puffed jacket

anonymous asked:

Hi! I would like to request a prompt where Jumin's biological mother comes back to see him after he becomes the head of C&R. It's up to you how it gonna turn out, whether it is angsty or not. Thank u!! :")

I meant for this to be angst but I’m a fOOL ᕦ( ఠ్ఠ _ ఠ్ఠ ˇ)ᕤ 

Anyhow, I’d be happy to do this thank you and have a terrific day sweetheart! Enjoy!


Mr. Han had passed.

They may as well have said his heart had broken.

A combination of the stress and pressure they had told you.

Started by the grief by one failed relationship after another.

Only so much could be done.

Until it inevitably ended.

Jumin had stayed by his father’s side during his last few days, assuring him he’d be fine, even updating him on the C & R’s status, as if he’d be heading to work the very next day. 

But as his heartbeat flattened, Jumin didn’t speak, his eyes wide with a sort of horror and fear you had never seen before. 

He hadn’t even realized he was crying as the sound of his father’s heartbeat stopped, staring miserably at Mr. Han, his brow furrowed and jaw gaping.

Yet no words came out. 

He was speechless. 

But as you wrapped your arms around him, he crumbled.

But despite everything, he was silent. 

He had stayed that way almost the entire night only speaking as you drew yourself away for a moment if only to get a blanket, seeing him tremble.

He had ribboned his fingers with your own, holding you back, his gaze turning to face you, his voice barely above a whisper. 

“Don’t,” He hummed. “Don’t leave, please.” 

You gave in the moment he spoke, curling up beside him, feeling his arms entwining around you, holding onto you as though you might fade away with the next breeze. 

You never did.

Yet as time went on, the pain almost did.

Until someone arrived. 

Jumin had taken his father’s place as the head of the C & R company, always calling you throughout the day, always a hint of concern in his words before he’d hear you.

As if you’d be gone too.

Yet this day, you were planning to surprise him, a small gift held in your grip as you knocked on the office door, excitement brimming inside of you.

He opened it to meet you, an almost instinctual smile tugging at his lips as he saw you, chuckling lightly. 

“Darling!” He pressed a fond kiss to your head, ushering you inside of his office. “What’re you doing here?”

“I wanted to bring you something!” You grinned, handing him the small gift. “I’ve been trying to figure out how to make this dessert and I finally-” 


You twisted to the door confusedly. “I thought this was your break?” 

“It is…” He frowned, stepped forward. “I’m sure it’s just Jahee with some forms I wasn’t given.” 

But as it unveiled who was on the other side, it was clear it was no mistake.

You hadn’t seen her before, but you knew the moment your husband’s face dropped.

His mother. 


Jumin had told you about her during quiet nights, an unmistakable gloom casting over himself as he retold the tales.

“She drained my family of almost everything we had,” He would confess, a cloudy glint in his eyes. “She’d spend every drop of money we had with us on shopping sprees. She nearly left us bankrupt, threatened us to lose our home, everything we had. You…You should’ve seen my father MC every night he’d break down, and each day they’d fight for what felt like hours. She didn’t even care MC…she just let our family rot.” 

As he would continue he’d struggle to come up with the words, shaking from the frustration. 

“If my father hadn’t left her…we would’ve fallen apart…but my dad he still did.” He sighed. “He kept searching for the happiness he never found with her.” 

And now she was back.

And poison was wound in her every move. 

She gave him a honeyed smirk, dipping her head politely. 

“Jumin! It’s been far too long hasn’t it?”

“…What…What’re you doing here?” He muttered, quiet and petrified. 

“What do you think I’m doing here honey? I’m here to congratulate the new boss!” She laughed meekly, allowing herself in. “I haven’t seen you in so long, you didn’t even invite me to the funeral…”

“Only family was invited.” He growled. “People who cared about my father.” 

“I don’t appreciate the accusation-” She noticed you, her gaze the size of saucers as she saw you, gasping. “Who is this? Is this the famous MC I keep hearing about?” 

She reached out to shake your hand, only held back as Jumin stepped between of you, scowling.

“Don’t touch them.” 

“Where are your manners Jumin?” She scoffed. “I simply want to introduce myself to them!” 

“I-um…I’ve already heard of you before Ms. Myung. No introductions needed!” You laughed sheepishly, Jumin’s arm snaking around your waist protectively. 

“Well…” She huffed, glaring at Jumin, curly locks of sooty hair twirling about her ears. “I suppose it’s good that at least one of you is decent enough to show some manners.” 

“Not that you deserve it.” 

“How can you speak to me that way?” 

“You think you deserve any sort of respect?” 

“How else do you talk to your mother?” 

“You’re not supposed to nearly tear apart your family either, but you had a rather fun time doing that as well,” He shot daggers at her, glowering. “you’re in no position to be upset.”

He jeered. “Why’re you even here?”

“I came here to discuss our policy,” She huffed, snatching out a stack of papers. “Since your father is gone I wanted to ensure there wouldn’t be any changes to the current agreement.” 

“Of course you did.” He shook his head. “Your business is worthless in comparison to our other partners though, C & R gains nothing from keeping you with us. And that’s with an objective point of view.” 

“You can’t just tear me out of this.” She threatened. “I’ve been a part of this business for too long!” 

“And for most of that time, you were tearing that apart!” He remarked. “It shouldn’t even matter to you regardless, you still hold rights to your business, simply sell yourself off to someone else, since you’re so confident in your importance.” 

She weakened for a moment, attempting to grab onto his arm, her son jerking away, almost repulsed somehow.

“You can’t do this to me me…I’m your mother…I-I raised you.” 

He winced, hesitating if only for a second.

“My father raised me, you are a woman who used him for his wealth,” He stared down at her, utterly towering. “I will not make the same mistake.”

“If you talk to me that, I can only the poor treatment you put MC through.” 

You could hardly believe your ears, nearly choking on air as you switched to her, sneering. 

“Unlike you, I married my husband because I love him!” You proclaimed. “I love him more than anything! I don’t love his money, his big house, or any sort of wealth he has! I love him because he’s him!” 

You thought of his delicate, tender laughter, his ridiculous puns he’d murmur to you throughout the day, his enjoyment of stories, and even the simple light in his eyes that would grow as he’d look at you, as though you hung the very stars.

Yet more than anything you thought of his pure desire to make you happy.

You even saw it then, keeping you close, trying to hide away the anger seeping from him.

But as he looked at you, he melted. 

And your heart swelled with warmth.

“He has never hurt me,” You proudly declared, “and I’m not going to let you hurt him.” 

She was baffled, jaw agape, trying to come up with something, anything to say.

But Jumin got to it first.

“If you’d rather had a more grand exit, I’d be more than happy to call security, otherwise, go.” 

She began sentences as she balled her hands into fists, finding herself backed into a corner.

The only option was, to leave. 

And she did.

She readjusted the colors of her jacket, puffing out her chest with some sort of faux pride before storming off, an odd sort of melancholic regret plastered onto her before the door shut.

And for a moment there was silence.

And it sank in.

“Thank you…” He muttered, his head turned to the door, a cloudy fog in his eyes. “I don’t think I could’ve taken much more of her honestly.” 

“I don’t think I could’ve either…” 

“But um…may I ask you something?”


“Did you…did you really mean what you said-before-I mean.” 

You raised your hand to his cheek, forcing him to look at you, your fingertips lacing within his messy strands. 

“Of course I did,” You spoke quietly, earnestly. “I meant every word Jumin.” 

You pressed a kiss to his nose, smiling.

“I love you for you, nothing could ever change that,” You continued, your heart swelling. “Nothing will ever change that.” 

He laughed beneath his breath, almost in disbelief, pulling you close to him.

“Thank you, darling,, I…I just…” 


“I can’t even put into words how much I love you.” 


No one does casual wear like Niall. And his collection of sunglasses is unrivaled so far. Niall doesn’t shy away from his staple color, navy blue. But he carries it off well, so who can blame him? Here are some of my favorite looks!

March 11 - Instagram - Details (shirt, shorts, shoes, sunnies)

Before the hiatus, there was a brief moment of inspiration where I jovially proclaimed Niall will turn into a fashion blogger in a few months. And so it happened. Still waiting for that closet tour. Jokes aside, I love when guys don’t shy away from a polished look. And this was both an easygoing and ready to meet your mother outfit.

June 24 - Glastonbury - Details (jacket, shoes)

Glasto, for me, was a great weekend for Niall. And his sartortial choices. In the sea of stripes and waistcoats and look after look of Oliver Spencer and Paul Smith, this came as a breath of fresh air. Maybe Niall should become a professional festival-goer! He does it very well.

December 13 - Out in NY - Details (coat)

I’m not a puffed jacket gal, per say. However, this look made me pause to appreciate it upon first glance, and it’s the one that will stay with me as one of the era of 2016 looks. Here’s to more winter Niall. 

Happy New Year!

- Lu

Okay so straight-up the weirdest thing that happened to me in middle school was this:

In history class, our teacher would read from the memoirs of a guy who traveled America on his motorcycle, making observations on what was going on in the world, including mundane things like the change of the shape of the Coca Cola bottle in 1916. His name was Harmon and he liked to drink coke paired with chocolate bars.

This wasn’t the weird part. It made sense, enough, that someone would have decided that we kids needed to get a more individual sense of history.

However, then we were told that this Harmon guy was actually still alive.

Cool, we thought. He’d be over a hundred, but whatever. That can happen.

And then we were told that we would be having a “Harmon Days” event in which Harmon would visit our school and give a talk and blah blah you know I don’t even remember it that clearly? There were supposed to be other events and activities and we would all get coke and chocolate.

Also. We were supposed to dress up in our best costumes of the era of his memoirs

SHOUTOUT TO MY MOM who made me a skirt and matching jacket w/puffed sleeves for this event I had a great costume and I even used it again before I totally grew out of it. But she put in so much effort for something that REALLY DIDN’T DESERVE IT.

Because during Harmon’s talk, he revealed that he was…not real.

So picture this: you have a bunch of middle school kids sort of dressed up like they were from the 19-teens, and this really, really old dude takes the podium to talk to them. And his talk is going along, blah blah blah, and then he PEELS OFF HIS FACE. And it doesn’t come off all at once, so he keeps PICKING AT the extremely professional old-man latex makeup he was wearing.

And I think, I think, because I cannot recall exactly through the haze of betrayal, that he kept talking about how he was the creator of the FICTIONAL Harmon (who we had all grown attached to while thinking of him as a REAL person) and you know what? I don’t recall anything else. I just remembered being PISSED OFF because I had been digging getting a personal view of history but now how could I trust than anything we had heard was really how it had been? I had already faced the deceptions of the American Diaries series or whatever. WHY had we been given a FAKE in history class??? Why? And why had it been such an ELABORATE fake?????

I remembered most of the other kids being disgusted, but most of the adults were really pleased? One of them actually referred to the whole thing as “giving them [aka us] Santa Claus again” WRONG. You gave us a guy who was moderately interesting because he was real and had really seen history. As a fiction, it was unutterably dull. Santa Claus is magic and brings presents and has a whole huge cultural persona. Who the fuck was Harmon? No one.

Was this a local author? Did this happen in any other middle schools? Why couldn’t we have read a real memoir? WHO AUTHORIZED THIS? 

There was more historical accuracy in the making of my simplicity-pattern costume than Harmon’s entire existence. 

And the thing is, lots of other weird things happened to me in middle school, but they all have context–maybe not the best context, but it’s there. Except for Harmon. Fucking Harmon. It’s like every teacher was replaced with a space alien that thought this would be a great idea for a month or two, and then switched back to being their mostly good selves.

So, anyway, that’s my experience with Harmon Days, which was a load of bullshit, except for the costume my mom made, go mom, you are the real MVP.

R e p e n t a n c e

Min Yoongi x Reader x Park Jimin

Pt 1 - 5 Stages of Grief

Final Pt - Unforgettable

Summary: What’s done is done and the only thing he can do is regret and repent.

A/N: Special thanks to @infires-by-bts for inspiration!

He kissed you on the cheek gently and you giggled to yourself.

“Are you okay now?” Your lovely fiancé, Min Yoongi, cooed and you smiled as you snuggled into his everlasting warmth. Yoongi gave you a small smile and accepted you act of love, reciprocating by wrapping his arms around your body.

“I’m fine, they don’t hurt anymore.” You responded as you traced the outlines of the scars on your wrist and Yoongi gently does the same. His soft, pale fingers slid down the cuts used to cover your grief and after much time, he was able to trace them without you flinching away.

To what to you felt like an eternity, you came in terms with your break up with your cunning and sly ex boyfriend, Jimin Park. After sneaking into one of his concerts backstage, you were exposed to his crafty ways by taking advantage of you to push himself further up the food chain. Devastated by this revelation, Min Yoongi became the shoulder you cried on the man you ended up falling for.

Here you were now, snuggling with your teasing, but loving boyfriend while watching a movie.

“Did Jimin call you at all?” The man beside you asked as he caressed your hair. Although the path to recovery was extensive and enduring, the one thing that you have yet to recover from is hearing Jimin’s name.

“Yeah, he calls me a lot. Just this morning he called.” You fiddled with your phone with your free hand and glanced at your boyfriend as his patient hazel eyes pierced into yours.

You broke eye contact and stared blankly at the movie. Yoongi sighed and cuddled you even closer.

“I’m going to make you forget everything about him.” He whispered as his long, slick fingers slide through your hair and played around with the ends of your hair.

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My Best Friend's Wedding

Summary: Your best friend, Ashton, is getting married, but you are deeply in love with him.

I flicked page through page of Sports Illustrated, sneaking peeks of my best friend over the top of the magazine. I watched as he straightened out his black and white tux, tugging at the hem of his suit jacket. He puffed out a breath of air and pivoted around to look at me.

“How do I look?”

I smiled. “You look amazing. If I didn’t know any better I would have thought your idea of formal was black skinny jeans and a button up shirt.”

He chuckled. “Funny, but this is my wedding we’re talking about.”

My heart ached at the sudden mention of it. His wedding…I always thought this day would bring me the upmost happiness. Then again I always thought I would be the one with the ring. I found that out the hard way.

As it turns out, I’m dreading the very moment I will have to watch some other women exchange vows with him as I sit and smile.

I masked my melancholic expression, standing to come closer to him. I couldn’t find the right words to say after that. I readjusted his bow tie so it was perfectly aligned.

Then I replied, “Chelsea is a lucky girl.”

I hoped he had not heard the heartbreak laced in my voice. I bit my lip to keep from saying something else I shouldn’t say. Lately, that’s all I have been capable of. Lucky enough for me, Ashton has not picked up on any of it. I can’t say the same for the other guys though.

“No. I’m the lucky one. Any guy would kill to be with someone like her. She’s so beautiful, smart, and beautiful.”

I cleared my throat. “You said beautiful twice, Ash. “

“Well, she is the most beautiful woman I have ever met.“

It hurt like hell to listen to him talk about her, but it hurt even worse to watch them together. I keep telling myself that as his best friend, I should be there for him especially now. He would do the same for me even if it caused him to feel like the world around him was crumbling down. I blinked away tears. I ripped myself from my self-loathing reverie to see Ashton watching me curiously.

“What?” I asked, averting my gaze.

“Are you alright?”

Am I alright? If I had a quarter for every time someone asked me that, I would be as rich as he was. Each and every time I said the same thing. Yes. I’m fine. For a moment, I debated actually telling the truth. The truth is: I’m not fine at all. I’m afraid of seeing the love of my life being taken from me. I’m afraid to lose my best friend.

I lied through my teeth, “I’m fine. It’s just…I’m really happy for you.”
He smiled, but it faded rather quickly. The look in his eyes morphed into one of confusion. The selfish part of me wished he would reconsider what he was doing. Chelsea was a nice girl, but she wasn’t exactly meant for Ashton. The two paired together more like brother and sister rather than lovers. I wondered if it was just visible to me because I wanted him so badly.

“Do you think I’m doing the right thing?”

“What do you mean?”

Ashton sighed. “Do you think me and Chels getting married is the right thing to do?”

Oh, how I wanted to say no. It would be so simple to just say it. It’s not like he wouldn’t listen. He believes everything I say, but I couldn’t do that to him. I couldn’t be selfish with him. He was one of the purest things I had in my life. Truth be told, I just could not say it.

“Does she make you happy?”

He took a minute to think. I could almost see his mind running a mile a minute. “She does make me happy.”

“Then you are marrying her. No more doubts, okay?”

He crushed his body to mine, embracing me. “What would I do without you, Y/N?”

I didn’t want to fine out. If only he knew how much it pained me to talk to him or hug him. I could barely look at him without wanting to say it aloud. I love him.

Hey guys! Let me know if I should do a part 2 or not, but this must reach at least thirty likes and/or reblogs. Love you all, xoxo

this picture of zayn made me feel again like i am literally sitting here in silence rethinking all of my prior life decisions did you see this bitch playing games standing his smol tiny ass with fuzzy socks and this killer leather jacket puffing out cigarette smoke like bitch who do you think you are and who do you think i am like i literally never asked for this pain but at the same time im ready for him pushin that lit cigarette in my asshole im ready for him pushing those socks in my mouth and choking me like he was gone for so long BUT HE DIDNT HAVE TO GO THIS HARD AND S C A L P ME…. bith coming back with a quiff honestly i never asked for ANY of this

  • also walked down the length of the national mall.  that dirt path that cuts through the swath of grass.  sun was setting.  tourists riding segways and one of them trying to pop a wheelie or some shit. joggers huffing and puffing by.  the jacket i was wearing was not nearly enough protection against the biting cold.  
  • i turned to see the needle of the washington monument silhoutted against the latter-day sky.  the burning orange hue blending into darkest blue of night.  at the other end, the capitol, capturing the last of the sun on its alabaster skin, the lights from within becoming more pronounced as daylight melted away.  then those fucking segway tourists appeared again, shortly to be ignored, their insipid, wheeled dances failing to lessen the storied majesty of this city.

Title: Mistletoe
Rating: E
Pairings: Doctor/Rose
Genre: romance, fluff
Length:  1707 words

A/N: This is a Christmas present for the lovely Kate (thedoctordanceswithrose). Merry Christmas!!

The Doctor hummed happily as he filled his hand with pigs in blankets. He certainly hadn’t wanted to come to the Estate’s annual Christmas bash but he never could pass up good nibbles. He was definitely not here because a certain Rose Tyler batted her eyelashes at him, leaning into his shoulder with that tongue-touched grin of hers. After popping a warm pig in blanket into his mouth, the Doctor turned around to lean against the buffet table.

Immediately, he spotted Rose across the room. Jackie was holding her by the arm, pulling her around to greet all of her friends and neighbors.

“Thanks to a certain someone,” Jackie had said, glaring at him, “not everyone is convinced she hasn’t been murdered.” He rolled his eyes.

Reluctantly, Rose went off with her mother, putting on a diplomatic smile that didn’t reach her eyes. He debated rescuing her but that would mean facing Jackie. He grimaced at the thought. A red hand print on his face would not go with his pinstriped suit.

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