he's doing so well lately

Teacher || Min Yoongi

Originally posted by relationshipwithbts

Word Count: 1.8k

Genre: Fluff

“Sangwoo, can you come here for a second?” The boy looked up from where he was drawing in the back of the class and locked eyes with you. He was sat alone in the corner, away from the other kids and it broke your heart to see him like this. Sangwoo was usually active with the other kids and used to always participate in class, but lately he had been pulling away from everyone.

The boy cleaned up the items he had been using and he slowly got up from where he was sitting. The sluggish movements of the six year old worried you and a frown came across you face. His eyes seemed to be locked on the ground as he walked towards you, not wanting to make eye contact. The action seemed to be his way of hiding from you and you sighed, slowly crouching down to his height.

“Sangwoo, do you have something you want to tell teacher about?” You asked. You hoped the words would be enough encouragement for the boy to speak but the words he said weren’t the ones you had been looking for. You became even more worried as you heard the words that left his mouth and you wondered if something was going on at home.

“I’m not in trouble, am I?” Sangwoo questioned. His tone made your heart clench and you quickly shook your head, cancelling all fears of his. He seemed to calm down a little bit at the fact that he wasn’t in trouble.

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*wheezes* (Please click for better quality…!!)

Very late, but I wanted to get this dang thing finally over and done with ;A; For Day 4 of Voltron Week: Day Off/Vacation. The Paladins have some time off so Allura starts teaching them one of her favorite Altean pastimes: dancing! 

Meanwhile Coran… the little princess he took care of is not so little any more, and all these Altean dances bring back memories and it really hits them both that they are the last to pass on their traditions to others…sorry my thoughts got a bit heavy– also! First time drawing Coran!! 

Wrapped Around; pt.5

Jimin x Reader x Tae // College!AU // 12.6k words

Originally posted by jeonsshi

Summary: Freshman year was a mess and sophomore year doesn’t seem to be looking too good either. You know boys like them are no good for you but maybe they’re just your kind of type

Genre: Fluff, Angst

A/N: weow 1 month later here is part 5!! thank you for your patience ya dumplings (’:

Part 1 | Part 2 | Part 2.5 | Part 3 | Part 3.5 | Part 4


Tae was right, he warned you to watch yourself around him and you felt so dumb, so hurt that you had let yourself become one of those girls. You had sworn that you wouldn’t let Jimin get to you but here you were sitting in your bed feeling as broken as all the other girls that had slept with the player that was Park Jimin. Stupid, stupid you.

Glancing at the time on your phone, you pick up the pace of your steps. Your cousin had given you 10 minutes to get to the restaurant before he makes you buy your own meal. The cold winter air bites at your skin as you sprint towards the entrance of the diner, hoping and praying that the heater had been turned on to its highest setting in there. You were so cold that you were sure your fingers were going to fall off at any point now but damn it you’d do anything for free food.

Stepping into the diner, you let out a sigh of relief at the wave of warm air that hits you. Honestly, how can anyone enjoy winter when it’s so horridly cold? You shrug off your hood, eyes scanning the establishment as you look for your cousin.



“Mina,” You smile stiffly as you watch her drape her coat over the back of her chair.

“You made it!” She beams and you hesitate for a while before walking over to take a seat next to your cousin who only looks at you in shock. “I told you she would!” She exclaims, turning to your cousin who now had his head in his hands.

“Crap, I can’t believe you actually got here in time,” Your cousin groans as he pulls out his wallet to count the number of bills he had. “Remind me to never underestimate your will when it comes to getting free food.”

“I told you not to bet against me, didn’t I?” You laugh, trying your best to cover the look of disdain as you sit across Mina, envy running through your veins at the mere sight of her.

“Whatever,” Your cousin huffs, dismissing you with a wave of his hand before he turns to Mina. “What’re you doing here so late anyway?” He asks.

“Well I could ask the same,” She quips.

“We had a busy night so we got up pretty late.”

“Huh, what a coincidence… Me too,” She smirks and you let your fingernails dig into your palm, wishing nothing more than to wipe that smirk off her face.

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booze in the time of prohibition (reader/1920's AU)

(So here it is! Yes that title is a book reference, I’m a word nerd. Anyway, I might write a sequel to this, because I adore the premise. Enjoy!)

An ordinary night. An ordinary, warm, summer’s night, where streetlights bathed the pavements in a harsh glow and the world seemed to be so alive and so dead all at once.

An ordinary night in 1925, where you would break the law for the first time in your life.

Everyone was doing it. Prohibition wasn’t doing anyone any favors, so there was no time like the present to try it. You were dressed to the nines, outer layers peeled off in response to the weather. You had planned out an excuse just in case you were stopped on your way there by a policeman. “What’s a young thing like you doing so late at night looking like that?” He would inquire.

“Well, sir, I’m on my way back from my cousin’s wedding, sir. I don’t mean to be any trouble.” A fairly cunning lie, and you knew it. You would keep walking, knock at the door, mutter the password, and slip off into this secret world.

The thrill of getting caught was a wonderful, bone-shaking, stomach churning thrill. Almost the same thrill as when the cold, metal door was pulled open, and you slipped inside.

“The Blind King”, the bar was called. A small, cosy joint on the edge of town. It was your first time there, but all of your friends had recommended it.

“You’ve never been to the King’s? (As it was affectionately dubbed.) The music is amazing, the bartender is almost psychic, the patrons are great chat. And the poker? Challenge the King. Go ahead.” Your friends had told you the password and put in a good word for you last time they were there. So there you stood, looking in through the door into the eyes of a tall, tanned man.

“Password?” He asked in a deep voice, almost at a growl.

“Um… ‘R-Regalia.’ That is the password, right? Weird word.” You replied, almost inaudible. Your heart almost jumped out of your chest when you heard the door unlatch.

You took a good look at the man as you were ushered inside. He was a large, tattooed man, with a scar over his eye.

“You’re new. The name’s Gladiolus Amicitia. Call me Gladio.” He held out his hand, and you cautiously took it. Any regrets you once had melted away when he flashed you a toothy grin. “We get to know all our customers: we’re like a family. What can I call you?”

“(Y/N). It’s my first time at one of these… clubs.” You gazed around at the cozy decor. The place was fairly busy, and you picked up on dots of chatter, interspersed with wafting smoke and a deep laugh. The smell of a pleasant musk drifted around the room, spiced and soft.

“Well, enjoy yourself. If anyone gives you trouble, just gimme the word and I’ll take care of them.” Gladio gently pushed you off, taking your coat from you and leaving you standing in the middle of the small room. You found yourself wandering over to the bar. You perched on a stool, still searching the room and attempting to take the atmosphere in. You were brought out of your daydream by the noise of a man clearing his throat.

“Are you going to order something, or am I to guess?” A well dressed man with a thick accent and a pair of glasses caught your attention as he dried a glass with a pale towel. “Ignis Scientia. I’m the resident barman.” He smiled politely, setting the glass down and looking you over. He had a sophisticated air about him that was unfamiliar to you.

“Surprise me, Mr. Scientia. This is my first visit to one of these places, so I’d rather let you do the choosing.” You gave him a smile of your own, a smile that grew wider when he gave you a pleased nod.

“A Sidecar it is, then. Or maybe a Whiskey Sour… No. A Sidecar.” He set about collecting bottles and glasses, and began to almost effortlessly construct the drink. As he poured, he began a conversation.

“So, what brings you to our humble corner of the world?” He joked, beginning to shake the drink.

You answered, but the man in the corner of the room, at the microphone, caught your eye. He had a mess of shining blonde hair, and he sweetly crooned melody after melody with his eyes closed. He seemed to be away in away world of his own, irreverent and nostalgic.

“My friends told me this place was the best in town, so here I am.” He suddenly slid a glass over to you, tapping your hand.

“Your Sidecar. This one is on the house. Enjoy.” You took a sip, and when you hummed in pleasure, he allowed himself a chuckle. He had managed to get the balance exactly right, leading to a smooth, delicious drink.

“And him, over there?” He pointed at the man you had been watching. “Prompto Argentum. Our house musician.” You rolled the name over your tongue a few times. It sounded pleasant, like that of a film actress or a broadway starlet.

You thanked Ignis for the drink, bringing it with you as you looked for a table to sit at. Suddenly, someone tapped your shoulder. You turned around to see a suited man, with a mop of messy black hair and soft eyes.

“The name’s Noctis. Noctis Lucis Caelum. They call me the King.” So, here he was. “Stupid name, I know. I’m the poker guy. New patrons have to play me in in a round, so we can get to know each other. It’s tradition. You win? All your drinks are on my tab tonight. Sound good?”

The entire bar hushed, and you looked around for any response. Gladio motioned to urge you on, and so you sat down at his table and set down your drink. A new sense of bravado, you pulled a cigarette from your pocket and lit it, holding it loosely between your fingers.

“Let’s go, Your Highness.”

anonymous asked:

Me and my bf didnt do well lately so he decided to end it and just keep in touch. The next day I was going away for 2 months so we kinda ended up fucking at his place. I blew him, we fucked standing, on the couch, I was so wet and he was so hard. Then, he made love to me while looking me in the eyes, I told him to. After that we smoked some pot and he took me home. Even though he wanted to end it, he wants me back and I can see it.

Yesterday my sister accidentally said “drof me opp here” and it took me a while to figure out what made her say that.

nilesdaughter  asked:

Sending a sensory prompt for Cullen and Verana for DWC! "The smell of freshly baked bread."

Finally finished this one! I had a lot of fun with this prompt; thank you, niles! Hope you enjoy! :)

For @dadrunkwriting, featuring my canon f!Trev and Cullen. SFW. Approx. 1800 words.



“Oh, come on!”

Cullen crossed his arms and closed his eyes in exasperation as he leaned back in his chair. “No, Sera,” he repeated firmly, trying not to grit his teeth with impatience at the elf’s pestering, “I am not going to prank Verana.”

She rolled her eyes at him. “Pshh! Pull that cob out of your arse, would you, Cully-Wully?” He opened his eyes again and glared at her when the elf sing-songing the nickname she had so graciously bestowed upon him. But before he could tell her to get out of his office, she leaned forward into his desk and added, mischief glinting in her eyes, “I heard about what you did with her and the Nightingale’s favorite birdy, yeah? I know you have it in you, so no use pretending you don’t.”

Cullen’s lips pressed together. Of course she had heard. Who hadn’t? The word had spread like wildfire throughout Skyhold, just like they had intended, and, by grace of the Maker, the spying and eavesdropping had come to a complete halt. What he hadn’t anticipated was Sera treating it like an opportunity to inject her own bright ideas into his relationship with the Inquisitor. As soon as she had perceived the stony façade of “uptightness” crack, she had inserted herself as if she had a right to be there.

“Sera,” he said slowly, as if speaking at such a pace would be easier for her to understand. “Even if, Maker forbid, I somehow wanted to do such a thing, I can’t. She is the Inquisitor. I am her Commander. I can’t-”

“Yeah, yeah, right. Just like you can’t snog her like you did at Halam-whatever,” she snorted derisively, pushing away from the desk again. “Or here. Or in the War Room. Or in the armory. Or-”


The growl of warning actually seemed to get some sort of response, then, as she abruptly stopped and put her hands on her hips, a look of annoyance crossing her face. “I get it. It’s not the Inquisitor thing at all. Ser Was-A-Templar doesn’t want to make his Lady Sweetness angry at him. One little tiny fear stopping all the fun.”

He shook his head and focused on the quill in its inkwell in front of him. “Your idea of fun and mine are obviously two different things, Sera.”

“That’s the truth. Keep it up, and you’re gonna need bigger breeches. Because apparently you’re all arse.” After but a moment’s pause, she suddenly broke into a fit of uncontrollable giggling as she apparently pictured that very image in her head. Her face turned red and she doubled over, slapping a hand on top of the desk and threatening to knock his lighted candle into the pile of notes beside it.

He abruptly snatched the thing up and set it well out of harm’s way. “Sera, if you have nothing more to do, then please-”

“All right, all right!” The elf held up her hands, taking a few shaking breaths to suppress her laughter. “Look…it’s simple. You don’t have to do things just to make people look around or get theirs, yeah? Sometimes, it means something different. Sometimes, after the ‘I can’t believe’ and ‘Oh what a mess’ you have a good laugh and then the real fun starts.”

He noticed the mischievous grin spreading across her face, and he sighed heavily. “Dare I ask what exactly you mean?”

She smacked her hand to her forehead. “Hopeless. Absolutely hopeless.”


Maker, he wished Sera had just come out and said it to start with. Had he known she was just trying to help him spend more time with Verana – in a good way – he might have agreed to her request much sooner.

As the smell of freshly baked bread wafted from the Inquisitor’s desk drawer, a smile tugged at the corner of his mouth. It had been ingenious, really. Verana had been holed up in her quarters all day, catching up on reports and writing out orders, answering letters from concerned nobles, and checking ledgers. According to the servants Sera had overheard, she hadn’t eaten a bite since she had awoken that morning before dawn. She needed food, and needed someone to deliver it to her, but she wouldn’t ask the servants to do it or leave her quarters to get it herself.

Cullen knew how much Verana loved Cook’s honey rolls. They were pure warm comfort…crusty on the outside but feather-light inside, quite yeasty in flavor, and glazed with the thinnest layer of fine honey. Just the thought of them made him want to sneak one of the little treats for himself, but no one in all Skyhold could ever stop at just one, and his friendly prank would be ruined.

He watched her carefully as he made a haphazard pile of crumbs atop the desk and put the empty platter aside, propping his feet up beside it to adopt a casual pose, reports in hand. She had fallen asleep sitting up in her bed, her head fallen to the side and her raven hair spilling down the headboard like a black waterfall. She was still in her nightgown, coverlet pulled up to her waist, a heavy book propped on her lap and a pile of notes and letters beside her. Her inkwell had nearly spilled onto the scarlet velvet, and he had made sure to stopper it before it fell over, bringing both it and her quill back to a safe place on her desk before beginning to set the stage…

She stirred, the smell of the bread no doubt waking her, and he quickly schooled his expression, focusing on the paper in front of him with brow furrowed. He heard her straighten, groaning as her stiff neck protested the movement, yawn, stretch…


He lifted his head slowly at her sleepy question. “Yes, love?”

Her brow furrowed, and she ran a hand through her adorably-mussed hair as she looked at him with drowsy amethyst eyes, “What…? She trailed and glanced to the window, noticing it was night. “What are you doing here so late?”

“Well,” he began, the response not precisely a lie, “Cook sent me up here. Word has it you haven’t been eating, and she made a little something to quell your hunger…”

Her eyes widened, and she put a hand to her stomach. “Maker, I’m starving! And I smell…wait…” she paused, and a bright smile lit up her face as she shoved the book aside, threw back the coverlet, and slid off the edge of the bed. “She made her famous honey rolls, didn’t she? Oh, I love those far too much for my own good. She’s such a dear for remembering-” she stopped mid-stride. “Why are you giving me that look?”

Her eyes fell from his face to the empty platter on the desk, and then slowly lifted back to his face again.

“You didn’t.”

He pretended to try and refocus on the paper he held. “Yes, well…you know how they are. And you know that I tend to go without eating as well when duty demands. And I might have needed a little something to keep my stomach from digesting itself while waiting for you to wake up…”

“And you ate them all.”

He didn’t answer.

Her face fell, and for an instant he wished he hadn’t even considered Sera’s suggestion. The look she gave him broke his heart, and he had to fight to keep from ruining it all. Maker, why had he let himself be talked into doing something so uncharacteristically foolish? He would much rather have had her call him a gluttonous pig and set his hair on fire than give him a look like that.

“Cullen…how could you?” she asked, and the tone of her question rent him even more inside. “I understand they’re irresistible…believe me, I do. And I understand you were hungry, and I don’t fault you for eating one or two. But…all of them? How many were there? And you didn’t leave even one for me?”

Not waiting for a response, she sighed and spun towards her wardrobe. “I suppose I’ll just have to raid the larder, then.”

While her back was turned, he slowly eased the desk drawer open, lifted the bundle that held the rolls inside, spread them back out on the platter, and, as quietly as possible, rose to his feet with it in hand.

“I have a better solution.”

She was busy thumbing through her blouses and didn’t even look back at him. “Oh, do you, now?” She answered flatly, obviously annoyed.

He gently tapped her on the shoulder and she whirled around, nearly knocking the plate out of his hands. But when she saw the half-dozen fresh, palm-sized rolls there, completely intact, she froze, and he could have pushed her over with a feather. As he waited with baited breath for her response, he felt as if he could just as easily have been offering his actual heart on the platter instead of mere rolls.

“You…what…oh, Cullen.” She put her head in her hand and shook it in disbelief.

He smiled gently, “And you can have them all to yourself.”

Verana promptly took the plate from his hands, moving to sit on the edge of the bed and putting it in her lap while giving him a wry smile and a chuckle. “You know, you really had me there, playing the careless hungry Commander. My, my, what a prankster you’re becoming. Sera would be proud.”

Damn right I am!

The sound of the rogue’s voice came from somewhere on the roof.

“I should thank her,” Cullen remarked, giving her his trademark smirk and watching as Verana picked up one of the small rolls between her thumb and forefinger. “It was she who gave me the convenient excuse I needed to come up here.”

You? Thank Sera?” Verana said incredulously through the bite she just took. She chewed, swallowed, and added, “Now I really do know the world is coming to an end.”

“Well,” he leaned closer, covering the hand she had propped on the bed with his own, “If it is, at least we have each other, right?”

Verana tossed the roll back on the pile and set the plate aside, scooting up next to him and curling her other arm around his neck to pull him nearer. Her blue-violet gaze was soft as she answered, “Yes. Yes, we do.”

She kissed him, then, and her lips tasted of honey.

Shit APH Australia Does #39

Actually shows a lot of sportsmanship in Rio rather than his usual competitive side, mostly because America won’t stop bragging to anyone he can get a reaction out of

halfbloodwitch  asked:

SMILE!! (We haven't seen your wonderful face in a while!!)

Is this okay?

Revision hasn’t been very kind to me. I’m taking James’ advice but that involves staying up quite late, somewhat even later than I did last time around. Albus is doing strangely well so far. I think he’s stayed up late so often he’s become a sort of learned-insomniac. 

Oh well. It’s all for the sake of good grades, isn’t it? And you know what women love (besides good looks, which I apparently already have according to only the GREATEST MAGIZOOLOGIST IN THE WORLD)? Intelligence. See, it’s all coming together now. First she realises how ~ handsome ~ I am (well, usually am, I’m sure these bags will clear up after I finish my exams), then she sees my twelve– mmm perhaps a little ambitious, let’s say ten OWLs, and then she sees the true, caring, passionate person I am under all that. Foolproof. 

Sketchy Times in the Mojave!

     It would about midday, and Eliot had to stop for a second to lean on his partner a bit, over come by a coughing fit. It lasted a couple minutes, and didn’t look good from the red the spilled from his mouth. Eliot panted a bit, letting go of his current companion and gave her a slight blood smile.
      “Sorry.. Haven’t been doing so well lately..” He said with a horse voice, before using a now red rag to wipe his mouth clean before putting it away and drinking some water. “Mind if we sit down for a bit?.. I just need to catch my breath real quick.”