, opening the door and you hop in. He leans forward and gives the taxi driver the hotel’s address.. The taxi driver nods, before he takes off. You haven’t even got your seat belt on yet, you fumble as he darts in and out of traffic. Taron’s hand covers yours and he clicks in the seatbelt for you..
'You know I could’ve done that myself’ you say
'I am just trying to help’ he replies
Within minutes you’re at the hotel, he undoes his seatbelt and jumps out, holding the door open for you. He hands the cab driver some cash

'Keep the change, have a good night mate’ he says. Patting the top of the taxi as it drives off.
You follow him inside the hotel, your eyes open with awe. You look up at the chandeliers, you can tell he’s staying in a luxury 5 star hotel.
'I’ll just wait in the lobby’ you say as you take a seat.
'I won’t be long’ he smiles as he walks over to the lift. Within minutes he’s back down, holding that leather jacket you absolutely love him in, all his fans do as well.
As you walk outside he chucks it on. he looks so much hotter wearing it in real life than he does in photos. Your mouth drops in awe.
'So do you like steak?’ he asks
'I love it’ you smile
'Good, I wanted to take you to the steak house on E 58th Street. Which happens to be just around the corner’
New York is amazing at night. There are still people everywhere. Kids running around.
'Sounds good’ you smile. You look over to him. His hands in his pockets again. You turn onto E 58th Street as he guides you into 'Club A steakhouse’
The waiter at the door is too kind and she gets you two a seat in the corner, away from the crowds of people. Taron has his back turned to the majority of the restaurant. Holding up the menu, you peak your eyes over the menu and you can see Taron looking at you, with one eyebrow raised.
'So Y/N would you like a red or white wine to start off with?’
'White please’ you say then proceeding to tell Taron the brand. You go for a cheaply priced one as Taron has already made it clear he’s paying.
'You know we can go for something a little bit more expensive’ he smiles 'I don’t mind’
'Fine, you choose’ you smile
He then picks the most expensive one of the list and signals to the waiter that you’re ready to order.
The waiter comes over with her pen and paper.. 'So we’ll have this wine please’ Taron points to the expensive one on the list 'and I’ll have my steak medium rare and a nice salad on the side please’ he smiles giving the waiter a slight wink
'And you’ll have miss?’ she asks
'Can I please have mine well done and I’ll have a side of chips and mushroom gravy please’
'I can do that’ she smiles. Scribbling on her notepad and walking off.
You and Taron begin small conversation and within no time your meals and wine are on the table.

You talk between mouthfuls and sips of wine. Taron’s eyes never leave yours.
'So, I forgot to ask, are you single or do you have a partner back home?’ he asks
'Haha. It’s all good. I am single. What about you?’ You ask..
'Me? I am single. I don’t really know why, girls are always all over me, but I just never have had the courage to ask one out. Not since I’m famous’ he smiles
'Do you take any girls home from clubs, ect..?’ you ask..
'Nope, it’s not really my thing, aye’ he smiles as he takes one last mouthful of his food before whipping his mouth with his napkin.
You copy his manners and you finish your food and sip the last of the wine. You realise you’ve been hanging out with Taron for about 3 hours and you haven’t even checked your phone once.
'Shit’ you say looking down at the time.. 'I’ve got to get back to the hotel’ you say.
'I’ll walk you’ Taron smiles as he signals to the waitress for the bill. You hand him some cash, but he gives it back to you.
The waitress gives him the bill and he walks up to pay before joining you at the door.
It’s colder outside now, the wind has picked up as more snow falls, it’s really a beautiful sight. Every inch inside of you wants to pick Taron up and kiss him ever so passionately, but you control that urge.
'So this is me’ as you point to the entrance of a hotel.
Taron looks at you and frowns.. 'So I guess you’re leaving me now’
'I would love to see you again’ you smile, tilting your head to the left slightly to see his frown turn into a smile.
'Well can I give you my number?’ he asks
'Of course’ you smile handing him your phone.
'Whatsapp ok?’ he asks
'Yeah that’s fine’
He quickly punches in his digits.
'Ok, flick me a message so I’ve got your number’ his fingers fumbling.
'Be patient’ you smile. He leans forward and gives you a quick kiss on the cheek.
'I’ll talk to you soon, yeah?’ he asks
'I’ll message you after I have a shower, ok’ you smile
'Sounds good’ he says as he walks off.

You quickly run to the lift. It takes you up to your level. Once you’re in your room you jump on the bed and smile, gathering your things you jump into the shower.
After your shower, you send Taron a message
'Thank you for such a lovely evening, as I said tonight. I’d like to see you again, so maybe sightseeing tomorrow? If you’re not busy. Goodnight. x’ you’re about to turn your phone off when you receive a message

'Thank you for tonight as well. Hope you get a good rest as well.. And I’d love to go sightseeing. x’


'Well I guess I’ll see you tomorrow’ you message back, turning off your phone. You smile into your pillow.

A Second Chance

Summary: You and Lay were High School sweethearts but ending up going in separate directions, you two find each other once again but now you have a son and Lay wants to win him over.
Members: Lay x Reader
Type: Fluff, Little Angst
Length: 1,209 words

- Admin Mocha

Originally posted by deerxings

“_____? Is that really you?”

  You froze at the mention of your name as you spun around with your eyebrows furrowing together in confusion, finding the soft voice strangely familiar yet unknown all at the same time. You were in the middle of shopping for groceries in your hometown after moving back to spend a few weeks with your parents, and a part of you heavily hoped that no one noticed you. You oddly prayed that whoever happened to know you was someone you barely remembered, a familiar face from years past who you could barely recall.

  You grudgingly painted a fake smile on your face as you turned to face this person, feeling your heart sink at how negative you had become. It wasn’t that you didn’t want to rekindle with your childhood friends, it was just that you had changed so much and not entirely for the better. You felt your heart tear even more at the idea of someone’s innocent view of you being corrupted, you didn’t like the idea that you had changed so terribly.

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It’s Too Late- Jungkook Angst pt 3

Pairing: Jungkook x Reader

Note: This one is honestly mediocre ahjdjahda

Part 1 and 2  are up in my blog

Word Count: 1183 (my longest ever)

            Jungkook poured more gel onto his hand, before curving his hair upwards in a swift motion. He gave himself one last look in the mirror, making sure that his shirt was properly buttoned, his jeans were crease-free, and that he looked like someone the world would love to see when his pictures came up in the magazines. His hands were sweating, everything would begin today. Jungkook gave up on trying to force himself to feel happy, he decided not to feel anything at all. He was numb inside, but on the outside, a huge smile had settled itself on his face. To anyone else, he looked happy, but when he looked at his own eyes, it was cold, empty and distant.

          Jungkook stepped out of his room, grateful that nobody but him was home. He knew that if the other boys had seen him like this, they would fire a lot of questions at him, questions he knew he didn’t have the answer to.  Slipping into his shoes which sat at the foot of his door, he slowly walked towards the front door. His breathing started to quicken, and he had to pause and shut his eyes for a moment before stepping forward once again.

He wondered, why is this so hard to do? It’ll just be an hour or two, and everything will be over.

He placed a hand on his chest, reassuring himself. ‘It’ll be fine, you’ll be fine.’ It didn’t help him one bit, he knew all too well that he was lying to himself.

            A loud honk startled him from his train of thoughts, and he rushed outside, climbing into the company’s van. The manager was already inside, a pair of shades resting on his nose, his open laptop settled on his lap. The manager turned sideways to give Jungkook a curt nod of greeting, before spewing up reminders.

           “Do not forget Jungkook, her name is Cindy, and you absolutely adore her. If any reporters find and approach you too, I want you to answer them well. If you are pressed on, remember to mention that you think that Cindy and you will be a power couple, and that you indeed do think of being with her in the future. Give them what they want to hear. Also, when you get out of this car, do get out quick, I don’t want any reporters seeing me in here, or they may find out the truth. You understand?”

Jungkook bit his lip, mumbling, “Yes, I understand.”

The manager gave him a grunt in response, before furiously typing away on his keyboard.

            Minutes later, the car took a turn to the right, before stopping in front of a small café. Jungkook took that this was his stop, and he was immediately rushed out of the car by the piercing and warning gaze from his manager. The fresh autumn breeze felt lively against Jungkook’s skin, a stark contrast to what he was feeling at that moment.

          The restaurant was highly litted, a soft cinnamon scent laminating the room. Its interior were white, with soft hues of blue and pink painted across the walls. A petite waitress approached him, recognising him right away, “Mr Jungkook, your reservation for two is at table three.” She pointed at the table against the huge glass screen. Jungkook knew that his manager had strategically chosen that spot, as it could easily be seen by anyone, a feast for the reporters.

            Jungkook gave her a small smile, dismissing her with a wave of his hand, and settled himself into the assigned table. Soon, another waitress scurried over, handing him the menu. He skimmed over it, before checking his watch. Cindy should be here any time soon. He internally let out a huge sigh, but he tried his best to block out all the negative thoughts, all the heartache he was feeling inside.

It’s better for me not to feel anything at all, for this to work.’

            As if on cue, the cafe bell chimed, and Jungkook raised his head to find Cindy heading over towards him. Nonetheless, if he were to speak from a generalized point of view, Cindy looked beyond stunning. But Jungkook just couldn’t see it, and he sure as hell couldn’t see himself spending a future with her.

          As Cindy dropped into her seat across his, Jungkook couldn’t help but feel a wave of awkwardness sweeping across. He really wasn’t used to this. Cindy, however, was an entirely different story. She smiled at him, her intense gaze locking into his, and reached out to rest her hands against Jungkook’s on the table. Jungkook’s hands pulled away as if on instinct. A worried expression crossed her face and Jungkook silently apologized, putting his hands back onto the table, and into her grasp.

         The barricades in his head suddenly vanished, and he couldn’t help but compare. Cindy’s hands felt cold, fragile. Whereas YN’s hands, when they held on to his, they were warm, they were comforting. It was as if they were saying, ‘Everything’s going to be alright now.’ And it was. Everytime she was by Jungkook’s side, he felt complete, he felt like nothing was going to tear him down.

       His eyes started to well up with tears, but he blinked them away furiously, distracting himself with the menu in front of him. When that didn’t seem to help, he rubbed his head with his hand, pulling them away from Cindy’s. Fortunately, she didn’t notice, as she was too distracted in the selection of salads menu in front of her.

               Jungkook was just about to open his mouth and ask Cindy on what she was having, before a flash of bright light hit him, from the other side of the glass screen. He knew what those were immediately, having dealt with them for so long. Camera lights. He tilted his head to the side and confirmed his suspicions, as a whole lot of reporters were already gathered outside, their hands flailing their huge cameras towards Jungkook. By habit, Jungkook scanned the reporters, until his eyes rested upon a figure wearing a jacket with a huge BigHit logo on it.

          His eyes furrowed, before widening in just mere seconds. The gears in his head were turning in the speed of light, his heart thumping so hard, he thought it was about to burst out.

She’s here.

Her cheeks were already covered in tear stains, her eyes puffy and red.

That was that. Jungkook wasn’t turning away now.

Seeing her like this, it hurt him even more than the state he was in right now. He stood up so quickly, that the vase on the table was knocked out, shattering into pieces onto the floor.

A cacophony of noises rang in his ears, but all he heart was the sound of his heart racing.

Large amounts of people gathered outside to see him, impatient to ask him questions, but he only intended to answer to one’s.

The whole world will be dying hear his explanation, but he felt like he only owed his to one.

YN.

Originally posted by all--kill

I wrote this really really sleepily XD sorrrrryyy

itsagameioftenplay  asked:

If you're taking prompts, I really think we need more Sterek+zombies!au's. And I mean all out apocalyptic setting's with them staying with a really small group of people who live in a, I don't know, awesome ass tree house or underground cellar or a really tall building, and being all around bad ass.

11/22

“No, don’t you dare. Don’t fucking dare. Derek!”

Stiles slams into the door a second late, fists crashing into cool metal that refuses to give. Because Derek had locked it. Derek had locked him out.

And is turning back to face the herd of undead on his own.

Fuck you, Derek! I swear to god, if you get yourself bit I am not even gonna shoot you!” He slams his fist into the door again and then forces himself to go quiet – Derek needs to concentrate right now if he wants to survive, and Stiles screaming through a door at him isn’t going to do him any favors.

He pushes off the door and stalks a few steps backward, glancing over his shoulder to make sure his shouting hasn’t drawn in any ganks from this side of the wall before sizing up the building. Weighing his options.

It’s a supermarket – one of those oversized superstores that’s basically a warehouse, with windows about twelve feet in the air and running along the length of each side wall. Stiles knows from their time inside that part of the ceiling has caved in, but even if he could make his way to the roof, the drop would leave him totally incapable of actually helping Derek once he got back inside.

He allows himself one breath, another, and then he’s moving. Hitching his bow up on his shoulder, dropping the backpack of scavenged supplies, and darting for the left side of the building.

He hears the sound of fighting - impacts and rasping snarls and the occasional gunshot – as he grabs the abandoned shopping cart, shoves it up on top of the tall dumpster, and hoists himself up after it. He tries not to think about it, about how there’d been at least thirty of them in there, a whole nest of hungry, relentless, mindless monsters. Instead he focuses on the motions – on flipping the cart wheel-up and bracing it against the wall, on pulling himself on top of it and reaching up to push at the dirty glass of the window.

No latches, no hinges; they don’t open at all. Of-fucking-course not. He scowls at the crusted glass for a second before hopping back down to the top of the dumpster, drawing his handgun, and shooting the glass twice. The sound and the wasted ammo has him wincing, but he’s already back in motion: stripping his overshirt, climbing the unsteady shopping cart again, and punching the weakened glass with a flannel covered fist.

And then he’s pushing at the shattered remnants of glass, laying the flannel out along the bottom of the frame, and pulling himself up and inside.

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