i need to wash this shirt soon

anonymous asked:

“Why are you stealing my clothes?” for marichat please? :)

“Why are you stealing my clothes?” Chat Noir groaned, weakly batting at Marinette’s hand.

“Stop,” she demanded, pulling the zipper of his suit down. Her heart stuttered at the blood welling up in the wounds crossing his chest. “Tikki?”

“I’m trying, Marinette,” the kwami replied quietly as she nibbled on a cookie. Cleansing the akuma had been too much this time. Ladybug’s transformation had fallen without warning and Marinette had been left to drag a barely conscious Chat Noir into the nearest alley before either of them could be seen while Tikki recharged before they could perform the Miraculous Cure.

“My Lady. I have to help Ladybug.” Chat Noir tried to push himself up but cried out as Marinette forced him back down to the dirty alley ground. 

“Ladybug is fine, Kitty. Stay still.”

“Hurt. She’s hurt…”

Marinette ignored the deep stinging sensation that began at the back of her neck and trailed down her spine. The cut wasn’t deep enough that she couldn’t function but she knew she wasn’t in the best shape. She could feel her shirt sticking to the drying blood. This akuma had been the worst they had faced yet. Hawkmoth wasn’t playing around anymore. “She’ll survive.”

“Can’t see. Mari?” He blinked up at her blindly, eyes a cloudy green. Whatever the powder was that had been in the akuma’s pouch had been effective in hampering her partner. His claws dug into her arm as he held onto her. “Marinette? Is that you? Why are you here?”

She eased his grip away. “It’s me. I’ve got you, Chat. You got hurt by the akuma, okay? Ladybug is going to fix everything.”

“She needs me.” He tried to get up again.

“She needs you to be okay. You’re really hurt, Chat.”

“Don’t care,” he grunted, fighting against her.

“I swear, Chaton, stop fighting me right now.” Marinette pushed on both his shoulders and pinned him to the ground. “The more you move, the more blood you lose.”

“I failed her,” he whispered.

She brushed his hair away from his forehead and pressed a kiss against his clammy skin. “You didn’t. You were very brave. Reckless but brave.”

He swallowed hard and Marinette could see more blood leak from his wounds. “It’s not good, is it, Princess?”

“I’m going to fix it, Chat. I promise.” She glanced to her kwami and Tikki nodded. As Marinette called up her transformation, Chat Noir’s finally fell, an exhausted Plagg dropping to his side. “Adrien.” Ladybug put a hand to her mouth in shock as tears pricked her eyes. His shirt began to grow wet with  blood and Plagg lifted his head tiredly. 

“He doesn’t have much time, Bug.”

She nodded, standing and tossing her yoyo up. “Miraculous Ladybug!” Ladybug watched the magical ladybug wash over his form before she collapsed beside him as they worked on her.

Tikki joined Plagg as soon as Marinette was unconscious and curled against Adrien’s side.

“That was too close,” she murmured.

“They’re going to need help,” he agreed. “Time to call in reinforcements.”

Prompt List

Buy me a coffee?

Sleepy Songs (Evan Hansen x Reader)

A/N: ???????

WC: 1,052

Request: evan having trouble sleeping and so the reader sings him to sleep?? omgjsjf

When Evan was younger, Heidi used to sing to him before he went to bed. His favorite was when she sang “Across the Universe” while cradling him. It made him feel safe and loved. He looked forward moment to that every day. Unfortunately, after Evan’s dad left them, the singing started happening less and less. Until one day, it just stopped. Like with most issues, Evan hid his sadness over the matter.

As the years went by, those late night serenades became just a sad memory. He assumed he wouldn’t need that kind of attention anymore. Until one night, when everything became a little too much.

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anonymous asked:

How about cat boy Shiro & shance?

It got away from me….
Lance yawned as he opened to door to his house, tired after a full day of work. Allura was a slave driver, having him work the clearance floor of the fashion building. There had been a huge sale today, customers having flooded the shop and nearly cleaning it out, and not all of them were nice to him.

He sighed and rubbed his eyes, shutting the door behind him. After getting changed into some sweatpants and an old t-shirt, he flopped on the couch, shutting his eyes. He got about what felt like ten minutes of blessed sleep before a crash and a yowl of pain woke him up, the lanky 25 year old man bolting upright in surprise. He got up and looked at the clock. What the fuck? Who was even awake at 4am?

With a groan, he got up and decided to investigate the sound. He shrugged on a light jacket and stepped out onto the porch, bare feet cold against the concrete. He glanced around and walked over to where a soft whimpering was coming from, the alleyway with all the trash cans.

“Hello?” He called, padding inside the alleyway, hand against the wall of his house. His eyes caught a hunched shape next to the dumpster, something big with a twitching tail and curled in on itself. Oh.

Now that he was closer, he could see it was a Hybrid, creatures that were a common pet in this city. This one was a Cat Hybrid, with long, messy and dirty black hair and ears and a white forelock and a white tipped black tail. It was making soft, pained sounds, gripping at its right arm.

“Here kitty kitty, what’s wrong?” Lance crooned, attempting to appear as non-threatening as possible. Which wasn’t hard, he could see the muscles through the tattered shirt on the Cat Hybrid’s body, even though it looked very malnourished. He walked a little closer, trying to recall everything Hunk had told him about Cat Hybrids since the big guy worked at a shelter for all kinds of Hybrids, like Keith, a mixed breed of a Cat and a Wolf Hybrid.

The Hybrid’s head shot up, staring at him with wide, panicked silver eyes that were admittedly quite pretty. Now that he could see its face, Lance could tell the Cat Hybrid was male, and hurt too by the bloody cut across his nose. The Hybrid growled warningly, ears flattened back and tail puffed up in fear.

Lance held up his hands, palms outwards, staying calm like Hunk had taught him when handling scared Hybrids. “Woah there, Kitty, I’m not here to hurt you. I’m just trying to help. Can you let me do that?” He soothed, focus entirely on the terrified Hybrid.

The growling paused for a moment, wavering, and an almost curious look flashed through those gray eyes before being replaced with more caution. Lance took a small step forward, encouraged.

“You don’t look too good there, Kitty. Want me to get you some food and a bandage for that cut on your pretty face?” He cooed, shuffling a little closer and crouching low to appear smaller, less dangerous. The Hybrid’s ears flicked, indecision flickering across his face. Lance was now close enough to reach forward with one hand, carefully.

The Hybrid leaned forward, uncurling a little to sniff at Lance’s fingers, before cautiously turning his cheek against the Cuban man’s palm before pulling back a little with a soft whine. Lance smiled gently, keeping his teeth hidden, and ran his hand over the Hybrid’s hair and ears, a small purr startling both males.

Lance spoke up again. “Hey, let’s get you into my place so we can fix you up, okay?” The Hybrid blinked, confused, but allowed Lance to pull him up and suddenly Lance had to reevaluate this because the Cat Hybrid was taller than him by a head and a lot wider than skinny little Twig Lance. Not to mention heavy! For someone so emaciated, he sure packed a lot of weight!

Lance carefully led the Cat Hybrid out of the alleyway and into his house, shutting the door quietly and tugging him into the bathroom. “Okay, I know cats hate water, but we need to get you washed and cleaned before we bandage you up.” Lance explained to the startled Cat, who was staring at his reflection in the mirror with something akin to horror.

Lance filled the bathtub with hot but not scalding soapy water, and guided the Hybrid in. The water seemed to relax the dirty kitty, and Lance easily pulled off the ragged and soon to be burned old shirt and boxers the Hybrid had been wearing, finally able to assess the damages.

The Cat was covered in old scars and new injuries, like he’d been in a fighting ring. His right arm was missing, obviously recently because the stump hadn’t healed completely and was an angry reddish purple, blotchy and clearly infected. The poor Cat was going to need a Vet, and Lance hoped Hunk would cover this. But first he had to do what he could to help, since he’d never been one to turn down a creature in need.

He set to work, using safe shampoos and soaps to clean the dirt and blood away, having to drain and refill the tub several times until the water stayed mostly clear and bubbly. The Cat Hybrid flinched with every wound wiped down, but seemed to recognize that Lance was helping him and didn’t fight back. Lance hummed to fill the silence, a soothing Spanish lullaby his Mama loved singing.

Once he finished, he rinsed the Cat one last time before leaving to grab some overly large clothes that would probably fit the huge Hybrid, which he was guessing was of the Maine Coon variety. He came back and drained the tub, tugging the relaxed kitty out and drying him off, bandaging every wound with a bandaid or gauze before helping him into soft, clean clothes that actually fit the Cat just right, if not only slightly tight.

“Okay, just a haircut and then some food, sound good?” Lance soothed, sitting the other male on the closed toilet and holding up a pair of scissors and a hair razor. The Cat eyed the items warily, but merely made a soft noise of agreement before letting his eyes fall shut.

Lance pulled a towel over the Cat’s neck and shoulders, before setting to work snipping the long, tangled black locks of hair. He shaved away the worst of it, giving the Hybrid an undercut and leaving the top alone, trimming around the ears to a short, fluffy length and even grooming the ears and tail to get rid of the matting. The white forelock was left a little longer than the rest, since Lance found it kind of cute.

He cleared away the mess and once again tugged the Cat Hybrid by the wrist along with him to the kitchen, the poor kitty making a soft mew, a wordless question. “Food then! You look pretty hungry, kitty, and I think I still have a package of turkey somewhere.” Lance clarified, gesturing for the Hybrid to sit on the couch while he entered the kitchen to rummage around his fridge.

He came back to see the Cat Hybrid looking around curiously, tail flicking and ears up, which was definitely a good sign if he was showing interest in his surroundings. Lance gave himself a mental high five and cleared his throat lightly, gathering the kitty cat’s attention. He held up the package of turkey and had to stop himself from giggling at the way the Hybrid’s eyes lit up and ears perked, staring at the wrapped meat hungrily. His stomach let out a demanding growl too, and Lance definitely laughed then.

“Haha, okay, here you go then.” Lance chuckled, opening the plastic package and unwrapping the seal around the meat, plopping it back into the container and handing it to the Cat Hybrid.

While the cat scarfed down the meat, Lance dug his phone out of his jacket.

He had a few calls to make.
This….. got waaaaaaaayyy out of control…… it was supposed to be a small fluffy fic and I turned it into some angst? And yes, Shiro is the nameless Hybrid. I don’t suppose you’d want more, maybe? I mean I wouldn’t mind making more? Gah- I need to stop making all these AU’S, my brain is out of control ;0;
Hope you enjoyed!

(edit- here’s chapter 2- https://tokyoteddywolf.tumblr.com/post/161255787588/companions-au-chapter-2 )

anonymous asked:

Hi! Cam you make an imagine about Niall is cheating on Y/N about 2 freaking year and he is cheating with Laura whitelaw (i have no hate on her) niall bestfriend and make it with part 2 or 3 I have no hate any nialls friend i just thought it with a twist😊

Here ya go! Hope you enjoy :) 

Unfaithful. Part 1 

Originally posted by niallhgifs

A/N: I changed the name of the innocent, it felt weird using her name haha :) 

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This Is Us -Chapter 8

 Parenting Is Not  Spectator Sport 

While the notoriety surrounding the recent wikileaks articles had died down considerably, both he and Claire wanted to preserve their privacy as long as they could. Only a small, trusted handful of Jamie’s close family and friends knew what had happened and Claire had only told Joe.

The press had no inkling thus far. Jamie bought a car seat and sometimes drove on days when he needed to transport Faith. If he and Claire were taking Faith on an outing together, they sometimes arrived separately. He’d also taken to wearing a beanie to cover his hair and often wore sunglasses. He refused to be too paranoid about it, the nip of winter was still occasionally in the air and he’d noticed that people tended to pay less attention when they were bundled up. His focus was on spending as much time as he could with Faith and getting to know Claire.

Jamie had seen or spoken with Faith every day, becoming familiar with her  routine and Claire’s variable work schedule. He began to get a feel for his daughter’s moods and personality, the things she liked to eat, what interested her.

Mrs. Crooke was delighted that her early mornings and late evening hours were fewer and farther between with Jamie stepping in as he may to help Claire cover early morning drop offs and afternoon pick ups at the daycare centre and supper and bedtime when Claire had evening rounds. Mr. Crooke had just retired and they wanted to spend time together. Juggling schedules was a learning curve but they both made a real effort to accommodate one another; neither of them wanted to burst the fragile bubble they were currently existing within.

When Claire had an early call or Jamie late meetings, an unavoidable happenstance in each’s respective line of work, they would shift things around so Jamie could start his day with his daughter, instead of ending it. On those mornings, Jamie would skip his early run, getting to Claire’s while Faith was still asleep. Claire  would bid him a quick good morning as she hurried off to get to the hospital.

Her not too subtle plan was clearly to throw he and Faith together as often as possible and build their bond. He didn’t mind and in repayment of such trust he did his best to pay attention to the things she thought most important for Faith and hope he’d be able to keep his actions consistent with hers.

Faith was especially adorable when she first awoke, her hair resembled a bird’s nest full of twisting strands, chirping away to herself as she did her best to make her bed and get herself dressed. He respected how Claire was fostering her sense of independence and responsibility. So while it would have been quicker for him to help her do certain tasks and speed her along, he didn’t rush in first thing and take over the morning chores. Instead, he’d wait until the chatting grew to an audible pitch before checking in on her.

Faith would squeal in delight on the mornings he popped his head in to greet her. Her smile, the best part of his day. He’d take stock of how far she’d gotten on her own. Then he’d lend her a hand to straighten the bed, pick up the remaining impedimenta strewn across the floor. Then they would put the finishing touches on the day’s ensemble. Sometimes tights would need to be rerouted, snaps realigned. Faith had very definite ideas of color and pattern matching, which he’d learned to, if not accept, then at least ignore.

“She picks her clothes out the night before and lays them on the bench near her toy box.” Claire had explained. “I used to buy things that all matched and try and keep the outfit together but gave that up soon enough. The pants will be in the wash or the sweater’s gone missing, or Faith wants to try something else with the tee shirt.”

Jamie didn’t say anything as he followed her around while she showed him where everything was kept and how it usually worked, but something must have shown on his face as he took in tomorrow’s ensemble of mismatched green hues. She gave him a rueful smile.

“It’s fine, she is learning to figure out what she likes. Better clashing clothing as a toddler than a terrible tattoo as a teen.” She sagely observed.

He’d responded with noncommittal, “Mmphm.”

The combinations could be somewhat arresting, at least to his eye. But, in all fairness, he’d never paid a lot of attention to what Jenny’s lassies wore.

Then again, he had two good eyes, did he not?

One day shortly thereafter, a morning both parents were booked, it was up to Mrs. Crooke to cover. Jamie had picked her up from daycare to find her in yellow and red striped pants and a neon pink and orange floral shirt. He snapped a picture of her and texted it to Claire, sans comment.

“Your way of saying she needs better parental guidance?” She texted right back.

“Never a chance.” He replied with an emoji of someone crossing his heart.

“Bright lad,” came the response, delighting Jamie.   

By far the most difficult part of getting Faith ready in the morning had been the hair.  When he tried to comb it out Faith would squirm and cry out when the comb hit a snag.  Jamie was slightly traumatized by his first forays into being her stylist.

Claire had a deft touch and was able to ignore any protestations from Faith, brush never hesitating, simply getting what needed to be done done. Jamie thought that was the same pragmatic attitude that likely made her an excellent surgeon. Whether due to skill or familiarity, Faith seemed to tolerate it better from her than him.

After one particularly trying morning, in which Jamie gave up and shoved a hat onto her head instead of continuing a losing battle, he called Jenny. He’d never once heard his nieces complain or whine (nor had Ian come to think of it) and both of their lasses had hair longer that Faith’s.

“Please, tell me how? This morning there was a stramash like to wake the dead. I’m no’ going through it again, so what do ye know that ye havena seen fit to tell the rest of us?”

Jenny laughed but she knew that Jamie hated admitting defeat and worried he was hurting his daughter.

“Detangler,” she confessed promptly, “it’s sold in a wee bottle at the salon. It costs the earth but ye spray it on the hair before you comb and it takes care of most of it. As for the rest, divide the hair to sections, then take hold of one section at a time, grab the locks in one hand near the crown and hold tight wi’ the one hand whilst combing wi’ the other, it pulls less. Ye just slowly work the tines through and don’t pull down too hard.” She advised.

“Any other tips?” As long as he was already throwing himself upon his sister’s mercy, he thought he might as well go all in. Jenny hummed a little as she thought.

“She likes music?” Jamie mmhmed in the affirmative.

“Grab yer tablet and load it up with OK, Go videos, all of them, ye can’t go wrong. She’ll be nicely distracted until ye get the hang of it.”

Three mornings later, Jenny received a text from him.

“Blessings of Mary and Bride upon you, a miracle!” With a photo of Faith taken from behind her head, reflecting her face in the mirror, smooth, whole head with shiny ringlets aglow.

Half a minute later one more text, “Tho I canna taker her to the gym wi’ me. I’m scarrit what the lass might try!” With a picture of Faith mid-twirl in imitation of dancing on treadmills from Here It Goes Again and a big smile emoji.

The new morning hair protocol was such a hit, even Claire remarked upon it, praising him mightily. Jamie’s ears grew pink, perhaps he was getting a handle on this parenting thing after all.

Mornings were a rushed time of the day and perhaps that was why Jamie preferred afternoons and evening with Faith. He would leave the office, just a little earlier than usual in order to make the pick up and got to spend a few hours with her. While he had outfitted his own flat with enough child paraphernalia to keep Faith safe, more often than not, he’d bring her to Claire’s, letting himself into her flat with a spare key. Claire didn’t mind his being there and it was often much easier to keep Faith occupied on her home turf which allowed him to finish out his work day from Claire’s living room with minimal interruption.

On Claire’s later shifts, Jamie would prepare dinner with Faith. Claire laughed the first time she’d walked into the kitchen to see him in her “Kiss the Cook” frilly apron, a gag gift from Joe, who meant the kiss part to be aspirational but also knew how terrible her culinary skills were.

She’d framed the card that went with it and hung it near the stove. It read:

“Dearest LJ,

If the way to a man’s heart is through his stomach,

Your best chance is with a scalpel, not a spatula!”

Jamie kept using the apron, anyway. He liked the silly domesticity of it and it was, after all, hanging right there; it might as well get some use.

Living alone, Jamie rarely cooked but now he looked forward to it. He joked that he knew her kitchen much better than his own. Claire joked that he knew it better than she did, too and it was true.

Faith was curious about everything and willing to do her part, like her mother she was a doer and not a watcher. It was an easy way to spend time together. Claire had a colorful step ladder that Faith used to reach sink and countertop.

She would climb up to stand next to him and mix and stir and wash vegetables. They experimented with vegetables and sauces, different kinds of grains. He’d rarely given much thought to planning a meal but Faith gave him a great incentive to do so. Besides, she made it fun. If she liked something, you knew it, if she didn’t her lips would pucker and sounds of protest would quickly emerge.

Any veg that could be dipped apparently passed muster but she had suspicions about all leafy greens. Her deepest reservations concerned spinach and kale. They were “slimy.”

Thinking himself clever, he made a chicken noodle soup one evening and slipped some chopped kale into it. He popped the meal in front of her and, not making eye contact, picked up his spoon. She eyed it fishily without doing the same. He knew she was watching his spoon as it travelled from bowl to mouth.

“No’ hungry, Faith?” he tried to sound matter of fact.

“What’s it?” She finally asked.

“Chicken soup. Ye like it, and I used the swirly noodles with all the colors.” He helpfully added, focusing on positive attributes.

“Mmphm.” Her mouth formed a hard line.

Jamie bit the inside of his cheek, recognizing where she had picked that expression up.

“Carrots and potatoes, a  little onion, too.” He added, she loved all of those.

At that moment, a shred of the kale slipped off of his spoon and hung unceremoniously from the underside directly in her line of sight.

“Nooo!” she cried out. Her pouting lips started to shake and tears suddenly maring her round cheeks.

Her voice rose in pitch and volume. “Out! Out! Ickies!”

The look of hurt betrayal in her eyes was far, far worse than spending a half an hour trying to pick out all the kale bits before ultimately concluding it a lost cause. As he stirred her mac and cheese, a reparation offered for his transgressions, he realized that he should have made two versions, a larger one he knew she would have no objections to and a smaller version with the kale to try.

When Claire came home, he promptly confessed.

“You brute! Is it the sin of commission for adding in the offensive veg or the sin of omission for selective ingredient listing that you seek absolution for, my lad?”

“Both.” he admitted. “The look on her face,” he shook his head back and forth. “The memory will give me the nightmare for sure. Her eyes grew big and her lip started to quiver. Ye’d ha’ thought I’d added Jane into the soup!” He shivered in memory.

“Parenting,” she blithely observed, “isn’t a spectator sport. It can be a messy business. Te Absolvo, Jamie.” Claire made the sign of the cross and kissed his cheek.

In sympathy perhaps, she ate an extra helping of the tainted soup and pronounced it delicious, he smiled as his ears turned a light shade of pink.

When he couldn’t be there in person, Jamie contented himself with a brief call. They found that while Faith was still too young to be interested in talking on the phone she adored “face-timing.” Faith would always end calls by giving him a “kiss” which, in all good manners he would need to return, with great enthusiasm.

Then Faith would invariably say, “now Mama!” and insist he do the same with Claire. His antics never failed to make her laugh and Claire smile. Jamie found himself oddly comforted by it, knowing that no matter what stressors and difficulties Claire had faced at work, at the end of the day, he put a smile on her face.

His favorite times by far though occurred when their schedules aligned and the three of them could have dinner together. In the quiet domesticity of her cozy kitchen they became accustomed to one another, in the small acts of setting table, passing bread, doing dishes. Jamie would always stay and help Faith with her pjs and put her to bed.

Claire looked forward to such evenings as well. She tried to be discrete as she watched from the doorway. She knew he didn’t mind her there but she wanted to give Jamie as much time with Faith as possible, trying her best to make up for the missing months between father and daughter. Not because it was her fault, but because had the situation been reversed, she understood how that loss would make her feel and what might help her make peace with it.

Whether Jamie told a tale from his own childhood or Faith picked out a book from her shelf, he was always entertaining.  He had a lovely ear for dialogue and the characters sprung to life whenever he told a story.

Then he and Faith would play a quick round of modified “I Spy.” A simple way to teach her Gaelic. Each would go around the room and point to something and say the English world and then the Gaelic one, taking turns. The furniture, the stuffed animals, the images on artwork lining the walls. If Claire was still in the doorway, Jamie would usually include Claire in the game.

Every time he pointed to Claire, Faith would say Mama, but then when he would point to himself she just giggled or shrugged. This was an oddity not even Claire could explain. They’d given her lots of choices: Pa, Papa, Dada, Daddy, Dad, even Father but she refused to be rushed. He did his best not to feel a little disappointed. Ah, well, give it time, he would remind himself.

Jamie would kiss her forehead and whisper good night. Often, afterwards he and Claire would sit together for a little while before he left, sharing some wine and talking of things Faith related and of their own days as well.

Jamie came to understand how challenging her job was, how deeply she cared for her patients. He began to read her better, to know when something was bothering her. She had a terrible poker face but he was impressed that she would set such matters aside when she was with Faith. He understood without asking that Claire didn’t normally unburden herself. Jamie didn’t think she let too many people close to her heart. He didn’t mind in the least that he was becoming one of those few.

The only fly in the ointment thus far had been the unavoidable fact that Claire was a toucher, reaching her arm out when wanting to get his or Faith’s attention. She was also a hugger. She would sometimes give him a sweet kiss on the check in hello or good bye. He thought it must just come naturally to her and she probably had no idea she was even doing it at all, let alone with deliberation.

When they would sit together, he noticed how expressive she was with her hands, they’d roll out or curve up, accenting her story. Every now and then she would catch him staring at them and smile in question. What could he say?

I look at your hands because I imagine how they might feel on me? My mouth goes dry thinking of how you held my hand the other day when we walked with Faith to the car but you didn’t even realize you’d done it?

When you hug me as we laugh helplessly about something Faith did that day, you have no idea how much I want to pull you tighter in my arms, how badly I want you to do it again. Have you not noticed that I always let you determine how closely we are held together and for how long?

That you’ve set me on fire and I have to curl my hand into a fist and bite my tongue to stop myself from showing you exactly what I want those hands to do next?

Jamie said nothing, of course and yet…yet something got stuck between his heart and his mouth at such moments and he wondered if she felt it too.

Morgan Rielly- Lock Screen

Request: Could you please write a Morgan Rielly imagine?? Something super fluffy. Maybe meeting the team and the WAGS for the first time and the boys kinda embarrass him a bit? Thank you!

Authors note: of course! Sorry for the wait!

“Come on, please! I already promised them you would go!” My boyfriend of ten months Morgan says, well pleads. As he leans against the kitchen island.

“No. No way. Not gonna happen. I’m not ready to meet your team! Let alone your team and there wives and girlfriends!” I exclaim, pushing my self off the counter walking out of the kitchen.

“Pleeeeeaaasssseeeee.” Morgan drags out. Grabbing my waist.

“Noooooooo” I say back tapping him on the nose. Then starting to walk away.

My effort ended up only being in vain though because Morgan decided to pick me up and carry me to the living room.

As he lays me on the couch he gently sits on my waist. He gives me a wicked grin before tickling me.

“Mo-morg-Morgan! S-St-op” I yell. Thrashing and laughing.

“Not till you promise to come to the dinner with me.” He says moving his fingers quicker on my now exposed skin.

“F-ine.” I give in laughing.

Little did Morgan know or remember. I like to get him back for that.

“Thank you!” He exclaims. Grabbing my face and kissing me deeply.

“Mo.” I say pushing him up.

“Yeah babe?” Morgan asks looking somewhat hurt but also as if he just got challenged.

“No.” I say, wiggling out from under him.

“Why?” He asks pulling me on his lap. His arms wrapping around my waist.

“I need to get ready. Is it dressy or casual?” I ask rubbing his cheek with my thumb.

“Bon fire Casual.” He says, starting to lean in.

“Okay, see you soon.” I reply abruptly getting up.

“Not funny!” Morgan shouts as I run up the stairs.

When I get to the room I quickly show and find casual clothes.

I settle for a nice yet casual red and black plaid button up, with a white v-neck t-shirt underneath. I also wore a pair of dark wash blue jeans. I paired that with my maroon vans.

Then I styled my hair, so it looked casual but not messy by any means.

“Babe, are you-” Morgan said coming up the stairs.

“Im not changing clothes.” We both say at the same time.

We had both dressed in red and black button up with a white shirt and dark wash jeans along with maroon shoes.

“We are gonna be late lets just go.”

“Mo’s whipped!” One of the guys yelled as we walk onto the backyard of one of the guys houses. There a giant fire pit in the middle. All of the guys and some of the girls to crowd around us when the notice of Mo being relationship ‘whipped’ was announced.

“Am not. Right babe?” Morgan says like a child.

“Well….” I drag out teasingly making Morgan roll his eyes.

“I like her already.” Connor says with a laugh.

“Mine.” Morgan says hugging me close to him.

“Awwww…..look at little Morgan. He so whipped.” Another one of the guys teased.

“At least we now know the face to the name. Not that Mo doesn’t already have you as his lock screen and screen saver. But now we can physically put a face to the name.” Freddie says causing Mo to blush a deep shade of red.

“Alright guys. So, what’s for dinner?” Morgan asks trying to change the subject.

“Do you walk on water cause Mo seems to think you can.” Auston teases.

“No, against Mo’s belief I do not walk on water.” I reply with a giggle.

“Really guys.” Morgan groans his blush reappearing in his face and ears. It’s also slowly showing on his neck.

“I can’t wait for you guys to be out of the honey moon stage. All we hear is “she did this” and “she did that” and “she’s so great at this.” I feel likeI know you on a personal level with how much he drowns on about you.“ Jake says trying to imitate Morgans voice.

“So, did you guys get stuff to make s'mores?” Morgan asks again trying to change the subject.

“Oooh s'mores.” I say trying to help Morgan.

Through out the rest of the night we ate s'mores and got teased for the whole matching thing.

“So, I’m your screen saver and your lock screen?” I tease as Mo and I get into bed.

“Uggggh.” Morgan groans, shoving his face into his pillow.

“Am I?” I ask turning out the light.

“Yes.” Morgan says. His arms wrapping around my waist so we are spooning.

“That’s really sweet, Rielly. Your my lock screen too and my screen saver.”

“why thank you, future Mrs.Rielly” Morgan says snuggling closer to me.


“I said I love you.” Morgan covers.

“Oh, I love you too, mo.” I play along. Falling asleep with a smile on my face.

Make a Choice

Summary:  Your boyfriend Chase has become power hungry and you give him a choice.  His lust for power or his love for you?
Words: 2,119
Warnings:  Unprotected sex, language, fighting, and um thats it I think.
A/N:  I had a hard time with this story so I’m sorry if it’s terrible.  I tried really hard and hope that you like it! Let me know what you think. Shout out to @bucky-plums-barnes  @sebastianstancanfightme @buckysglow and @poe-also-bucky for helping me with ideas! Happy Late Halloween!

Originally posted by injectablefame712

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You, Me, Us (Part I)

Mystic Messenger Angst Fic

You, Me, Us: Part II | Part III | Part IV | FINALE | Es&Es


  • Minor spoilers for Zen’s After Ending and Seven Route
  • Trigger warnings (emotional abuse, mentions of death and hints at suicidal ideation)

“We are each other’s mirrors and our paths.” 

His words stayed even when you’ve lost yours.

It’s been two years since you agreed to become Zen’s manager. You watched him shine brighter by the day and take the whole world by surprise. He was a well-known musical actor now with international offers coming left and right. 

You were happy for him. You really were. But there was something fundamentally wrong. It’s been wrong for a while now, but you were powerless to fix any of it. 

“MC, where’s my gray shirt?” Zen called from your room. 

Crap. “It’s in the laundry, Zen. It’s been raining the past few days and I couldn’t just stick it in the dryer!”

Thud, thud, thud. Here we go. 

“I told you I needed that shirt today,” Zen growled as he came into the dining room wearing a different gray shirt. “The fans say I look best in it.”

You try a laugh. “You look best in everything, Zenny?”

He made a sour face. “Your opinion is different.” 

He might as well have said that your opinion didn’t matter. Still, forcing a smile, you served him his breakfast. Zen didn’t even think to wait for you to sit before he gobbled up his breakfast. 

Feeling awkward just standing there watching him eat, you decide to go prepare to pack his lunch.

“Ah, I don’t need it today. I’m having lunch with the director.” Zen called without looking at you. 

Disappointment sat at the pit of your stomach. “Oh. I didn’t hear about that.”

Zen’s fork stopped midway. “The director told me directly.”

You decide to laugh. “What’s the use of a manager, then?”

You startled at the sound of a metal hitting ceramic and turned to see Zen glaring at you from the table. “I don’t appreciate your sarcasm, MC. And just because you’re my manager doesn’t mean I have to tell you everything.”

You knew you should speak. You hated mornings that started like this. They tend to lead to you falling asleep while waiting for him to come home. Like always, words didn’t come. You only nod and smile. “I’m sorry.” 

“MC!” Jaehee greeted as you walked into her cafe. It was flourishing! It’s only been a few months shy of a year since she quit Jumin’s company and she looked a lot happier than you were. 

“Sorry for taking your break like this,” You tell her, though it was hard to be sincere while knowing you really missed having Jaehee around. 

Jaehee laughs at the formality. “It has been a while since we’ve seen each other. This is nothing. Still busy are you? I’ve seen Zen’s posters at least twenty times this morning.”

You laugh when you’re supposed to. “Zen’s busy. I mostly stay home now.”

Jaehee noted the change in your voice. “What happened to being his manager?”

You shrug, trying for playful. “It doesn’t matter, I guess? It’s been going out of my hands anyway. He needs a better manager. One he could actually have on set.”

After working 4 years under the stoic Jumin Han, Jaehee had learned to read people. It was more than instinct that told her there was something worse going on in MC’s head. 

“MC, Zen works til late and leaves early in the morning.” She begins to say, not knowing how else to approach this situation. “What do you do then if you can’t meet any of us in the RFA?”

Jaehee watched your face freeze. For a minute, she could have sworn the serene expression on your face faltered, but it was gone soon as it came. 

“Well. I prepare his schedule, mostly. Adjust his meals according to the activities he’d need to do that day. It takes a considerable amount of time to clean a basement apartment too. And Zen has a lot of clothes so-”

Boisterous laughter cut you off and Jaehee glanced behind you to see girls with makeup thicker than Jumin’s files and shirts with Zen’s name on them laughing at volumes unfit for a cafe. 

“So you’re basically his maid?” One called and your blood froze. “You cook, you wash, you clean and wait. How is that different from a housemaid?”

Don’t mind them, don’t mind them, don’t mind them, don’t mind them .

But they most certainly mind you. Soon the three girls were passing by you, bags hitting the side of your shoulder as they laughed. 

“Talk about falling from grace.” One snickered and you felt sick to your stomach. 

Jaehee, on the other hand, was more than ready to pour coffee down their shirts. “How dare they?” 

When she turned back to you, she almost thought she’d imagined the whole thing as your face was already the picture of calm. You lightheartedly told her you were fine and that you were used to that sort of treatment, but Jaehee knew better than to believe you. 

A call came and soon you excused yourself, smiling and telling Jaehee you’d come visit again. The ex-assistant agreed and asked you to do so soon. Watching you go, she desperately wished you soon would. 

Because she knew what masks were, she just never thought she’d see one on you. 

“MC, would you mind bringing my script to the studio? I’d brought the wrong one.” His stress was palpable. “The director suddenly asked to rehearse a different scene and change the blockings.”

Your heart fluttered. You were going to see him act again! 

“Sure, I’ll be there in a few minutes.” You chirped. 

“Yeah, thanks.” 

You opened your mouth to say I love you, but he’d already hung up. 

So. Why did it end up like this? 

Cameras flashed left and right, screams and whines from either side. You almost wanted to cover your ears and close your eyes. 

Zen had kissed Echo Girl at rehearsal, and apparently headlines were already being made, with you forgotten and tucked a the corner. In your mind, you knew he would immediately come to you and apologize. You would then tell him it’s okay, that it’s his job. 

But. He. Doesn’t. He only inclined his head to catch your stare and you smile at him. He doesn’t smile back. 

Whispers met your ears almost immediately. 

The girlfriend. / She’s here? / She hasn’t been here a long time. / I thought for sure they’d broken up. / He didn’t go apologize. / Does that mean they’re over?

Familiar voices berate you next. “She doesn’t even get mad. Well housemaids always obey their employers. I suppose she doesn’t have the right.” 

I shouldn’t have come.

The director calls for a break and you stand to give Zen lunch, but then you remember that he’s having eating with the director today. Now you just felt stupid, standing there as fans swarmed your boyfriend. 

They part like water for Moses when Echo Girl comes, though. She latched onto his side. Zen let out a sigh after a meager attempt to get her off and gives up. 

You find your voice then. “Zen.”

All eyes turn to you, but all that mattered were the ruby-red ones that were once warm like the hearth. Now they were ice cold. 

“Does she not know we’re eating with the director?” Echo Girl’s voice was poison to your ears. 

We’re. So it wasn’t a one-on-one with the director. You should’ve known. Zen worked day and night to get up on this new stage. Echo Girl or none, he would make pleasing the director his top priority.

“I told her this morning.” No, you didn’t. His eyes beg you not to ruin this for him. “She’ll understand. Won’t you, babe?” 

No, I won’t. But he’s convinced you would and walks out with her anyway. 

“Mint flavor.” Saeran says as he hands you a cup of ice cream. He then sat across from you. 

“Thank you, Saeran.” You say and he huffs in response. He continues to stare at you as you slowly eat. 

You’d bumped to each other quite literally while you were running out of that cursed building. He’d started working at an ice cream parlor, he’d said, and that he was just out on a break. 

“Are you going to tell me what happened?” He spoke quietly. 

You answered with a smile. He rolled his eyes. “Where is Saeyoung?”

A red eyebrow rose. “You don’t answer mine and you expect me to answer yours?”

You feel a lighthearted laugh bubble from inside you. “It makes me happy to see you so sociable, Saeran.”

His cheeks turn red as his hair at that. He’s silent after that and you wonder if you’ve said something wrong. 

“It’s not easy. Not yet, anyway. I can barely say two sentences to strangers.” He says with a shrug. 

You feel yourself smiling again. “Baby steps, Sae. Baby steps.” 

“So? Are you going to keep avoiding telling me what happened?” You hear him say but the world was already starting to black out. 

“You’ll find out,” You manage to weakly say. 

Hard footsteps meet Saeran’s ears and he turns to see MC’s boyfriend, Zen, stalking towards them. 

“WHY DID YOU HAVE TO DO THAT MC?” He yelled so loudly, the children in the shop started to leave. “DID YOU HAVE TO MAKE SUCH A SCENE?”


“Zen-” Your voice is small. And you wish you grew smaller. 

“DON’T!” He roared, palm slamming over the table. “Don’t even make excuses at this point, MC. You know how important this job is too me.”

“Good for your job, then. At least that’s important to you.” Saeran’s murderous voice cuts Zen’s outburst into two. 

He’d stayed quiet hoping MC would scream right back at the sorry son of a bitch. But whatever he believed was a heart tore apart at the face MC had pulled. 

“Saeran.” Zen was still seething. “Sorry. Can I talk to my girlfriend for a sec?”

“She’s your girlfriend? I thought she was just some dumb bitch from the way you were yelling at her.” Saeran spat. 

Zen was about ready to start a fight, but you couldn’t afford for that to happen. And Saeran was being your friend. He didn’t deserve to be caught between you like this. 

“Zen,” You say. “Let’s talk when we get home, okay?”

It took moments before Zen answered. “You go on ahead. I still have rehearsals.” Was all he said before storming out as destructively as he walked in.

You turned to Saeran, ready to apologize for the customers they’d lost. He simply nodded, even when you excused yourself to go to the restroom. That was, until he remembered there was no restroom here, only small a washing area tucked by the corner, one he could see from here. 

As you left, Saeran couldn’t help but ask his brother to keep an eye on you. He had to stop himself from following you to your apartment too, just in case you decided on something stupid. 

He’d seen the face you made as Zen yelled at you. He’d seen the way your tears halted, the way your face blanked and your shoulders stopped shaking altogether from the mirror’s reflection on the glass pane. 

He’d spent 21 years of his life that way. He couldn’t bear seeing you do the same.

Zen came home smelling like smoke and beer. He couldn’t look more annoyed to see you waiting up for him if he tried.

“You promised to quit smoking.” The words were barely out of your mouth and immediately you regret saying them.

A crash. Then another one. Two of the vases Jumin had given you were now a broken pieces on the floor and you thought you’d rather count them all than go through this allover again.

“You have no right to snap at me, MC.” Zen’s voice was dangerously low as he paced the living room floor.

“You were the one who almost lost me my job.” You meet his accusing stare and open your mouth to speak, only to be cut off.

“Do you know what the director said? He said you were pitiful. He said I never should have brought you on set if I was going to treat you like that.” His voice grew louder as his anger explodes. “Do you know how humiliating that was?”

Did he know how humiliating the whole debacle was for you?

“See? You’re doing it again.”

Your head snapped up to see him staring at you with something like disgust.

“You say nothing. Making everyone pity you, like you’re such a good girl and I’m the big bad boyfriend.”


“Jaehee messaged me, didn’t you know? She asked me if you were alright, because you were apparently so off when you met earlier.” His voice grows deeper as he moves closer to you.

What is he saying?

“Do you like playing victim, MC?” Zen was now in front of you, something dark you never thought you’d see gleaming in his eyes. His clothes reeked of alcohol and things stronger than that. It made you feel dizzy. “Do you like blaming other people for your issues?”

What is he talking about?

Victim? Blaming? Issues?

“Is this because I’m so busy now? Is it because you think I’m so out of reach that you have to stay so silent and resort to such ways to get my attention back?”

Silence? But silence was all you knew. If he didn’t want your silence…

Then what was left for you?

“Well, here I am! You’ve succeeded! Now talk, MC!” Your whole being shook as he grabbed a hold of your shoulders, almost pulling you up to stand in the process. 

“Zen-!” You sqeak. 

It’s hard to breathe. I can’t breathe.

“Tell me, MC! What exactly is the problem?! What happened to you?!” He was yelling now, and his voice rings in your ears. “What happened, huh? What exactly is the problem?!”

“Zen!” You scream and push him away. “Please. Please, just calm down.”

Your hands over your ears, you bite back tears as you cautiously step away from him. “Please, calm down, Zen. W-We can talk once you’re sober so-!

Another crash as an another ornament explodes into a thousand pieces. “TELL ME WHAT THE FUCK HAPPENED, MC?”He roared. “What happened to you? You were always so bright, so kind and supportive. God, I thought you were an angel when we met!”

In seconds, he was in front of you again, voice reverberating in your head. You can’t breathe. The world closes in and you fall to the floor, curling into yourself as your head tucks into your knees.

Stop. Stop. Stop. Stop. Stop. Stop. Stop.

“Oh my God! Look at you right now! Are you trying to tell me that this is what I’ve done to you? That I’ve destroyed you so much that you can’t even tell me what I’ve done?” 

Don’t. Please. No more. Please. Please. Please.

“MC LOOK AT ME!” His hands yank your wrists apart. “You can’t even look at me anymore? Do you think I’m disgusting now, too?” His voice breaks and you somehow find it in you to speak.

“No, Zen. I could never-!” 

“If it’s not my fault, then is it yours?” He says, eyes crazed. “Is it your fault then? That you’ve become like this?”

“No.” You could barely hear yourself say it.

“Then whose fault is it then? If it’s not me, and it’s not you, then who?” 

Us.” You say through your river of tears, hitching breaths and rattling chest. “Zen, it’s usWe’re the problem.”

Zen starts to retaliate, but you weren’t done. Not yet. While your words were free and his ears were open, you would speak.

“Do you really not understand what’s happening to us, Zen?” The hands on your wrists loosen a fraction. “Or is it that you don’t even understand what us means anymore?”

For a few moments, everything is silent. In front of you was the man you loved with all your heart, but also the man you hated most. But still you knew that Zen was not what destroyed you. You let him. And so, to blame was not him, not you. But what exists between you.

You pray that he understands, that even through his alcohol addled-brain, Zen would hear you. You prayed that the man you’d loved still lived, that he would come save you.

He didn’t.

The man in front of you begins to bellow in rage, yelling through your cries with words you once thought were foreign to him.

You see the man you loved die right in front of you, slowly, agonizingly, piece by piece. His existence spots with black and whatever he was before the day we became you and me, was lost to you.

“We are each other’s mirrors and our paths.” His words back then had stayed even when you’ve lost yours. 

But Zen, what should I do? When neither I, nor you, knows where ‘we’ has gone to?

Everything grows silent and your tears stop, too. Did he stop? You couldn’t know.

You couldn’t hear him anymore. The dead couldn’t speak.

Slowly, his fingers uncurl, and a tremor rocks his body. You think it’s over. As your arms drop to your side, you wonder if you should speak.

You didn’t. The dead couldn’t hear.

So you simply walk past him. Your eyes are tired, but tears no longer blur anything. Were you finally run dry?

Your phone rings by the bedside table, Saeyoung’s name lighting up the screen. The ringing ceased and you noted three-digit number of missed calls from either of the twins before you chucked your phone out the window.

“MC!” Zen’s booming voice makes you shrivel in fear. He runs to the window to check, but you no longer found it in you to care. 

“Where are you going?” His voice reaches you again. It cracks. He’s sober. You wonder if Zen’s back, too– the Zen who promised forever, the Zen who called you his sun, his moon, his stars.

But still you continue to pack, his protests now just a buzz in the back of your head. You blink and a cab slows in front of you. You move to open the door, but Zen slams it shut.

You may be deaf and mute, but you were not blind. Zen’s red eyes were very much alive with the emotion that had been missing for months. Regret had space in there too.

But then the shutters close and pain radiates from the marks on your wrists.

He sees something in your eyes. It terrifies him, breaks him, kills him to, but he steps aside and soon you tell the driver to drive.

Zen is dead. And the dead cannot come back to life.  

A/N: hey hey hey~

That… was long. I didn’t expect for this fic to even have two parts, I originally planned to create one-shot but my angst meter just hasn’t had enough. 

Thank you for reading!

Bookworm Race x Reader

Summary: While you’re trying to read and walk at the same time, you bump into a newsie who you wouldn’t peg as the bookworm type.

Word count: 1.7k

Author’s note: this is my first newsie x reader so sorry if it’s pretty trash. I’m taking requests though so if you would like to request something, only newsies for now, I’d be happy to hear it!

warning: Nothing really except I do spoil the ending on A Tale of Two Cities so if you are currently reading that book or plan to in the near future, I suggest you don’t read this but it’s just a fair warning!

“Sadly, sadly, the sun rose, it rose upon no sadder sight than the man of good abilities and good emotions, incapable of their directed exercise, incapable of his own help and his own happiness, sensible of the blight on him, and resigning himself to let it eat him away.”

You flipped over to the next page, feeling your heart ache for poor old Sydney Carton as you made your way through the busy town. Sounds were coming from every direction, the shouts of the newsboys, the horns blaring from the street, but all those noises were somehow fading away as you sunk deeper and deeper into the emotional pit known as Tale of Two Cities.

People pushed past you, not enough to knock you off your feet or for you to pry your eyes away from the words on the page. You mutter a soft sorry as you continue to make your way down the sidewalk.

Manhattan in October was your favorite month to stroll the streets, the blazing heat from summer was finally over and it wasn’t too cold to the point of discomfort. The walk from the bookstore to your home was insanely long by foot but you didn’t care about the blisters on your feet, all you cared about was the book in your hands, this story forming in front of you with your own eyes, something more entertaining than the world around you.

“It was a cool spot, staid but cheerful, a wonderful place for echoes, and a very harbour from the raging streets. There ought to have-”

You make contact with something, someone, as you stumble back and the book falls from your hands and onto the stone sidewalk. You and the victim you bumped into start stammering a few words.

“Sorry! I wasn’t-”

“Crap I’m sorry doll-”

“No it’s fine I-”

“Here let me-”

You bend down to pick up your book but the young man you bumped into is already picking it up and taking a look at the cover. You take in his appearance as he reads the back of the book, a cigar hanging between his teeth while a smirk plays on his lips. He catches you staring at him as you clear your throat and play with your fingers.

Boy was he attractive. He was a newsboy, that or he carried around newspapers in a cloth bag just for fun and dressed like one because why not. The boys at school never caught your attention, all of your love was towards Charles Dickens, Emily Bronte, and occasionally Shakespeare when you were feeling angsty but this boy. Ohhhhhh this boy was a sight for sore eyes.

“Thanks I uh wasn’t paying attention,” You admit as you point over to the book that caused you to bump into the cute stranger.

“I get it, lots a’ distractions out heres,” The boy winks as I take in his very thick, almost fake sounding Manhattan accent.

The wink causes your ears and cheeks to go red but you try, key word try, to brush it off,“ Y-Yeah lots of distractions. Sorry but… could I possibly get my book back?”

The newsboy lets out a small laugh and nods, handing it over to you,“ Do yous have a name? I wanna tell my friends about bumping into this smart, beautiful goirl on the street today and a name would be nice.”

You blush but again try not to let his words affect you,“ You assume I’m smart just cause I’m reading a book?”

“No moron woulds be able to get almost halfway through a Dicken’s novel. Either yous like the love triangle between Darnay, Carton and Lucie or yous enjoy all the death and destruction.”

You’re slightly taken aback by his comment since he couldn’t have known who the characters are without reading at least a part of the book. Most newsies knew how to read a bit but since Dicken’s was kind of a…well… dick about using pretty big words and complicated sentences, it was unlikely that even an average people knew what he was saying.

“You’ve read this book?”

“My uh friend, he’s a big nerd, always reads out loud whenever he can. It’s a good book though, says a lot since I hate reading,” the boy extends his hand out for me to shake,“ My friends call me Race.”

You shake his hand,“ Y/N. Nice to meet you.”

Race repeats your name and you secretly love the way it sounds with his voice. You try to stall as long as possible so you can keep talking with him but you know you have to go home soon because a) you know your mom is freaking out because of your absence and b) you’re starting to get a little anxious because you want to get home as quickly as possible to finish the book.

You rummage in your bag for a dime and hand it to him,“ One pape please.”

Race shakes his head and hands you a newspaper,“ No please, it’s on the house.”

You give him a genuine smile, sweet, charming, and good looking? I must be dreaming since all the boys I know are pigs.

“No, after all I’ve done today, it’s the least I can do.”

You slip the dime into his shirt pocket and you take the paper from his hands and read the headline, Trolley Strike comes to a Second Week.

“It’s boring I know, but maybe yous can come back here tomorrow and I’ll give ya a better headline,” Race flirts, his lips turning into a small smirk.

Tomorrow you had school but you knew sparing a few minutes during lunch to come down here would be totally worth it as long as you got to see the cute newsboy again.

“I’ll see you tomorrow then, until next time Race.”


You stroll, oh no. Maybe the word stroll seems too happy, you stomped down the street, gripping A Tale Of Two Cities in between your hands, your knuckles almost turning white and your tears are still fresh on your cheeks.

You take your usual route to buy Race’s paper, something you’ve been doing for the past week or so but today was different. Today Charles freakin Dickens ripped your heart out, stomped on it, and stuck it in a guilloutine.

Every day you would visit Race and talk about what part you were on in the book and you both shared an intense love for Carton, a character who deserved so much more in life. Since you two bonded so quickly over the course of a few days, it was no surprise that you had caught feelings for the newsie with a smoke and aftershave smell lingering on his body who also was the biggest dork in the entire city.

It felt stupid, how quickly you fell head over heels for this boy who saw you as just another customer, but being alone with him, sharing embarrassing stories and how much the two of you hated Oscar Delancey, a man who was very close with your father made you realize that you two had more in common than you thought.

You can hear Race’s voice, calling out a headline about the yet again, boring trolley strike that just reached week number three and he stops midway when he catches sight of you, looking quite miserable.

Race’s friend Davey had read the book to him before, so Race knew exactly why you were so upset and that you were about to go off on a huge rant.

“How could he do that? Seriously? What kind of sicko just kills off a character as pure as Carton and-and his last thoughts were of Luice like- my heart can’t handle this emotional distress I-I think you have to take me to a hospital because my heart feels like it’s going to explode and not in the good way! I was rooting for Lucie and Carton what kind of bullsh-”

Race places one hand on your cheek and the other on your waist and before you can say anything, he leans in as you two share a long, but innocent kiss.

He pulls apart first as a huge grin dances on his lips and says in a teasing tone,“ Sorry, what was yous sayin?”

Your mouth is partly open, due to the shock of the kiss and how nonchalant that boy was being. A part of you was slightly annoyed that he just kissed you in the middle of your rant but all the anger and sadness you had just experienced while finishing the book suddenly washed away.

“Y-You can’t do that! I was trying….” you lose your train of thought and sigh in desperation, giving up. Now you were just confused and when you were confused, you needed answers as soon as possible before your brain would go wild,“ what was that for?”

“Sorry but- Yous cute when yous angry and I know yous upset about the book but just know that-”

You pull on the collar of his shirt and kiss him again, not wanting to hear the “oh it’s just a book speech” you had received from your fellow classmates and you could’ve sworn you heard him let out a small gasp before crashing your lips onto his.

You pull away and you two share the same goofy smile.

“What was that for?” He asks as you give him a small shrug.

“ Just felt like it…anyway here’s a dime, I would love to hear about this boring ol trolley strike again.”

Race wraps his hand around your waist and places a kiss on your cheek,“ Who knows doll, maybe somethin interstin is gonna happen soon that’ll make headlines.”

Essays in Existentialism, Vigilante II

I really liked your vigilante au prompt! could you write something similar(still lexa the injured vigilante) but she and clarke are already together?

Previously on VIGILANTE

“What did you do?” 

“Nothing,” Lexa shrugged and tried the smirk. “I haven’t done anything. Can’t I just get a pretty girl some pretty flowers?” 

Shy and guilty, Lexa half hid behind the bouquet of Clarke’s favorites, a shield of sorts to protect her from the inevitable. It’d been effective in the past, though she understood the day would come when it’d become old hat. 

“You left in the middle of the night and it’s been three days.”

“Something came up. Can I come in?” 

Keep reading

War of Love (Lafayette x Reader) Part 4

Words: 2541

Tags: @unprofessional-inhumanbeing @fandomsinabookshelf @pearltheartist

Warnings: Drunk, nakedness, poorly translated French

Previous Chapter // Next Chapter

They all cheered, and threw more and more drinks at you. Soon, your vision was blurred and you could barely stare at any of them straight. You blinked slowly, your eyes widening. Mulligan was resting his face on the table, barely moving. You pushed him, and he shot up, looking around quickly. Hamilton laughed at your antics, and stood up.

“I may not live to see our glory!” He started, staring at all of you. Lafayette, Mulligan, and Laurens joined in on his song.

“I may not live to see our glory!” They said.

“But I will gladly join the fight!” Hamilton yelled, standing on the bench.

“But I will gladly join the fight!”

“And when our children tell our story…” Hamilton’s eyes were glassed over, as if he was actually considering his future. He looked at Laurens, a sad look appearing on his face. The other three didn’t seem to take notice of this.

Keep reading

BatFam X Reader “New Family” Part 5

Part 1, Part 2, Part 3, Part 4


When you wake up you are not sure where you are, but then it all comes back. Everything. You confronting Red Hood on the roof, blacking out, and then coming here. Wherever here was. As you lay there you remember your panic attack. Everything that you had said and you had said it to a stranger. You weren’t sure but you thought that the Red Hood had been in the room with you. If you were right about that then not only were you in the headquarters of the Batman but you had also revealed your past.

All that time hiding was over. If the Batman was as good as Mack said he was then he must already know who she was and if not then he knew enough.

A door swishes open and you turn to see Red Hood coming in. Well for now that confirmed you suspicion about Batman.

“You’re awake,” He states. “Thirsty?”

He hold out a glass of water towards you. You nod and take a sip of water. You roll the water in your mouth before spitting it back in the glass.

“Why did you do that?”

You stare at him as you say. “I don’t take drinks or food from people who use a voice modificator or from people who I can not see their face.” You grimace at the glass of water. “And the water might be drugged.” You pause for a beat before politely saying. “Thank you.”

The Red Hood just stands there. You are pretty sure that he is staring at you. You wait for him to speak, but he doesn’t he just stands there.

“Well? Is there a reason for you being here besides delivering this glass of water?”

“Ah, no. I was told to check in on you and see how you were doing.”

“Well you have checked in and I am doing fine. I think the Joker Venom is out of me system.”

“You knew that it was Joker Venom? How?”

You glare back at him. “I just know and if you don’t know then you don’t need to know. Although I bet Batman knows.” He doesn’t say anything. “Am I right?”

“I don’t know. Though he doesn’t really share everything that he knows with everyone else.”

“Then I shouldn’t be talking to you.” You pause. “How long do I need to be here?”

“I’m not sure,” He answered. You thought that you might have heard a bit of gruffness, but with that voice modifier it was hard to tell. “Penny one would know.”

“Penny One?” You give a snort. “I know his name is Alfred. I remember someone saying his name when I was…” You give a thought before finding the right word. “Disabled.”

“You remember that do you? Well then maybe you can answer some questions that we might have.”

“Like I said before I do not trust anyone with voice modifiers and who have to hide their identity. I don’t know anything about you, let alone trust you with my secrets.”

Red Hood stands there. You hate that you can’t tell what he is thinking with that helmet on. Not. One. Bit. Red Hood turns and leaves the was he came in without another word.

You turn your head on your pillow and close your eyes to think. Even though it might have seemed like a fruitless conversation you had learned a few things:

1. It had been Joker Venom.

2.You were in the headquarters of batman

3. Batman wasn’t telling the Red Hood what he knew.

The last part puzzled you to know end. Why hadn’t Batman shared what he knew with Red Hood? Did he not trust him? Or did he just want to keep this information to himself?

Your fingers itch for a keyboard so that you can type. At that you bolt up right WORK! You had to be at work! Today you were going to be testing the fixing the bugs in your GPS system. If you were late then one of her coworkers or god forbid an intern would be testing it out. Thought of someone touching and playing around with your code made you sick. You needed to get out of here and get to work. Batman be dammed.

Pulling off the covers of the bed and you were in you notice that you are in cotton night gown. How had you not noticed this before? And where were the clothes that she had been wearing before?

The door slide open once more. You turn to say something snarky to the Red Hood only to to see the man coming was Alfred. In his arms are your clothes.

“Good afternoon, Miss Y/L. I hope you don’t mind, but I took the liberty of washing your clothes.”

“Um thanks. Wait did you say afternoon? How long was I out?”

“A day and a half, Miss.”

“What?” You had missed a day of work? And not only that, but you were now late for work as well. If anyone had even touched your codes, let alone your computer…

“If you are worried about your work you don’t need to worry. I took the liberty of saying that you had a family emergency and I you couldn’t come in.”

A family emergency? That was rich, considering that you didn’t have a family.

Alfred continued on saying, “Master Fox is a good friend and said that you need not worry about the trials on the GPS system. He mentioned something about being ahead of schedule and that the testing could wait.”

That was a relief. No one would be touching her codes any time soon.

“Thank you, Alfred.”

The old butler smiled warmly at her and handed her freshly washed clothes to her. “I will leave you to get dressed.”

Turning your back you begin to change your clothes. The familiar feel of your shirts and pants are a small comfort. Turning towards the door that Alfred had walked through you wonder if the door is locked or not. It isn’t the door slide open with no problem. You take a wary step out of the room and into what looks like a large cavern. Looking around you are amazed, but not as amazed as you see a gloriously large computer. It is magnificent with its high definition screen, custom keyboard, and ohh it felt like a dream! Though as you study the screen you see what it is doing. It has several files open with is automatically sorting through and at the same time facial recognition program is going. And it is searching for you.

“Nice computer isn’t.” Whirling around you come face to face with Bruce Wayne. Your jaw goes slack. Things start clicking into place. Bruce Wayne is Batman. You shake your head and resume your confident stance.

“Yes,” You answer. “She is a beauty. Now let’s stop beating around the bush. What do you want?”

Mr. Wayne stares at you in shock that you had been so direct with him.You give him a little smirk. It is fun to catch him off guard.

“What do I want?”

“Yes, I’m guessing that before all of this mess you wanted something from me. Though I will say that I am surprised that you found out real Identity.”

“I didn’t know who you really were until you were shot. I still don’t know who you are. All that I have found from your files and name is this.”

Mr. Wayne walks past you towards the computer. He presses a key and then a news article the headline says “Gotham CEO Is Found Murdered With Daughter”. You have seen this article and you have read it, over and over again. This time though it seems like you are reading it for the first time. Tears start to stream down your face.

“You took her identity. That girl. Why?”

You take a deep breath and decide to start at the beginning…


Author’s Note:

I would like to apologize about how long this has taken me to write. Sorry :-(

Also Part 6 will be a flashback and will answer most of the mystery that has been surrounding our character. I am really excited about what the next part will bring.

Please like this so that I will know that you read it and enjoyed it.

Junhoe Smut


Member: Junhoe (obvi bc of the title)

A/N&Warning: Ok so someone askes for a Kinky Junhoe Smut, this is what I came up with. Daddy kink, hair pulling, ass slapping (idk if I need to say that, but might as well) And I think that’s it. Sorry if this sucks, I’m still new to smut writitng.

If you don’t like smut, don’t read this because it’s definitely smut.

Originally posted by ikonoteven

You were waiting impatiently in Junhoe’s room, waiting for him and his bandmates to return from the studio. You were wearing nothing but your underwear and one of Junhoe’s oversized shirts. You wrapped yourself in his blankets, the scent of his Old Spice body wash still lingering on them. You groaned wishing you had him there instead. You soon heard the door of the dorm open, the boys quietly walked to their rooms thinking you were asleep.

You rolled over, your back to the door, removing the blankets, hiking up the shirt a bit exposing your legs, just as Junhoe opened the door. You heard him chuckle a bit as he set his bags down then quickly changing. The bed sunk a bit as Junhoe climbed in next to you. He wrapped his arms around your waist, pulling you closer to him. You turned around to face him as he let out a yawn. “Fun practice?” He smiled. “Of course, I love going over the same move 500 times until I wanna puke.” You laughed messing with his hair. “Sounds like you need to relax?” You bit your lip running your hands down his chest.

“Babe, I want to, but I’m just too tired. Not tonight.” He moved your hands and tried to go to sleep. “Please babe? I’ve been waiting all night.” You kissed his neck as you slid one hand down to the front of his shorts. Junhoe groaned moving away from your hand. “Y/n, I said no. No matter how many times you ask I’ll say no.” You rolled onto your back, thinking of how you could win him over and get what you want. It had been awhile since you two last had sex since he and the boys had been so busy with recording.

A smirk spread across your face as you thought of how to win over Junhoe. Sure he wouldn’t respond to just please, but you knew of another word which he could never resist. You leaned over and wrapped your arms around his waist. “Are you sure you don’t want to?” He looked at you through tired eyes, “No babe.” You leaned up kissing his neck, travelling to his ear. “Please daddy?” You whispered in his ear as your hand traveled back to his shorts. His eyes snapping open as he smirked at you. “What did you say?” You smirked as you rolled over, now straddling him. Your lips finding their way back to his neck, “Please daddy.” You softly bit his ear, his hands now traveling to your waist.

“You know what that word does to me.” He licked his lips as he pulled off your shirt, quickly switching places so you were under him. You began tugging at the hem of his shirt, but he grabbed both of your wrists pinning them above your head. “Not so fast princess.” He looked up at you smirking as he began kissing down your body. Slowly, starting with your neck, moving to your breasts. Taking his time with each of them, sucking, biting, then continuing on down your stomach, stopping about the waistband of your panties.

He ran his fingers up your cloth covered slit, earning a soft moan from you. “Fuck, your wet baby girl.” Before you could take another breath, he ripped your panties off, his tongue slowly circling your clit as he slid one finger between your folds. “Oh my god! Fuck!” He smiled up at you, quickening his pace while inserting a second finger. “How does that feel baby girl?” You tugged on his hair, arching your back. “So good daddy.” He continued, his fingers now curling, hitting your spot perfectly. His mouth sucking and biting at your clit. “I want you to moan for daddy.” He quickened his pace, a loud moan escaping your lips, your hands tugging his hair. You felt yourself reaching your peak. “Junhoe, I’m gonna cum.”

Normally he would’ve stopped, but he was in control and kept up his pace. His fingers and tongue not stopping, causing your breath to catch in your throat, your hands now pulling at the sheets, you felt your walls tightening around his fingers. “Junhoe, fuck!” Your breath now heavy as he pulled his fingers from your slit.

He looked at you smiling while licking his fingers clean. He grabbed your chin pulling your face to his, kissing you. You tongues tangling as you could still taste your juices in his mouth. He broke the kiss pulling of his shirt. You kissed down his body, leaving some love bites, stopping above the waistband of his shorts. You looked at him biting your lip, almost asking for permission. “You gonna be good to daddy?” “Mhm.” You shook your head, beginning to palm his erection through his shorts.  He let out a low groan as you pulled down his shorts along with his boxers. You took his length into your hand, slowly stoking it. “Shit. I want you to suck daddy’s cock baby.” You obeyed his request slowly bringing your lips to his head. You slowly slid more of him into your mouth, causing him to groan. You held his waist as you took all of him into your mouth, your gag reflex soon kicking in.

“Oh fuck!” He threw his head back grabbing fistfuls of your hair. You pulled your mouth off of him, but soon he forced your head back down his shaft. “Stick your tongue out.” You stuck your tongue out as he held your head in place, you began gagging. “Fuck baby, you’re so good to daddy.” He pulled you off, and you stoked him while wiping the saliva from your chin. “Again!” He pushed your head back on his length. “Take it deeper baby.” He pushed you as far you could go. He began thrusting in and out of your mouth, fists tight full of your hair. “Oh shit baby!” You winced at the pain from his grip on your hair, but ignored the pain. “Get up.” He pulled you off of him standing you up. His lips quickly crashing into yours. He grabbed a fistful of hair, pulling your head to one side as he bit and sucked at your neck. “What do you want next baby?” All you could do was moan at him kissing you. “I said-” “Ow!” He slapped your ass causing you to yelp. “What do you want next?” You were to distract from the sting of your ass check to answer. He quickly dropped on hand to your clit, his fingers circling it, making you lean into him, wanting him closer. “Tell daddy what you want.” You wrapped your hands around his neck, pulling yourself closer to his fingers. You bit down on his shoulder moaning. “I want-” His fingers moving faster. “Shit. I want you to fuck me daddy.”

“What was that?” His fingers now sliding across the length of your slit. “Please, daddy. I want you to fuck me.” Your fingers tangling in his hair as you moaned into his neck. “Please, I need you.” He pulled his fingers from you, putting them to your lips. “Suck.” You took his fingers in your mouth, sucking, tasting your juices once again. He reached over grabbing a condom from his dresser, ripping it open with his teeth and sliding it down his shaft. “Jump.” You jumped and he caught your legs, now walking you towards the wall. He pushed your back against the wall and teased your slit with his tip. “Oh fuck, don’t tease me.” You tried pushing yourself onto him but he would just pull away. “Say those words one more time for me baby girl. You pulled his hair, looking into his eyes. “Please daddy, fuck me.” With those words you saw his eyes fill with lust. He slammed into you without warning, causing you to moan so loud the other boys would hear, if they haven’t heard you two already.

“Shit baby you’re tight.” He didn’t bother to go slow or let you adjust, you were at his control. “Fuck Junhoe, harder.” You wrapped your arms around his neck resting your head on his shoulder, trying to catch your breath as his thrusting became harder and faster. “Are you close yet baby?” You shook your head not being able to form words. He pulled you from the wall, walking you both to his bed. He put you down, as gently as he could, not pulling his length from your heat. He put one of your legs on his shoulder, allowing him to thrust deeper. “Oh fu-” You covered your mouth, but he quickly pulled it away. “I want them to hear you scream for me.” He pinned your arms above your head while he quickened his pace. “Oh my god! Fuck, I’m gonna cum.” “That’s it baby.” He looked at you licking his lips, your walls tightening around his length. He kept thrusting and you rode out your orgasm, your breathing now heavy as his thrusts slowed down. “Shit baby, I want you to ride daddy now.” He pulled out, letting you position yourself on top of him. You slowly lowered yourself down onto him, both of you moaning out.

“Fuck, baby. If you do good, I’ll cum quick.” You smirked at him as you began to bounce up and down on his shaft. You tossed you head back as Junhoe’s hands squeezed your ass. “Fuck!” He slapped your ass, it stung but you didn’t mind. “Shit, I’m so close baby girl.” You rested your hands on his chest, helping to push yourself up and down faster. “Are you gonna cum?” He bit his lip shaking his head. You began to kiss at his neck, whispering in his ear. “I want you to cum for me daddy. Please. Can you do that?” His hands now gripping at your hips, surely there would be bruises there when you woke up. “Fuck, you want daddy to cum?” “Mhm.” You nibbled on his ear, knowing he was so close. “Fuck! I’m gonna cum baby!” His thrusts now the hardest they’ve been all night. “Shit!” With one last buck of his hips he had reached his peak. He wrapped his arms around your waist as he caught his breath coming down from his climax.
“Fuck baby. You were so good.” You rolled off of him so he could dispose of the condom. You pulled your underwear, threw on another one of Junhoe’s shirts, and collapsed onto the bed. He pulled his boxers back on and joined you. “You were right, I did need to relax a little after that long practice.”

He pulled you in for a kiss. He wrapped his arms around you and pulled you closer to him. “Goodnight babe.” You rested your head on his chest and closed your eyes. “Goodnight daddy.” He quickly looked down at you while you looked up at him smirking. “Don’t say that word if you aren’t ready for what comes with it.” “Oh I think I’m ready. Round 2?” He walked over to his dresser to grab a condom, then turned back to look at you.

“How about, we try this round in the shower?”

More Than Just A Boss (Taemin AU) Pt.7

Part 1, Part 2, Part 3, Part 4, Part 5, Part 6

Type: Angst Fluff

You smiled at Hajoon as you cracked eggs into the bowl “does your dad eat breakfast?” you asked her as if she would respond. She simply sat in her walker before you shrugged continuing to make food. “I feel like a domesticated house wife” you say to yourself as you pour the egg mix into the pan before you began scrambling them. “What are you doing?” Taemin asked as he stepped out of the hallway with messy hair “making food” you state giving him a plate of simple eggs. He looked at them “I usually just have coffee” “and that’s why you’re so thin” you tell him as you bring him a freshly made up of coffee. “Do you normally do this?” he asked “I’ve lived alone” you tell him as you pick up Hajoon and grabbed a jar of food from the fridge. You sat her down in her seat before popping the jar open. “Aren’t you going to eat?” he asked “I have all day” you tell him as you scooped out some food “less on the spoon” he says simply as he took a bite. You do as said taking off most of it “more than that though” he then says as you give him a look. He was smirking as you rolled your eyes and brought it to her mouth. 

In the last week you have seen your boss smile more than ever. You didn’t think there was a person he loved more than his daughter as well. He came home and automatically took his daughter into his arms and sat down with her and simply cooed and cuddled her. It was very sweet to see him like this. “So today I work late” he spoke as you looked over at him “but I plan on calling around 8:30 so I can talk to her” he finishes as he pushes his plate to your direction. You raised a brow at it “why?” you ask him as he got up taking his cup with him to his bedroom to start getting ready “does he not know how wash a plate” you mumble as you continued to feed Hajoon. She let out a whine as she looked for Taemin “changing” he called out being able to hear her “he’ll be back soon” you coo as rub her chin lightly. 

10 minutes later Taemin came back out holding something “I need you to sew a button back on this shirt” he said holding a small sewing kit “alright” you mumble taking it from him “which shirt?” you then asked “the one I have on” he said as you sigh “do you actually take care of yourself at all?” you ask him as you began helping with the button. “Yes but now I have someone who makes it easier for me” he told you. “Well I did most of your daily work beforehand” you tell him as he shrugs “then I guess you’re good at taking care of me” he told you as you looked up at him. 


After waving him off for the day you had settled Hajoon back into her bouncer and sat down beginning to scroll through your newsfeed. But the doorbell soon rang and you looked down at Hajoon before the door was knocked on. You got up from the couch and headed to the monitor to check who it was, you hit the button “who is it?” you asked as the person looked up “rude chick?” the voice spoke. It was Jongin and you rolled your eyes. You headed to the door opening it a bit “go away manwhore” you say as you look at him “just got a present for Taemin” he said holding an invitation between two fingers “my wedding” he spoke. You took it from him before ripping it open “oh look two whores getting married” you coo. You gave him a smile before you spat into the invite. “Consider that my gift” you say shoving the open card into his chest making sure spit was smeared onto his top as he looked completely shocked. “I hope you two end up poor” you say in a singsong tone before slamming the door into his face.


As the day ticked away you were bathing Hajoon waiting for Taemin to call. You pulled her out of the rub and the wet baby clung to you after you wrapped her in a towel. You inhaled lightly taking in the scent of her baby shampoo, you were growing to love it. Picking up your phone you checked the time to see it was already 9. “Looks like daddy got busy” you mumble as you take her to her room to get her dressed. The minutes continued to tick by as you brought her to the kitchen getting her nightly bottle heated. Hajoon also seemed to notice the lack of her father as she looked around while drinking, you rubbed her back “don’t worry dear, you’ll see him when you wake up” you promised.

Never to be Found

Pairing: past Dean x Reader
Word count: 1,966
Warnings: Slight angst, swearing 

Another night of laying in your apartment, listening to the rain on your windows. You could have worked that night, but your daughter was sick, and you opted to stay with her. As these nights always went, your mind wandered to the man she inherited her green eyes from.

Dean smiled at you, and the butterflies in your stomach went wild. You still were getting used to the fact that you could call him your boyfriend. After ages fawning over him, it was his arms you fell asleep in every night. “Hey, sweetheart?” He snapped you from your thoughts, chuckling. “Need anything while I’m out?”

“I’m good, thanks.” You smiled, moving over and kissing his cheek.

Sighing, you rolled to your side, willing those memories away.

Dean was doing much the same, but his bed wasn’t empty. On his chest was a pretty blonde that he’d be saying goodbye to in the morning. False hope on her part that he would call her again. It had been 6 years since the last time he’d seen you, and he didn’t blame you one bit. He did try to find you, though, just to know you were safe.

Every lead was a dead end, every bit of hope he had slowly being chipped away. As weeks turned to months, Sam watched the smile on his brother’s face appear less and less. As months turned to years, he watched Dean’s heart shatter, knowing that you were long gone. Either hiding so well that he’d never find you, or dead somewhere. The latter was something neither of them wanted to even consider.

Dean wandered into the room he shared with you sometime after one in the morning, expecting you to be sleeping there like you always were. Curled up on your side, wearing one of his shirts, and your long legs smooth and bare.

He froze when he found his bed empty. Storming over to the closet, he found your clothes gone. Sam rushed towards the sound of crashing, his hair sticking this way and that, wondering what was going on. “Dean?” He asked, slowing down as his passed through the door.

His green eyes were filled with conflicting emotions as he looked towards his younger brother. “She’s gone!” He ground out. Sam’s heart sank, knowing that was the last he’d see of you.

Sighing, Dean closed his eyes and focused on the smooth body on his chest. He tried to kill thoughts of you, tried to get rid of all tiny shreds of hope that he’d ever set eyes on you again, but he just couldn’t.

Keep reading

That’s Mine - Chris Evans x Reader

That’s Mine - (Chris Evans x Reader)

Words - 

Warnings - Language! (Sorry.)

AN - In all seriousness, thank you so much to @always-a-marvel-addict because she has been so nice to me, and cheered me up. Give her some love! <3

Being the love of Chris Evans, came with perks, as well as many downfalls. There was the constant photographers, being asked endless questions about your boyfriend, the disappearance of his beard, even the one time that you had to do an entire photo shoot, just because you were with him.

But by far, the worst part of being with him, was the fact, that at any moment, he would be gone for weeks, and you would not be able to see him. And, that being said, you never wanted to be around when he was packing up. But he needed you there. Not only was he a terrible packer, but he needed you, too.

As you saw his belongings being placed in a bag, you could not help but think that a part of you was drifting away, as his items seemed to dissapear from your shared bedroom and en suite. Right now, he was standing at the wardrobe, pulling out various shirts, and tossing them to the bed, where you were sat, by his case.

The shirts would land on your face, or close to you, where you would fold them up, before placing them in the case. Chris turned back for a moment, walking towards you, sitting on the edge of his bed, his eyes turning between the case, and you.

“Do you think you’d fit in my case? I only want to bring you.” He said, jokingly, but a serious tone meant at the same time. You shook your head, running your hand over his beautiful beard, which would soon be gone. 

“Baby, you know I can’t come this time. Anyway, you’re gonna get distracted-”

“I am not!” He says, almost childish, pulling himself up, and walking back to the wardrobe. You giggle, as he begins to pull out more shirts from the wardrobe, and throws them onto the case. 

Sooner or later, his blue Henley Shirt landed on the bed. short sleeves, soft fabric, and it smelt just like him. It wouldn’t hurt, would it? To keep one of his shirts back to remember him by? As stealthily as you could, you slipped the shirt underneath his pillow, and began to pack the other items he was beginning to give you.

“Chris?” You asked, trying to stop him from choosing shirts. In return, you heard a little grunt, before he looked back to you.

“Did you pack your wash bag? I don’t want to get calls saying you forgot it.” You giggle, remembering the memories which had been from a previous film. He shook his head, before replying to your sentence.

“I didn’t need it. It had my toothbrush, which I had a spare, shampoo, which was at the hotel, and condoms, which you were not there-”

“Okay, i’m going to go get your stuff together. Your flight will need checking into soon.” You say, pulling yourself up from the bed, and going into the bathroom. Your socked feet padded over the cold flooring, as you opening the mirrored cabinet, pulling out much of his washing items.

Whilst you were gone, you failed to notice Chris, looking into his suitcase, checking what shirts had been passed into it. He failed to see his Henley, which he knew he had passed to you. 

Wait, you hadn’t taken it, had you? No, you would of packed it. But wait, would you really. Grinning, he walked to where the door to the en suite was open, lingering for a moment, before giving a cough. You looked up, giving a questioning look. 

“Babe, you saw my Henley, right?” He paused. “My blue one, with the short sleeves.” As convincingly as you could, you shook your head, as if you had never seen it. Chris shook his head, stepping closer towards you.

“Sweetie, whenever you lie, you do this thing, where you bite your lip.” He says gently, getting ever closer to you. Soon his inches away, and you can feel his breath on you. Keeping your mouth shut, you shake your head again, before miming your lips shutting. 

It wasn’t going to get anywhere this way, so the man picked you up, placing you over his shoulder, and laying you down on the section of the bed, which hadn’t been taken over. “Now, we can do this the easy way, or the hard way.” He said dramatically, over your shouting. 

“Chris, what are you…” You begin to ask, before you are cut off, with his hands delving into your sides causing you to squeal and giggle. Oh god the tickles, not the tickles. His fingers were quick, moving on one part of your skin, and then the next. His hands slipped your your shirt, continuing to tickle you endlessly, the tears beginning to form in your eyes, as the screams got louder.

“Chri- Oh god! Fuck! Stop!” You get the words out through the laughs, as he raises his eyebrows, now laughing himself.

“Oh! Are you gonna tell me where it is?” He says, pausing momentarily for you to respond. To which, you shook your head. Shrugging his shoulders, he continued to tickle, his hands drawing all over your body, arms, and legs. The screaming and laughs continued, before you had to surrender.

It was way too much now. “Okay!” You shout, in-between laughs. He stops, before lifting his hands momentarily, waiting for your response. “It’s under the pillow.” You reply, reaching out for it, and passing it to him. Chris takes it for a moment, as you pull yourself up, now sitting up on the edge of the bed, whilst he crouches in front of you.

“Baby, If you wanted something to remember me by, you should of asked.” He said gently, kissing your forehead. You sigh, taking his head in your hands, so his beautiful eyes were looking into yours.

“You know I love you, so much, right?” You ask, softly, to which he nods, before responding.

“I love you two, and I will be back in two weeks two hold you again.” He said, kissing you gently, before resting his hands on your hips. “But you do know, if you want to borrow my shirt, it’s gonna cost you.” 

“What do you want?” You ask. He shares a smile, before his hands delve into your sides again.

“No Chris! Oh my god!”

Friends With Benefits (Part 5) - Taehyung x Reader

Group : BTS

Member : Kim Taehyung

Genre : smut, cheating, affair, jealousy, FWB

Word Count : 4K

Description : having a friends with benefits despite being in a relationship? not a good idea, right? 

A/N : I’m outta hiatus, bishes! Gotta use the vacation break to write, write, write! I changed my name (I used to be “rudekpop”) to txhyvn because it looks cooler. But I also lost half of my work because of changing name, so yay!

previous : part IV | next : part VI

MASTERLIST (there are a few links to be fixed!)

Originally posted by dhjung

Keep reading

Imagine being an intern at Star Labs and being on coffee duty when you get super flustered and spill it over Cisco/yourself and him being super sweet and understanding ahh (*O*)

You were trying to balance four cups of coffee on one hand and two on the other.

First stop- Cisco’s workshop, as it was the closest to where you were.

When you turned the corner you bumped into someone and all of the coffee spilled on both of you.

“Oh my god! I’m so sorry!” You said, and when you looked up you saw Cisco soaked in coffee, thankfully you somehow were always late- even when getting coffee- so it wasn’t really hot.

You quickly got a napkin that was somehow still dry and tried to dry Cisco, but as soon as you saw what you were doing you froze, and soon started to mutter apologies, most of them not even making sense to you.

“Y/n, it’s okay,” he smiled, “this shirt needed a wash anyway.” But as soon as he said it he cringed, “Not that I walk around in dirty clothes, I wash them. Obviously.” He finished awkwardly.

You smiled, thankful that it wasn’t awkward just for you.

“Sorry,” you said, “I was actually just bringing it to you.”

“Mission accomplished.” He said, and you let out a small laugh.

“Oh, come on I think I have a Star Labs sweatshirt in the workshop that I can give you.”

You wanted to tell him that it wasn’t necessary, but before you managed he was already in the workshop so you quickly followed him.

“Thanks,” you said when he gave you the sweatshirt.

“No problem.” He smiled.

He seemed to do that a lot. 

Smiling looked good on him.

You didn’t even notice that he’d started talking, “I’m sorry, what?”

“I asked if you want me to show you something cool.” He repeated.

“Sure.” You answered, more time with your long time crush- not that you would tell him that. Just what you needed, rejection.

After a long explenation on how a new gun that he was working on worked there was an awkward and uncomfortable silence.

As you were turning to leave he grabbed your arm and you turned around to look at him, hoping that the blush that you could feel on your face wasn’t too noticable.

After standing like that, just looking at each other for a few moments he let out a caugh and let go of you, and you tried to not frown at the lost contact.

“Because we kinda ran into each other and the coffee spilled, would you like to go to Jitters? Doesn’t have to be now, could be like, tonight?” He got his hand up to put a piece of hair behind his ear, and you were tempted to do it yourself.

“I’d like that.” You said smiling.

He let out a relieved laugh, “Great!” He said, again with that mesmerising, beautiful smile of his.

“Great!” You repeated and smiled back.

He could surely see your blush now.

Originally posted by sssssssim

I hope it was okay!

Thank you anon for requesting, and to you guys for reading! :D


Prompt: “ Hey, I was wondering if I could request a Kirk x reader where the reader has kenophobia (the fear of voids/empty spaces. I sadly do suffer from this fear…) and the Enterprise is currently traveling through and empty area of space and the reader freaks out and Kirk helps calm them down?” - Anon

Word Count: 1,824

Author’s Note: I have this fear occasionally, as a side-effect to a profound fear of heights. I chose to write about the feeling of fear as I feel it from my perspective as someone who can’t handle heights very well. I hope that it rings true. Please enjoy <3

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