sigh what a babe

Amy is the best person you could possibly work off of. She’s my favorite actress. We’re good friends [in real life], and then when we have scenes together, there’s just this thing that clicks. Honestly, when I see on the call sheet that we have a scene together, I still get really excited. It’s always something different. It’s not like we revert back to some holding pattern that we have. She always totally surprises me, and I always try to surprise her — although I’m a much less agile performer than she is in a lot of ways. [Laughs] We’re just genuinely having a lot of fun when we’re doing these scenes, no matter how short or long or serious or funny.

“Plants of Beauty.”

pairing : johnny x reader
word count : 452
a/n : in which johnny plants the seeds of beauty on an insecure face.


The thick, black markings, traced like tracks against your lash line, blurred against the rough fibres of the wipe you held. Scrubbing hard, the thick coats of pigments slowly washed away, leaving your face bare and exposed in the light of your small bedroom. Staring at your reflection, pure ugliness looked back, skin dry and red from years of abuse. Picking and prodding at your imperfections only added to the redness, sensitive pimples crying out blood. Hands giving up on their quest to attain beauty, you let them flop to your lap as you released a loud, and exhausted sigh, filling the silence in the air.

“Babe? What are you doing?”

His voice, unwanted in the current moment, shocked you in your seat, dresser rattling as you jumped. Glancing up at your boyfriend sheepishly, you mustered up all the innocence you could find.

“Nothing.”

You answered, although it appeared uncertain. Johnny raised a questioning eyebrow at you – did you really think you could fool him? He paced quietly to where you were seated, resting his large hand atop your frail shoulder. You felt the comforting pressure of a squeeze, before he spoke once more:

“Move over.”

Sliding along the cushioned stool, Johnny planted his body next to yours, a flower of beauty in full bloom, next to your sad, withered bud. You watched as his eyes journeyed to each and every product atop your dresser, a hint of sadness overpowering in his gaze.

“You know you don’t need all these.”

He whispered, a gentle nod at the hundreds of dollars of liquids and powders. He picked up a foundation, the colour certainly not true to your own, and frowned, eyebrows furrowed firmly.

“No one needs all these, society just tries to tell us differently.”

You stared at his side, features contorted deep in thought. You found his spiel rather funny, as it came from a man who radiated nothing but beauty. Alas, you found yourself waiting to hear more.

“Do you feel beautiful?”

“Johnny–“

“Right now. Do you feel beautiful?”

He was now looking at you, expectant eyes hoping for a cheery outcome – the sad glimmer showing he knew better than to expect.

“No.”

Your reply, albeit delicately whispered, was a shout in Johnny’s ears.

“I believe it’s my job to change this opinion.”

And so it began. Johnny placed gentle pecks on every inch of your face, not one patch of skin left unloved, his lips leaving scattering trails of seeds behind. His constant whispers of ‘you’re beautiful’ acted as the sunlight, the water in a drought, your pores soaking it up until your face was covered in nothing but blooming flowers, skin glowing with love. For you were beautiful.

House Party

Characters: Richard x Reader, Jensen, Jared
Words: 1174
Requested by Anonymous:  Hi, can you do a Richard x reader? I don’t have anything in mind so feel free to write want do you want 😊

Originally posted by deatheatergeek

           You sat on the couch and looked at your phone. You didn’t want to do anything. You were tired and just wanted to sit at home. But you didn’t want to sit at home by yourself. You wondered if your boyfriend was busy. Maybe he’d come spend some time with you even though you were being boring, Speight! That was the only thing you sent to Richard most of the time when you wanted his attention.

           It only took a couple of minutes for him to text you back, Hey, Babe! What are you doing?

           You sighed audibly as you texted him back, Nothing. I don’t want to go out tonight. But I really don’t wanna be alone. Are you busy?

           You didn’t know if Richard would be on set for Supernatural or doing something else for the show, but you hoped he would be free to come over, I’m free. I’ll be there in a little bit. House party tonight.

           You smiled at your phone. A “house party” for you and Richard really meant that it was just the two of you, having food, maybe watching a movie or putting on music and dancing together. But he never pressured you to actually leave the house, Thank you!

Keep reading

Remember That (Simon Dominic)

Originally posted by youngkaezy



    “Hey, I have a question to ask you,” Kiseok said. “Don’t get mad, okay?”

    You looked at him curiously as you took a sip of your tea. “Okay, shoot.”

    “How come you haven’t been getting out and about as much? And you aren’t dressing like yourself anymore,” he said.

     You looked down, swallowing. “I just, um…” you sighed. “No big reason. Hey, what do you want to do this evening?”

     “Babe,” he said, “I know something’s up.”

     You shook your head. “I’m going to be fine.”

     He sighed. “Well, I guess I can’t make you talk. But you know if you want to talk about anything, I’m here, right?”

    Your face softened and you nodded. “Yeah. Thanks, Kiseok.”

    “Sure.” He reached across the café table to take your hand. “You look gorgeous, by the way.”

    You smiled. “Thanks.”

Keep reading

5 -

Request: ‘Something about Van dating a journalist?”

I hope this is alright anon!! I just wanted to write something cute and heartwarming. Supportive boyfriend Van is an absolute dream am I right? (P.S I know nothing about journalism lol) xxxx

***********

“Fuck!” You shouted and threw your phone down beside you.

You stomped your legs like a child, putting your face in your hands and groaning in frustration.

Van walked through the door, curious about the sound and looked at you with a confused expression. You slumped back into the couch and sighed; you felt defeated.

“What’s wrong babe?” He asked, peeling his banana as he came to sit beside you.

“The publication rejected my story and all my ideas. They’re gonna fire me unless they get something they like within the next three days. I have nothing!” You threw yourself into his arms, starting to cry and he held you, one arm tightly around your body and the other stretched out to protect his snack.

“Hey it’s alright y/n, you’re a dead good writer and they’re just too fussy to appreciate you properly. I reckon just quit and do your own thing.”

You knew he was only trying to help but somehow those words made it worse. In journalism, you couldn’t just ‘do your own thing’ if you wanted to be successful; freelance was tough as shit. You’d been working with this publication for only a month now, it was your first job after university and you’d thought it had been going well. Suppose not. They loved you at the start but soon realised your talents and their requests didn’t seem to fit. But you couldn’t afford to quit, you needed a job. You wanted to write about art, music, and culture…about real people. They just wanted you to write gossip about Kylie Jenner’s tits.

“What the living fuck do I write about?” You questioned, not actually expecting an answer. You’d tried everything with them and they were never happy.

You sat up and wiped your face and Van finished his banana slowly, thinking.

“You could write about us? Like me and the lids, Catfish?” He suggested, a caring tone in his voice and pronouncing ‘us’ as if it had a ‘z’ on the end.

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NamJin #2
  • Seokjin: *cooking*
  • Namjoon: *comes behind him and wraps his arms around his waist* Hey
  • Seokjin: Hi.
  • Namjoon: That apron looks very nice on you.
  • Seokjin: Oh than--
  • Namjoon: You know where else it would look nice?
  • Seokjin:
  • Seokjin: Namjoon I swear to Go--
  • Namjoon: On my bedroom floor
  • Seokjin: *exaggerated sigh*
  • Namjoon: What do you think, babe?
  • Seokjin: *sighs again, then strokes Namjoon's chest from behind* Well. . .
  • Namjoon: *thinks* Ohohohohohooooo I'mma get lucky toni--
  • Seokjin: *stomps on his foot*
  • Namjoon: *very loud scream*
  • Seokjin: *shouting* DON'T INTERRUPT MY COOKING JUST BECAUSE YOU'RE HORNY

anonymous asked:

46 with ash? xx

(#46: “Have you seen the…? Oh.”)

For nearly ten minutes, Ashton had been searching for his favorite pair of boxers. He’d checked the laundry bin, washer, dryer, under your guy’s shared bed, and searched through every drawer in his dresser. Briefly, he glanced through his closet, but knowing he only placed nice clothes that couldn’t be wrinkled and his flannel shirts in there, he quickly gave up on that. Sighing in defeat, he reluctantly called out your name.

“What, babe?” you replied from the kitchen, preparing dinner for the both of you in a pair of leggings and an old sweatshirt of Ashton’s.

With a frustrated slump in his step, Ashton made his way to where you were placing the meat casserole in the oven, “Have you seen the…? Oh.” He stopped suddenly in the door frame, mouth hung open as he took in your frame bent in front of the door of the stove, your ass perched high in the air.

With a satisfied sigh after you situated the meat pie directly in the middle of the top shelf, you closed the oven with a huff and turned to your boyfriend. Quickly realizing what he had previously been staring at, you sloped across the kitchen with an exaggerated sway of your hips and stopped directly in front of the shell shocked boy. Leaning up to press your mouth close to his ear, you huskily whispered, “Like what you see, baby?”

Gulping, Ashton nodded frantically and allowed you to grab his hands and place them on your ass, instantly fondling your cheeks and roughly squeezing them in his hands.

“Fuck, I love you,” he groaned into your neck and shut his eyes tightly as you giggled into his ear, his eagerness to pull you into his body, hips against hips, causing you to blush.

“Ash,” you teased, lightly placing your hands on his chest and rolling your eyes fondly. “Come on, babe. There’s no time for a quickie, dinner’s gonna be ready in ten.”

It seemed though as if Ashton was in his own world, grunting in satisfaction as he continued kneading your ass.

“Ashton,” you repeated, firmer this time, causing his eyes to snap open and a flush to race across his cheeks.

“Sorry,” he replied, sliding his hands north and placing them lightly on your hips, pulling your body with him as he situated himself to lean against the counter. “You know me, I just get carried away sometimes.”

“Yeah,” you remarked as you smirked at him. “Trust me, I know.”

“Oh, come on,” Ashton replied exasperatedly with a smile spread across his lips, “You know how much I love your ass. I just can’t help myself sometimes.”

“Mkay, loverboy.” You teased and proceeded to place a short, sweet kiss on his lips, grinning at the content expression that spread across Ashton’s face. “So, what did you need before you came in here?”

For a second, Ashton had to get his bearings together simply because whenever you kissed him, he felt like his feet floated above the ground (no matter how cliche it sounded) and it took a few seconds for his heart to stop beating so hard and his brain to calm down with the sudden influx of endorphins. “Um,” he mumbled as he tried to remember, getting lost in the quirk of your smile and scrunch of your nose before shaking his head. “Oh, um, have you seen my lucky boxers?”

You gave him a questioning look.

“You know, the one with the corn dogs and hamburgers on them? The background is white and stuff.”

With a shake of your head, you answered his question. “I didn’t know you had a lucky pair of boxers.”

With a sheepish smile, Ashton leaned his full weight against the counter and ruffled his hair. “Yeah, I was wearing them when we got nominated for our first Grammy, and when we won two VMA’s, when our album went platinum… I was wearing them when I met you…” he trailed off and bit his lip shyly. “And, I was wearing them on our third date, when we, you know…”

You raised an eyebrow fondly. “When you fucked me for the first time in the back of your car because we were too desperate to wait to get to my house?”

“Yeah,” Ashton answered with a bashful chuckle. “That.”

“So why do you need them now?”

He nervously bit his lip, “Well, tomorrow, we’re talking about renewing our contract and stuff and I just want that reassurance, you know?”

“Okay,” you answered him with a smile. “Let’s go look.”

You led him to your bedroom, pulling him behind you as you scanned your eyes over the area. “Alright, you take out all your clothes from your dresser and look for them there and I’ll look under the bed first.”

“But, I’ve already looked in both places.” Shooting him a challenging look, he sighed and mumbled, “Okay, fine.”

Wiggling yourself under the bed, you held your breath as you moved the various containers around full of random mementos and keepsakes, trying not to breathe in the dust that floated in the air every time you shifted something.

Not finding anything, you dusted yourself off and stood up, making your way over to Ashton’s closet. Sifting through various assorted shoes and slowly making your way from bottom to top, you searched through various button up shirts and Ashton’s nice pants.

“Okay, babe,” Ashton remarked as he placed the last pile of clothes back in their rightful drawer and turned towards you, “They’re not– wait–”

“What?” you asked, his harsh tone shocking you and causing you to accidentally pull down the pile of old sweatshirts resting on the top shelf. Immediately, they toppled on top of your frame and clunked to the ground. However a hollow thunk hit the floor with them, causing you to squat and comb curiously through the pile. After lifting an old 5sos sweatshirt from the bottom of the pile, your breath caught in your throat as your eyes settled on a teal Tiffany & Co. box.

“You weren’t supposed to find that.”

Raising your eyes from where they previously were stuck frozen on the small package, you took in the sight of Ashton nervously fiddling with his fingers and biting his lip.

“I wanted my lucky boxers because tomorrow night,” he swallowed, “After the meeting with our label, I was gonna take you to our favorite Chinese restaurant, you know, the one with the amazing fortune cookies, and… propose, I guess.”

“Oh,” was all you could muster.

“I mean, I totally get it if you think it’s too early, or if you’re not ready, but I figured since we’ve been living together for so long now, and yeah– But I get it if you don’t want to, I just–”

“Ash,” you interrupted, biting back a smile.

“Huh?” he questioned frantically.

“You didn’t even ask me.” He cocked his head cautiously at you and tried to read your expression.

“Come on,” you remarked, standing up and smirking while popping a hip. “I’m waiting.”

He giggled, honest to god giggled, and dropped to one knee in front of you, snatching the teal package up from the ground and pulling out the black velvet box.

“So, this isn’t exactly how I envisioned this happening and I haven’t rehearsed anything, but here we go.” Ashton cleared his throat, drawing a giggle out of you. “I’m gonna spend the rest of my life thinking about you, caring about you, and worrying about you, whether you’re a room away from me or halfway across the world; whether we’re twenty-five years old or ninety-thee, sitting and rotting away in a nursing home in our rocking chairs. I’m gonna worry and care and think about you whether we’re together or not, but,” he furrowed his eyebrows as if trying to chose the right words. “I’d rather do those things with you by my side. Y/N, will you marry me?”

And though his speech wasn’t exactly poetic, nor the most elaborately constructed proposal you’d heard, it was exactly what you didn’t know you wanted to hear. Quickly, you tugged Ashton up from the ground and peppered his face with chaste kisses, murmuring, “Yes, yes, yes” as he slid the ring onto your finger.

+masterlist

  • What she says: I'm fine.
  • What she means: Does everyone know about #HamforHam? Are there unlucky souls who haven't seen the glorious performances? Are they missing out on the mighty oak singing Defying Gravity as Mickey Mouse? Or Daveed playing Hamilton in Cabinet Battle #1 so he wins a rap battle for a chance? What about the three kings as the Schuyler Sisters, Daveed hoisting Ian (the little boy that loves theater) onto his shoulders while Ian raps the Cabinet Battle, or the Les Mis Confrontation scene including Lin and the understudy for Jean Valjean (the late Kyle Jean-Baptiste)?????

jaiden didn’t mean to ignore them for so long, but ever since she got home from deployment, she just wasn’t herself. she decided to just take off for a while, be alone, but after a week she knew she had to face reality once again. she walked into the loft and sighed a bit nervous of what was going to happen. “babe?” she called out dropping her bag and walking into the kitchen grabbing a water out of the fridge.

I want nothing more than for Dean to lie on the sofa in the bunker’s living room, watching one thing or another about penguins, though he’s not even paying attention anymore, and for Cas to just enter the room and not halt in his steps on his way to the couch, where - without hesitation - he plunks down on top of Dean, face in neck and sprawled on top of him, and sighs out. Of course, Dean is gonna be like, ‘What’s wrong, babe? Did something happen? Are you sick? C'mon, Cas, talk to me.’ and Cas is just gonna be like, 'Be quiet, Dean’, and snuggle deeper into his neck, so that he can press his lips behind Dean’s ear, softly repeat his 'Be quiet’ in a warm breath, sigh out again and fall asleep instantly.

And Dean has no other chance but to obey, to be quiet, and to remain motionless where he was made into a mattress. The documentary about penguins is still running, but too low for him to listen to anyway, and Cas warm and heavy on top of him is nice, actually, so he lays his arms around his bodyfriend, presses his cheek on top of his fluffy hair and simply takes a nap, too.