double plate


mooooore sketch dumps! 

The Tenth Floor pt 1

Min Yoongi had gone through 34 secretaries in the past 24 months, and each one of them left in tears. This fact alone should have warned you against taking the job, but the pay was too good to pass up. Surely you could put up with a billionaires temper-tantrums, right?

Reader x Yoongi

Genre: Fluff, humor, probably some angst

Warnings: Strong language at times

You certainly looked the part. Dress slacks, light-blue blouse, a blazer with the sleeves rolled up once. You were even wearing heels, much to your distaste. You had bought your slacks at a consignment store cheap, and they fit other than the length. You planned to either have them hemmed or buy new ones as soon as you got your first pay check, but for now you would have to survive without practical shoes.

The elevator you were standing in was basically a box of mirrors, and everywhere you looked you saw yourself. It was a little disconcerting, so you tried to focus on your phone. You felt the elevator stop, and you glanced up at the numbers on the wall. You were only on the fifth floor, so you guessed someone else must be going up as well.

You were right, and watched as two young men stepped into the elevator with you. The taller of the two gave you a smile as the other almost pressed the button for the tenth floor, noticed it was already lit up, and dropped his hand.

“You must be the new secretary.” He commented, and you raised your eyebrows.

“Yeah, how did you—“

“We know everyone on the tenth floor.” The taller man replied. “My name’s Seokjin, by the way.” He held out his hand for you to shake.

“Nice to meet you.” You said, giving them both a smile. “I look forward to getting to know you both.”

“Don’t count on it.” The second man snorted.

Seokjin shot the other man a look, and hit his arm lightly. “Jimin, don’t scare the girl off on her first day.” Jimin shrugged, unperturbed.

“What do you mean, ‘don’t count on it’?” You asked, and Jimin smiled.

“I mean, you won’t be around long enough to get to know us.” He looked over to Seokjin. “I’d give her a week, tops.”

Seokjin sighed. “Such a pessimist.” He chided before sizing you up. “She’ll last a month.”

Keep reading


pairing: lin-manuel miranda x reader

prompt: lol u both try to surprise each other at the same time

warnings: swearing, fluffy (v sweet!!! you might get a toothache!!!), suggestive ;)))))))) 

words: 1,783

a/n: i !!! love !!! this !!! i’m gonna do a laf one like this kinda soon. pls feel free to leave requests! i love the ones you guys have been giving me xoxoxoo lemme know whatcha think/like/want 

Masterlist         /         Prompt List

“Three cream, two sugar, please.” You told the barista looking up from your phone. You smiled slightly when your eyes returned to the screen. Lin was up and retweeting his favorite Tobillo photoshops. Checking your watch, you realized you were 30 minutes early to work and decided to enjoy your coffee at the cafe; sitting down at a rounded table.

You thought for a minute before setting to work, cropping a photo of Ariel with Tobi’s face before sending it in. Lin almost immediately quoted it, saying:

Bahahhaha this is why I love Y/N. Aren’t you late for work?

You instantly smiled, tweeting back:

@Lin_Miranda I’m early actually

He fired back:

@Y/N that’s a first ;)

You rolled your eyes. A moment later, you had a text from Lin.

from: lin

i miss u :,(

to: lin

pls don’t make me cry i’m in public

from: lin

i’ll be home soon!!

to: lin

you told eliza that too and then you went off and fucking killed urself

Lin laughed aloud, causing a few people in the sound room to look up to him. Blushing feverishly, he texted back.

from: lin

true. but i guess that makes it a good thing that i modeled you after jefferson and not eliza. who else would be so…

You laughed at Lin’s teasing remarks. Still, you wished he were hear to tell you them in person. Biting back, you responded:

to: lin

you’re so full of yourself

from: lin

you would be full of me too if i were home

You immediately check over your shoulder to make sure no one saw that, cursing yourself as your stomach twisted and a blush flooded the back of your neck. You squeezed your legs together as you responded.

to: lin

how many days till you’re home?

from: lin

just over a month

from: lin

so far to many

You sighed, picking up your coffee and heading to work. Long distance sucked. You missed him constantly. It’s not like you were mad at him for committing to Mary Poppins; the opposite, actually. You had never been so proud of your boyfriend, you just wished that your job allowed you to see him more.

Still, when he posted a picture of himself at the BAFTs, you couldn’t help it when you bought a plane ticket for the following Saturday to surprise him.

That night in Europe, Lin FaceTimed you off his Mac, instantly greeting you with a smile.

You couldn’t help but notice the bags under his eyes from working so hard. It was late, too: maybe 11. Lin usually didn’t stay up much later than nine, but he really wanted to see your face after work today. He was in bed, the computer on his lap, dressed in boxers and a blue tee.

You felt the tears well up in your eyes as you saw his face. The two of you talked every day, but you only FaceTimed once or twice a week as a result of your schedules.

“I miss you,” the two of you said at the same time. Lin threw his head back in a laugh, a giggle escaping your own lips as you poured yourself a glass of water.

“Tell me about your day,” Lin said.

You instantly fueled his request with stories of weird encounters at the hospital you worked at. Lin listened endearingly to each one. He told you about how much he was learning and how happy he was. Throughout it all, however, he never made it past five minutes without telling you how much he loved you.

As it two in the morning for him and eight for you, he yawned.

“I’ll talk to you tomorrow, babe. Get some rest,” you said. He went to argue but sighed when a yawn interrupted him.

“I love you,” he said.

You smiled, “I love you too.”

Across the ocean, Lin hung up the FaceTime and grinned to himself. He was beyond tired, but despite his mind’s need for sleep, he went onto Delta airlines and booked a flight to New York for next Saturday.

The weekend came sooner than you expected. Maybe it was your excitement to see him, but before you knew it, it was Friday evening and you were packing a bag and setting an alarm for five a.m.

Lin was doing the same in Britain, adding your favorite sweatshirt that he had forgotten to leave for you at home. He smiled to himself, thanking the front desk man as he left the building.

“I’ll be back on Wednesday,” Lin said, practically skipping to the cab outside.

You drove yourself to the airport, working your way through customs before settling down on the plane. This time tomorrow, you thought, you’ll be in his arms.

Lin boarded his plane, the grin never leaving his face. He was so close to being with you, he couldn’t wait. This time tomorrow, he thought, you’ll be in his arms.

You didn’t get as much sleep as you were hoping to one the jet, but you immediately felt rejuvenated at the thought of being with Lin in just over an hour.

Lin on the other hand, managed to sleep the entire way. He walked sleepily off the plane, slugging his backpack over his shoulders. JFK was huge, but he knew it like the back of his hand, weaving in and out of people to get through customs. Lin was was speed walking towards the parking lot where his Uber was waiting. He kept his hood up to avoid too much attention, grinning to himself when he saw the same model of your car.


That was your car. He double checked the license plate, confirming it was yours. What were you doing at the airport? Did you forget to tell him you were leaving the state? Even then, you always texted him before your flights. He checked his phone, making sure it wasn’t still on airplane mode. Nothing. Hoping you weren’t in the air, he called you.

In Europe, you had just walked into his apartment complex, waving to the bellman as you walked up the stairs.

“I’m surprising my boyfriend,” you explained. The man nodded, ushering you forward.

You felt your phone jolt. Lin.

Grinning, you answered the phone, “Hello?” You asked innocently.

“Where are you right now?” He asked suddenly. You almost laughed.

“Why don’t you open your door and find out,” you smirked, leaning up against the wall outside of his apartment.

“What? I’m not home,” he said.

Your brows furrowed, “It’s like, ten at night. Where are you?”

“Where are you?” He questioned.

“I’m, uh, outside your apartment,” you mumbled.

You heard him groan, “You’ve got to be kidding me.” You frowned slightly before he continued, “I’m at JFK.”

“What?” You almost shouted, quickly lowering your voice to avoid waking up his neighbors.

“I was trying to surprise you.” He said lightly, making your heart ache.

“I was trying to surprise you too,” you smiled.

“I love you,” you both said in sync. Giggling, you asked what to do.

“I have to head home on Sunday, so if either of us fly home, we’ll barely get any time together,” you sighed.

You heard Lin huff, “But I miss you.”

“I miss you too,” you sighed.

“Okay, uh - go down to the front desk and I’ll call and tell them to give you a key to my room. You can stay there, and I guess I’ll just go to the house.” Lin reasoned.

You nodded, “Okay. Will you water the herb garden?” He chuckled before agreeing.

“I love you, thank you for being so perfect,” you said.

“I love you more. I’ll see you in a month, mi reina,” He said before hanging up.

He hit his head against the seat of the Uber he had gotten into, groaning.

Monday came quickly, Lin had given you a few restaurants to go to, a museum to visit, and even had you stop into his office to meet a few people. It was amazing, but didn’t make it any less lonely.

Lin took the day to himself, walking into your favorite cafe with a grin on his face. He spent most of it at home, just hanging out. The only thing that would’ve made it better was you.

On your flight home, you were honestly a little pissed. You were tired and hungry and a little unsatisfied, for lack of better words. Both of you had made these grand gestures, and neither of you were able to see each other. It wasn’t fair. Snuggled up in one of his sweaters you had stolen form his closet, you tried to sleep until you landed.

to: lin

landed. thanks for a fun weekend :/ love u

You unlocked you car and climbed in, immediately jacking the heat. February in New York was not warm. Shivering slightly, you started your trek home. It wasn’t more than a 45 minute drive, but it felt shorter than usual.

Shutting the garage, you walked into your house, throwing your keys onto the counter. You glanced at your watch: 4:36. You weren’t particularly hungry, but got some popcorn to eat while you watched some TV before dinner.

You trudged into the living room, the bowl of popcorn in your arm as you checked your phone for texts from Lin; nothing. He was probably in the air -

“Hey, Y/N.”

You jumped, your popcorn falling to the floor and littering the carpet. Your head snapped up to see him. Lin. Sitting on the couch, criss cross applesauce.

“Oh my God,” you breathed.

Lin smiled as he stood up, “You didn’t actually think I’d let you go without seeing you, right?”

The tears in your eyes welled up and you thought your heart might explode it was beating so fast. You sprinted the last few steps across the living room, nearly collapsing on top of him. He caught you, burying his face in your neck, holding you in his arms.

God, I miss you.” He sighed. You squeezed your eyes shut, willing the tears to stop.

“I love you so much,” you laughed lightly, backing away just enough to see his face. One of his hands left your back to brush away a stray tear before bringing it back to hold you as tightly as he could.

He smiled as you took his face in your hands, pressing a gentle kiss to his lips. You could feel his grin against your mouth as you tanged your hands in his hair, tugging slightly when he nipped your bottom lip.

He pressed his forehead to yours, “I love you too, mi reina. I love you too.“

You’re My Open Road

Swoops/Kent, continuation of The Legend of Kent Parson’s Sex Hair.

read on ao3

Swoops suggests the road trip off-hand, between topics of a stream-of-consciousness conversation they’re having on a bus to Boston. Kent is leaning on Swoops’ shoulder and has been for the last hour. Nobody questions it anymore. They’ve been in each other’s pockets since last summer, and if they’ve suddenly started to gravitate a little closer than before, well, nobody asks and they’re not telling. But there’s always an open seat for Kent next to Swoops, or vice versa, whenever the team is on a bus or a plane or at a restaurant or hanging out at someone’s house yelling abuse over a non-hockey sports game that few of them really care about. 

It’s as close to open acceptance as they’ll get, short of coming out. Swoops is willing to grab it with both hands and push the boundaries of acceptable PDA as much as Kent and their respective careers will allow.

Kent is leaning on Swoops’ shoulder and Swoops is leaning against the window of the bus. The arm-rest between them has been pushed up so Kent can squeeze close and Swoops can put an arm around him. Kent’s voice has gotten drowsy and his responses slow. When Swoops says, “You wanna take a road trip this summer?” he gets a sleepy mumble in reply.

“Road trip?”

“Yeah. Pack up the bare minimum and just hit the road. Drive ‘til we get somewhere. Sleep in bad motels and cheap campgrounds.” He realizes that he’s absentmindedly stroking Kent’s arm with the tips of his fingers. It’s blatant affection but he can’t seem to stop.

“…You wanna take a road trip in your SUV?” Kent asks. “That’s like going to a drive-in in a limo.”

“We’ll rent something. It doesn’t even have to be a car,” he adds, thinking out loud. “My aunt did a cross-country thing with her biker group.”

Kent gives a light snort against Swoops’ shirt. “You’d need a motorcycle license.”

“I’ve got one. Just haven’t ridden for a while.”

Swoops thinks he can feel Kent’s smile. “You? Really?”

“Yeah? Why, you think I’m lying?”

“No. Just, I don’t know. You don’t seem the type. You’re so straight-laced.”

I fucked you in a supply closet in the Vegas Hockey Arena, Swoops thinks. I fucked you ‘til you couldn’t speak; ‘til you were so sweaty and shaking so badly that I almost dropped you. What he says is, “I’m full of surprises.”

Keep reading

Gasser M1870 Montenegrin revolver

Manufactured somewhere in Europe for King Nicholas I of Montenegro’s thought that everyone there should have a gun. Don’t ask. Serial number  128260.
11,3x36mmR five-round cylinder, side loading gate with pivoting manual ejector rod stored in the cylinder’s axis, nickel plated, double action.

Nevermind its being chambered for a modified 11,15x36mmR Werndl carbine cartridge, the manual safety on the right side of the frame of the Gasser revolver allowed it to be carried without risk of accidental discharge.The soldier only had to press the trigger to disengage it and unload his oversized firearm on his enemies. Such a wonderful gun.

4:56 PM, Monday Afternoon at the Monsieur Valjean Household


Valjean walked into the kitchen. His feet were hurting, and all he wanted to do was pop open a Copa di Vino and curl up next to their fireplace that was made entirely of amethyst crystals (it opened up the room, Javert had told him, when telling him how much the project would cost and how much labor Jean, himself, would have to do) whilst reading a book, or catching up on Outlanders. 

Instead, he was greeted with the displeased face of his husband, Javert, standing in front of the fridge with his arms crossed over his chest. The redness of his angry cheeks bounced colorfully off the Apple-Green lime colored walls.

Jean stopped dead in his tracks, blinking in confusion. “Are you alright, honey?” 

“Am I- Am.” Javert huffed, and looked away, as though he was astounded that Valjean could ever ask that question. “Am I alright? You tell me. Do I like alright?” He was wearing his Sperry-brand boat shoes, with the blue button-up that he seemed to reserve for his most… Well. What Jean could only describe as his most ‘high-maintenance’ days. 

“…No. I’m just not certain why. It would help if you told me.” Maybe he would be forced to add ‘one hit from the pocket vape’ on his itinerary for the night.

Javert’s stance only tightened, his lips squeezing in the way that meant he was about to launch into yet another of his tirades. “You tell me.” With a flourish, he opened their chrome-plated, double-door fridge, complete with the pull-out freezer, and produced… A bag of Kraft cheese? 

“…Cheese.” Jean said. Javert merely stood there with the cheese in hand, offering no explanation and, indeed, no inclination to move, or progress the conversation, apparently. “It, uh,” Valjean said, after a moment, at a loss for words and resorting to the only thing he did know; taste in food. “It tastes good in quesadillas.”

“It tastes good in HELL!” Javert screeched, and threw the bag of cheese at Valjean to catch. He did catch the bag, of course, and Javert’s eyes were clearly momentarily distracted by the brief flex of muscle that was hinted at under his Calvin Klein green blazer.

Valjean sniffed, and said ominously, “You do not know of hell, Javert.” 

Javert blinked, and waited for an explanation. Without recieving one, he continued, “You bought Kraft™*. Cheddar cheese. To my house. To MY HOUSE.”

It’s just cheese, sweetheart!” Ah. He knew where this was going now. There was no avoiding it now. And… Here it was. 

“I’m sorry, I didn’t realize I married Mansanto!” Javert’s voice could be grating on a good day. Standing here, in front of the open fridge, while he screeched at Valjean, it was just about unbearable. As though a 1980′s leather daddy had decided ASMR was his next big breakthrough. 

Valjean sighed, and dutifully turned around to throw the bag of shredded cheese into the garbage. He turned back to his husband. “There. See, Javert? All gone now. No more quesadillas for me.” 

Javert’s gaze went from the garbage can, to Valjean, to the garbage can again, before he said, “Just confer with me on these things. You know Kraft™ is the devil-”

Before he could finish his thought, one of their many children happened to walk by. Enjorlas. The one Valjean worried the most about and the one Javert doted on more than the rest. He seemed to have heard the tail-end of the conversation, for he marched into the room in his bio-degradable and earth-friendly sandles with all the confidence of a Victoria’s Secret model. “Did I hear you say something about Kraft™? Funnily enough, I was reading-”

Fuck. Valjean loved them both so very much, and held both of them dearly in his heart, but there was no possible way on this godly earth that he was going to get subjected to an Enjorlas Soapbox special, likely to last at least an hour, maybe more, if Javert was heated enough to get involved, as well. 

He gave both his husband and adopted son a borderline apologetic look before he snuck behind Javert, grabbed a Chobani Greek Yogurt (his second of his allotted two yogurts per-day) and his can of Copa di Vino, and hightailed it out of the kitchen. 

He’s let one of the other kids deal with the fiasco in the kitchen. He was having a dinner date with The Daily Show with Trevor Noah and going to bed.

*[AN: Both Javert and Enjorlas pronounce the ( tm ) portion of the brand name out lout.]

From my warm bed:

Last week, I brought my toaster to our apartment from my mom’s place and, for the first time in a long-ass time, toasted myself two slices of fresh Korean bakery milk bread and buttered them. They were so good that I nearly cried at the table. It reminded me of growing up, but not in the bad way.

My car is so clean. So clean! It likes taking showers. Happy clean car.

I went on a cute date with a cute date at the Pin-Pal-Palooza event at Nucleus a few days ago, and we bought matching chicken pins.

The heat wave has been defeated by a few startlingly unexpected yet wholly appreciated days and nights of rain. I’m so glad I was too lazy to take the bedheater out, because being all snuggly and warm in my pillow nest while listening to the rain and breathing in the chilly breeze from the window is honestly probably my favorite place to be.

For now, my immediate future actually looks pretty cool. My stress level still fluctuates, but it’s on a steady and predictable downswing and I feel calmer daily.

This morning, inspired by a tumblr post, I changed my lock screen and phone wallpaper and every time I see the new images I smile involuntarily.

Karen made a chicken-cheese-rice-vegetables thing for dinner last night and it smelled so tasty that I asked for a bigger portion than I would normally eat and it was goddamn delicious and I finished my whole plate.

Bought doubles for my current go-to flip-flops because they were on clearance. They’re so comfortable.

Nowadays, I’m starting to like, or at least feel comfortable with who I am- what I’m like, how I look, what I think, how I feel, what I can and can’t do, how I deal with difficult things in my life. I’m coming to learn to accept some mistakes I made in the past. I’m finding that I can handle the problems I have right now, and my decisions are actually okay, and I’m doing shockingly fine. It’s strange, and I’m still not going to let myself get used to it, but for now I’m gonna breathe and try to believe that I’m all right. And I am. My hair is kinda cute nowadays. My nails are growing out. My lips don’t bleed.

Sometimes I even wake up feeling rested.

British Bulldog revolver

Manufactured by Forehand and Wadsworth -possibly before their restructuring into a fleshlight manufacturing company- serial number 74671.
.32 Bulldog seven-round fluted cylinder, double action, nickle-plated, pivoting manual ejector rod stored in the cylinder axis with side-loading gate.

Perfect to blow your wad.

Imagine your first date with Chris.

A/N: Here’s Part 2, y'all. The continuation to the barista one. It can be read as a one shot as well. Enjoooooy. X

You heard a knock at your door and you jumped up from your bed, your cool hands suddenly clammy. You’d spent a lot of time with Chris over the past few days but it was always at work, it was a different dynamic now that it was just the two of you; you could no longer turn to Oliver for help. You sprayed the air with your signature perfume- ‘Candy’ by Prada- and walked through the mist, refreshing your scent. With a quick swipe to straighten your dress and dry your hands, you walked out to open the front door.

As you passed the mirror in the hallway, you gave yourself a quick once-over to make sure you looked as good as you possibly could for your date with Chris. You definitely needed to look as good as you possibly could considering you were about to stand next to the handsomest man on the planet.

You had to admit, you cleaned up pretty well. Your usually tied-up-into-a-pony hair was let loose and slightly curled; you’d ditched the Starbucks uniform and your worn Sketchers for a gorgeous blue sequin shift dress and a pair strappy blue stilettos that showcased your long legs. You left the make up simple because you believed it was there to enhance your natural beauty, not cover it. With a deep breath and a “good luck” from your reflection, you opened the door for Chris.


Chris stood on the other side, clean-shaven and in a ice blue shirt and beige slacks with a bouquet of red roses in his hand; even dressed casually, he looked incredibly handsome and ridiculously hot. The hot thing came from the fact that he had folded his sleeves up to his elbows, most girls seemed to have a kink for that and you were one of the most.

“Wow yourself,” you chuckled.

“You look amazing,” Chris breathed with a smile on his lips. You lowered your gaze, smiling and hiding your blush; that made him even more nervous than he already was. “Um-” He cleared his throat. “These are for you.” He stuck out the bouquet in the most awkward way and mentally slapped himself. “See,” he chuckled nervously. “I’m as human as you are.”

“I feel better now,” you smiled and took them off his hands. “You look very handsome.”

“Yeah you too,” he blurted out without thinking; he winced and you giggled. “I meant-” He chuckled nervously. “You look very beautiful, but um- I’ve already said that.” He chuckled and you smiled, blushing deeper than before. “So um- Should we get going?”

“Yeah,” you nodded.
• • • • • • • •
“This place looks awfully fancy,” you said softly as you looked around.

The restaurant that Chris took you to was in a hotel that looked like something out of a Hollywood movie; a given considering you were dating a Hollywood actor. The marble floors were polished to the point where you could see your own reflection. The sparkling chandeliers looked magical, dangling from the ceiling like delicate little raindrops. The ambience was so posh that even in your best dress, you felt out of place.

“You know- I would’ve been comfortable having dinner anywhere, you don’t have to spend so much money on me.” You told Chris and you saw him stifle his laughter by pressing his lips together. “I get that you can afford it,” you chuckled. “But I’m just saying it’s not necessary.”

“I had to take you somewhere that matched your extravagance,” he teased. “Relax and let me do my thing,” he smiled and placed his hand on the small of your back; you felt your legs almost give way. “This way, Y/N.” He said and steered you towards a plate glass double door with black and gold riming.

“Mr. Evans.” A bald man in a suit greeted him with a wide smile. For some reason, his smile made you uncomfortable; it reminded you of the Cheshire Cat from Alice in Wonderland. “I have your table ready for you and your beautiful lady friend.” He eyed you pervertedly, his gaze lingering on your chest before moving down to your legs.

You instinctively crossed your arms over your chest.

Chris gently pushed you behind him as a protective measure, his tall frame shielded you from the man’s perverted gaze. You watched him from behind, absorbing every inch of his protective fibre. The lines at each corner of his luscious lips were becoming more and more prominent as he tightened his jaw, the dents in his furrowed eyebrows, his tensed broad shoulders, his flared nostrils, and his once beautiful blue eyes, growing darker by the second.

“I strongly suggest you lead us to our table before I make this the worst night of your pathetic life.” Chris growled at him through his clenched teeth; despite being furious, he was still oddly rational with the way he spoke and carried himself.

“Y- yes Mr. E- Evans.” The man stuttered, looking more than a little flustered. “I’m- uh- I’m very, very sorry. Right this way, sir. If you’d follow me.” He quickly grabbed a couple of menus off his podium and led the two of you into the restaurant.

“The next time I take you out you’re wearing a potato sack,” Chris joked then laughed when you did. “You really are a magnet for douchebags, aren’t you?” You laughed and scoffed simultaneously. “Just shows how drop dead gorgeous you are,” he winked.

“On the plus side, I got another glimpse of protective Chris.” You joked and he raised an eyebrow, prompting an explanation. “I like protective Chris, he is very hot.” You told him and he laughed, touching his left boob.

“Right well then-” He placed his hand on the small of your back again and led you into the restaurant. “You better remind me to walk you past a group of drunken men after dinner,” he teased and you laughed.
• • • • • • • •
The rest of the night was actually as easy going as the chats you’ve had with him at work. The two of you talked like you’d known each other all your lives, a cliché you thought you’d never get to experience. He asked you about your life; your friends, family, hopes, dreams, aspirations, and he actually listened and showed interest in the things you were telling him. You spoke with him about his career, his family, his own hopes, dreams and aspiration- then his puppy, Dodger, which you’d spent a little more time talking about then you’d planned. What were you going to do? You were a dog person and you loved his; he promised that you could meet Dodger if you ever decided to come to Boston. He spent the entire night treating you like a complete lady, and by the end of it, you’d fallen in love with more than Chris Evans, the actor.

“I feel like maybe you shouldn’t have spent so much time at my workplace 'cause it seems like we’ve run out of conversational topics.”

You let go of his hand and skipped in front of him. It was a lot easier for you to maneuver around now that you weren’t wearing your heels and he was carrying them; he had to admit that you were also a hell of a lot cuter now that you were much shorter than him.

“Us, run out of conversational topics?” He chuckled, and you turned around and started to walk backwards in front of him. “Y/N, we’ve spent an hour just talking about gummy bears.” He reminded you and you laughed. “I’m sure we can think of something to talk about, with that creative mind of yours.”

“What are your thoughts on New York?” You asked. “Do you think it’s really a concrete jungle where dreams are made of?”

“I’ll answer that once you stop walking backwards,” he reached for your hand but you pulled away playfully. “I’m afraid you’re going to trip over and get hurt. You said you are known for your carelessness,” he reminded you.

“My date’s Captain America,” you grinned, “I don’t think I have to worry.”

“Stop it, you’re going to hurt yourself.” He chuckled and grabbed your wrist, pulling you into him. You bit back a smile as you clashed into his chest. He dropped your hand and gently reached for your face, you swallowed as he brushed loose strands of your hair behind your ear. “I’m going to kiss you,” he whispered as he leaned in, cupping your cheek in his free hand.

“Okay,” you whispered.

Your lips touched and fireworks went off. He dropped your heels and wrapped his arm tightly around your body. He pressed his lips onto yours lightly to begin with then a little harder, wanting to be as close as he could to you. You kissed him back and wrapped your arms around his neck, drawing your body closer to his- like that was even possible. He took a deep breath, taking in your sweet perfume and his entire body grew weak. His hand that was on your cheek moved down to your neck and he kissed you even harder. He was afraid that his harsh actions would hurt you because to him, you were like this porcelain doll he didn’t want to break. He became so lost in the kiss and so overwhelmed by love and lust that he nearly lifted you up onto his hips and carried you off, then he remembered the two of you weren’t in the privacy of a room but in public.

“Chris,” you panted when you came up for air; your delicate fingers finding their way around the locks of his hair. He looked deep into your eyes and pressed his forehead against yours as he waited for you to say something. “I think you dropped my shoes.” You whispered and he chuckled.

People said a love as magical as this only existed in the movies and you always thought that to be true, but after spending less than a week with Chris- a man you met at a Starbucks- you knew now that it could be reality.

A Secret Flame :: One Shot

Karamel Fanfiction Challenge :: Bodyguard!AU :: Posted On Ao3

How does a forbidden love find its way?

“All rise for Empress Kara Zor-El, First of Her Name, Ruler and Protector of Karnaca.”

All the seated individuals in the grand hall arose from their seats. The ladies curtsied, with the head slightly downcast and one hand pinching and raising up their dresses, while the men bowed with an arm crossed over their midsection. Kara was patiently standing behind the enormous, gold plated double doors waiting for her name and title to be called before she made her formal appearance to the court in her throne room, and then led the guests to the gala that was to be held in her honor.

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anonymous asked:

Hello Jieun! Can I ask what you brought or what things a first-year student should bring if they're dorming for the first time? I don't live on the mainland US but I'm going there for college, so I want to make sure I have everything. Thank you! <3

your university should have a list of things first years are recommended to bring!!! but personally, the most important things i found v useful are:

  • reusable water bottle (i have two!!!)
  • water pitcher + extra filters
  • printer
  • bedding (twin size sheets, pillow case, blankets, etc.)
  • hangers
  • extra storage boxes for clothes
  • mini fridge/microwave (my uni provided a fridge for apartment style dorms but idk about yours so double check!)
  • microwavable plates/utensils
  • laundry basket
  • shower caddy + slippers (if you have to share a communal bathroom… i never did but i know lots of unis do so ://)
  • towels
  • extension cord
  • basic toiletries
  • any personal items (laptop, headphones, etc. you know the drill~)

what’s up buttercups? i’m working 5-11 tonight and i’ve got a double on my plate from 10:30-9 tomorrow, and then i turn around monday morning and work 10:30-4; as it is, i’m going to be most readily available right now, and i want to try and cut down on drafts so i’m going to be working on writing/queueing those at the moment. i’ll be around on d/iscord and IM if you want to chat. other than that, have a good day!

wrecked | part one

part two [coming soon]

ashton + reader
word count: 1252

writing masterlist / request/ask/feedback

summary: you wreck one of ashton’s prized possessions and he’s not very happy about it 


everyone knew how sentimental ashton was, he made sure to keep everything that he felt needed to be cherished in tip-top condition and it wasn’t really a surprise to you when you found out he had a cupboard just for the awards the band had won.

he’d gotten the cupboard custom made with wood cut and smoothed from the finest oak and double-plated glass for doors, displaying the numerous awards his band had gotten over the years.

ashton had never really come right out and say that you weren’t allowed to touch the prize cabinet, but it worked as a sort of unspoken rule that you and your butter fingers weren’t allowed anywhere near his prized possessions.

aside from your butter fingers, you also had a knack for being way too curious and one day, while ashton was at the studio, you decided you wanted to know what it felt like to hold an american music award.

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1855 John Stull Stereo Viewer Double Dag Daguerreotype Quarter Plate

A stereoscope is a device for viewing a stereoscopic pair of separate images, depicting left-eye and right-eye views of the same scene, as a single three-dimensional image.

Two separate images are printed side-by-side. When viewed without a stereoscopic viewer the user is required to force his eyes either to cross, or to diverge, so that the two images appear to be three. Then as each eye sees a different image, the effect of depth is achieved in the central image of the three.

Embossed United States of America, Patented by John Stull Feb. 27, 1855. Orders furnished to any part of the United States or in Europe by the patentee S.W. Corner 6th 8 Chestnut St. Philadelphia, PA, green cover with gold embossing, Item is complete and comes with a rare stereo dag of a beautiful young girl in period clothes

Surge - cc ficlet

Title: Surge
Pairing: Chris/Darren
Length/Rating: ~1,350 / G
Summary: Quite simply: a meet-cute in an UberPool (original self-prompt)


Darren just wants to go home. Rehearsals for the reading the next week had been a bitch that day; some of the songs weren’t coming together and too many of the actors had early outs that were fucking with the schedule. There’s not much Darren can do about it though – he shows up at his call time, knows his parts, and just hopes that this reading might be the one to lead to something more.

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