send him packing

theguardian.com
Migrants from west Africa being ‘sold in Libyan slave markets’
UN migration agency says selling of people is rife in African nation that has slid into violent chaos since overthrow of Gaddafi
By Emma Graham-Harrison

West African migrants are being bought and sold openly in modern-day slave markets in Libya, survivors have told a UN agency helping them return home.

Trafficked people passing through Libya have previously reported violence, extortion and slave labour. But the new testimony from the International Organization for Migration suggests that the trade in human beings has become so normalised that people are being traded in public.

“The latest reports of ‘slave markets’ for migrants can be added to a long list of outrages [in Libya],” said Mohammed Abdiker, IOM’s head of operation and emergencies. “The situation is dire. The more IOM engages inside Libya, the more we learn that it is a vale of tears for all too many migrants.”

Red Jamie and the White Lady AU - Part 1

Well, this is the random plot bunny I had earlier today. I really have NO idea where this is going. I’m really intrigued by it though, so we’ll all have to wait and see I suppose. Tell me if you think I should continue on with this or just let it die. Not sure how many parts it should/will have. 

I don’t think I’ve ever written anything with Geillis in it before, so I’m not sure how well it works. Let me know what y’all think!!


Claire Elizabeth Beauchamp was a practical woman - belief in fairy tales, knights in shining armor, and love everlasting just didn’t have a place in her life. Geillis Duncan, her best friend and roommate, was the complete opposite. Claire often wondered to herself how they’d become friends, with so little in common.

“I don’t believe you,” Geillis said one night, tossing her thick, blonde hair over one shoulder.

“It doesn’t matter if you believe me. That has no bearing on the truth.”

Geillis’ green eyes rolled hard and she finished her glass of whiskey.

“How can you not believe in true love?”

“Because it doesn’t exist! Love is just a chemical reaction between two people who find each other visually appealing. Nothing more.”

“You mean to tell me,” Geillis said, sitting forward in her seat. “That you don’t believe your parents didn’t love each other?”

The blood drained from Claire’s naturally pale face.

“That was low and you know it.”

“Just because it still hurts doesn’t mean you should avoid it. They loved each other, didn’t they?”

“I wouldn’t know. I was too young when they both died. You know that, Geillis. Why would you bring it up?”

Her best friend, and often best source of irritation, stared at her curiously.

“There’s something about you, Claire. Always has been. Like you belong somewhere else.”

Claire grabbed Geillis’ bottle of her favorite whiskey and looked at it dramatically.

“Exactly how much was in this when you started drinking?”

“I’m not drunk! But I believe you are the product of true love, and that’s a rare thing. EVEN IF,” she said loudly to interrupt Claire’s protest. “You don’t believe in it, I do. And true love is the most powerful magic in the universe.”

With a sigh, she put the cap back on the whiskey and took her empty glass to the kitchen. They’d had this discussion before, at least a hundred times. But Claire was a practical woman. True love wasn’t practical or useful.

A small part of her, and she’d never admit this to Geillis, also believed no man had yet been worthy of her love - had she any to give. Even the one she was currently seeing was a calculated choice, not an infatuation. Frank was smart, had a successful career as a university professor, and had a good future. Herself newly finished with her medical training, she saw a comfortable future with Frank. Perhaps a child or two, once they got married. He was the practical choice, a good match of intellect and physical attraction. What else was there to look for in a man?

“You talk like you’ve felt this elusive true love before.”

“And what if I have?” Geillis asked from the depths of her room. “Would that change anything for you?”

“I can count on one fist the number of men you’ve loved, Geillis Duncan. We’ve been friends far too long for you to get away with that.”

Geillis returned to the front room dressed in her favorite baggy shirt and trousers, ready for their weekly film date.

“You cannot!”

Claire held up a fist and tried to count her fingers.

“That’s… None. Geillis, you’ve never been in love with anyone.”

“That is not true! I fall in love all the time! I LOVE love!”

“Nooo,” Claire said slowly, walking down to her own room. “You fall in lust. You bring him home, shag the hell out of him, and send him packing before the sheets have cooled.”

As she, too, dressed in her sleeping outfit, she heard Geillis snort.

“Just because I fall in love all the time doesn’t mean it doesn’t happen.”

“I long for the day,” Claire said, emerging as Geillis put a DVD into the player. “When you finally meet the man you’re just meant to be with. We’ll see what you say then.”

Those too-green eyes lit and glinted at her.

“You said when. Not if. When. As if you believe it could happen…”

“It could happen to you, perhaps. Not to me. I don’t have any use for those sorts of things.”

Geillis hit play on the DVD remote, but turned to face Claire on their small couch.

“What if I could prove it.”

“Hush, Geillis. The film is starting.”

After making a sound of irritation, she paused the movie and waited for Claire to look at her.

“So? What if I could prove it?”

“You can’t.”

“But if I could?”

Claire shrugged, at a loss. She had no idea what it was Geillis was getting at.

“What if you could? What do you want?”

“I want you to fall in love. That reckless, all-consuming passion. You can’t expect me to believe that beanpole you’re seeing is a good lover.”

Claire’s face, always too easy to read and too pale, flushed deep red. Geillis smiled, smelling victory.

“I’ll have you know Frank is an excellent lover. NOT that it’s any of your business.”

“Would you leave Frank if you knew there was something better out there, waiting for you? If I could prove to you that true love does exist?”

With a sigh, Claire knew they’d never get this movie properly started while Geillis was fixated on something.

If, and that’s a very BIG if, you could prove to me, without a doubt, that true love exists and I have some bloody soul mate waiting for me out there, yes. I’d leave Frank.”

A triumphant smile came to Geillis’ lips and she settled back in her seat, smug. There was no way in hell Claire would leave Frank, though. But she knew Geillis well enough by now to know that the only way to get her to stop was to give her what she wanted.

“Good. Because we’ve an appointment with a powerful psychic tomorrow.”

Claire barely contained her moan of irritation. This wouldn’t be the first time, or the last, that Geillis had dragged her to some psychic’s shop to have her palms read. The only benefit from those trips came in the form of Geillis paying for both their sessions and taking her out to lunch after.

“Besides,” Geillis said, hitting ‘play’ on the remote again. “It’s not as if Frank’s even proposed yet.”

***

Grudgingly, Claire followed her crazy best friend into a very ordinary looking shop. There were no signs or posters anywhere advertizing it as a psychic’s place of business. It didn’t really look like a shop at all, really. Claire was beginning to wonder if Geillis had set her up on a blind date. Again.

“Geillis, if you’ve-”

She stopped suddenly when she saw a large figure looming in a doorway.

“Morning, ladies. I take it you’re my first appointments?”

“Yes,” Geillis said, popping up from nowhere. “We are. I’m-”

“Please,” his deep, strong voice came. “Don’t tell me anything. It taints the reading.”

He stepped out from the shadows and Claire looked up to meet his eyes. They were a curious shade of blue, seemingly shifting in hue as she looked at them. The hair on his head was short and bright red, with a hint of a curl at the very tips. His eyes narrowed as he looked her over.

“I’ll see you first,” he announced abruptly.

Claire was about to protest and insist that Geillis had the first appointment, but he didn’t wait for her to agree. Instead, he turned and strode off into a back room, clearly expecting Claire to follow.

“Geillis you owe me,” she hissed as she rushed after him.

“Tell me everything!” Geillis called back.

The room was nothing like she expected. No crystal balls on a red velvet tablecloth, no candles or incense burning, no dim lighting or macabre art on the walls. It was quite simply, a plain sitting room. A small table had a teapot and settings for two, biscuits, and two large, comfortable looking chairs.

“Would you like some tea, Miss Beauchamp?”

Her mouth fell open, staring up at him.

“Did-”

“No,” he interrupted. “Geillis didn’t tell me anything about you. I’m not even the one that makes appointments.”

“So what are-”

She cut herself off when he offered her a cup of tea.

“You think I’m a fraud.”

Hiding her face behind the elegant cup, she tried to come up with an answer.

“That wasn’t a question, Miss Beauchamp, but a statement of fact.”

“Oh.”

“Not your first time visiting a psychic then?”

Claire’s eyes rolled.

“No.”

She was in the habit of giving out as little information as possible. That was how the others had worked, sucking information out of you until they could lie enough to convince you to believe it.

“I’m Jamie Fraser. When you’ve finished with your tea, I’ll read the leaves.”

“No crystal balls or seance?”

He shot her a wicked grin and shook his head.

“Well we’re not here to call up the dead, are we? I was given to understand you’re looking for your soulmate.”

Yet again, her mouth fell open.

“I… How did-”

“I’m very good at reading people, Miss Beauchamp. And you are quite an easy read, more so than most.”

“How in the hell do you always know what I’m about to say?!”

“Everything you think is written across your face, plain as day. As for the other things, well… Let’s just call it a family trait. My sister also has the Sight, though not as strong as mine. Her children will likely not inherit the gift, though it could still happen. How about we take a look at those leaves, hm?”

Handing the cup over, Claire fell silent and waited. Jamie got up and pulled an old book from a table in one corner, flipping through it for reference. His brows drew down in puzzlement.

“So tell me, oh seer. Am I to meet a tall, dark stranger and go on an adventure?”

“I’ve never seen leaves like this before,” he said absently, still staring at the table. “No’ in my whole life.”

She blinked in shock at the slip of an accent. Was he not an Englishman?

“I’d like to read your palm, if you don’t mind,” he said, sitting up suddenly. “It’ll be a part of your appointment. Won’t charge extra.”

“Oh, um… Alright?”

Holding her hands out, palm up, she offered them to him. He leaned over them, tracing the lines in her skin.

“This is quite unusual indeed.”

“What is?”

“I’ve never seen a lifeline forked like this. As if you’ve a big choice to make. Neither will lead to destruction, but one is clearly the better of the other.”

“Which one? What sort of choice?”

“I’m afraid I can’t answer those. But I can see you’ve a strong will. Always a good thing in a woman.”

His large fingers still traced her hand, warm against hers.

“Miss Beauchamp, would you mind returning later in the week for another reading? I’ve a few things I’d like to research and ask some experts about. You’re quite a mystery and I’d like to get to the bottom of it.”

“I don’t think-”

“Please?”

Meeting those unusually blue eyes, she watched them shift and change.

“Al-alright.”

“Thank you. I’m afraid I’ve taken up yours and Geillis’ appointments and my next client will be here soon.”

Claire sighed.

“Something tells me Geillis won’t mind.”

“Have a lovely day, Miss Beauchamp.”

***

As soon as the women had left the house, Jamie slipped to the back and went up the stairs. He lived on the floor above where he met clients. Most were what anyone would expect, people seeking to remove the veil of mystery from the future. Few came looking for real answers and fewer still came and didn’t believe any of it.

But this Claire Beauchamp… He was sure they’d never met before, and yet he knew her. Knew her face, the way her tawny eyes evaluated the words he spoke. Somewhere in his mind, he knew the taste of her full lips, knew the feel of her body beneath his. He knew the sounds she made in the throes of passion, or her grunt of irritation when something didn’t work the way she hoped.

There was no other appointment after Geillis and Claire, that had been a lie. But he needed to check something, just to be sure. Throwing open the door to his library, he went straight for a shelf he’d scarcely looked at in five years.

Each leatherbound book had a date on the side. They were his dream journals, or the dreams he was sure had been visions. He hadn’t had a dream like that in some time, not since his father’s passing, but he had a niggling feeling.

Closing his eyes, he opened the book and began turning the pages without looking. He suddenly stopped, feeling that he’d reached the right place. When he looked down, his heart began to beat erratically.

Sketched on one entire page was the woman he’d just met with. Her gaze was piercing, even in a sketch, and he felt as if she was looking right at him. The dark, curling hair was wild around her, not fully contained on the page. Her lips curved with the hint of a smile, like she knew something he didn’t.

Hastily, he turned the page. Only a short passage was written on the back.

I must find her. I have dreamt of her every night for a month, in flashes. I do not know her, but I know she is my very soul. She is the only person I might love. For the White Lady born of True Love could be the only match for Red Jamie. I. Must. Find. Her.


Continue to Part Two

an-axe-for-the-sea-within  asked:

Hey there, I really, really want to re-read a fic that I was stupid enough not to bookmark, so I have no idea what it's called or who it was written by, so I thought - maybe someone recognizes the one I mean? There's an alternate reality/universe, and another Stiles magics himself over because in his reality, Derek died, and he just wants him back, and in the end the pack send him back to his reality, and it leads to happy endings for both Stereks involved. Does this sound familiar to anyone?

We think you’re probably looking for In Some Way, I’m There With You by TroubleIWant!

Scott slows to a jog as he sees Derek upright and moving, but Stiles keeps running hard. He slides to his knees on the dirt and moss next to Derek and grabs at his shirt.

“Der?” he asks, over-loud and panicky. He’s oblivious to the gore around them, even though he’s kneeling in it. His hands flutter over Derek’s shoulder where the bite is already healing, patting his chest and face like touch is the only thing that will assure him Derek’s truly in one piece. “Derek, are you okay? Talk to me, say something, please.”

Derek’s not sure what to do with all this unexpected attention, and fights the urge to brush the probing hands away. He’s taken worse in fights before, which Stiles must know. Though, he supposes, they’re something different to each other now.

OR

After years of assuming Stiles would never want more than his friendship, Derek is pleasantly surprised to be drawn into an intense relationship with him. Being with Stiles is good, great even. But then why, exactly, does it feel like they’re more distant than ever?

anonymous asked:

drunk paladin headcanons?

Pidge: Pidge gets very defensive of their right to drink. Everyone reminds Pidge that they’re underage, but Pidge is convinced they can hold their liquor. They, in reality, can not, at all. So usually they end up passed out first, but they’re tiny, so one of the other Paladins will put them to bed, make sure they’re on their side and let them sleep it off. They are the only lucky Paladin who doesn’t get hangovers, and everyone else is jealous. 

Hunk: Hunk gets clingy. He’ll hang onto anyone who will let them and kitty paws onto their arm for as long as they’ll let him. The only one who’ll let him do this for more than a minute or so is Shiro, who’s too nice to tell him to stop. Hunk can hold his booze the best, something between his sheer size and muscle mass allows him to last the longest even when drinking hard liquor. 

Lance: Lance’s flirting skills somehow get better when he gets drunk, like normally he’s all cringe-y pick-up lines and fake grins, but the moment he’s tipsy his lines all click together and he’s far more flattering. Allura’ll still send him packing fast, but Lance has managed to even make Shiro blush a few times. After getting hit a few times by both of them, he spends more of his time with Keith who gets flustered at as little as Lance leaning into his space. 

Keith: Keith’s a bit of an angsty drunk. He has his fun, but then he’ll start to slow down the more drunk he gets and retract in on himself. It’s uncommon for him to be face first on the table sobbing when he’s had too much, so now all the Paladins make it a habit to cut him off at five so he stays that nice happy buzz. It won’t happen if someone starts flirting with him though, he’ll be too flustered and stuttery to think about sad things. Plus he gets all wide eyed and soft looking, which lance likes a lot. 

Shiro: Shiro gets dad drunk. Not in the, taking care of everyone way, but in the vaguely harassing everyone for the shit they’ve put him through kind of way. He’s generally happy, but all of his jokes suddenly become “remember when I had to bail you out of jail”-esque, especially with Keith and Lance, because they’re the ones he’s had to babysit the most. He’s also completely willing to cling to someone if they’ll let him, but mostly at the end of the night, so he ends up crawling into bed with people sometimes. 

Bonus:

Allura: Allura gets all quiet and giggly, just smiling a lot and enjoying everyone around her so much. If you get her talking, she’ll start gushing about how lucky she is to have or have had such great people in her life. 

Here you are anon! I hope you enjoyed!! I honestly really think they’d have a lot of fun all drinking together, maybe after they defeat Zarkon!

Have a Jerome x Reader teaser

not the Jerome thing I was intending to work on today but I have been dawdling on this one a long freaking time maybe sharing a teaser will kick my ass in gear on it.

tagging : @multi-villain-imagines  @bidennisreynolds  @queencobblefreezestuff  @aya-fay  @dv8n666ways  @moaningvaleska  in case they are interested

Warnings for profanity, mild choking, possible jealousy, afraid for life, discussions of previous sexual activities, implied future death, Daddy Kink?, if I forgot something let me know

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In A Moment

Summary (One Shot)

Kara is grieving over the loss of her fiance, Mon-El. She reminisces the life she had with him, while questioning whether she will ever be able to move on.


Posted On:  AO3   &   FFN 



The clock read 1:41.  

Kara flipped to the other side of the bed where the clock could no longer taunt her. She tightly clutched a plaid shirt in her hand, the dampness increasing as another tear streaked down her face. Each sob that racked her body was caught in the shirt. Her fierce grip made it impossible to determine where the shirt began and where she ended.

She constricted her body into a fetal position with one simple goal: to achieve numbness. Alas, her Kryptonian physiology and the yellow sun would prevent a cool wave from washing over her. She simply wished to stop the constant pain that surged in her body. However, the numbness never came and the grief continued to suffocate her. Each heartbeat reminded her of what she lost, who she lost: her friend, her companion, her lover, her partner, her fiancé. Mon-El.

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@reioka replied to your postYou know how in  A/B/O, Dom/Sub, and (sometimes)…

So what you’re saying is, Clint leans against a wall “sexily” trying to seduce Tony, does not realize the wall is actually a door, and falls through said door with a high-pitched yelp that has Tony giggling. (Tony is also turned on because honestly his kink is people Trying For Him.)

Oh yes. Clint would probably be trying to casually flex his biceps as he does it too. In fact, that’s probably why he completely forgot where he was in relation to the door/wall, and ends up falling through. 

Gasp! Or!!!!!!! It’s 150% intentional! He knows Tony’s kink is people trying to sincerely win him over, but what always makes Tony laugh and endears people to him is when they fumble in doing so. It’s even more of a turn on when they fumble, but try to correct themselves/are earnest in their attempts. Admittedly, there is a line when those attempts become too much and start to have the opposite affect, but Clint’s observant (usually) and has been around Tony long enough to know what will delight Tony and what will send him packing. 

anonymous asked:

rhodey is off on his first deployment. tony makes it his mission to send him helpful and creative care packages.

The first one was actually pretty thoughtful. Rhodey’s mom had sent him a care package, a huge box full of home made cookies and granola bars, bottles of sunscreen, magazines, hard candies and decks of playing cards. It must have cost her a fortune to put together and mail and the guys in Rhodey’s unit are suitably appreciative. Packed inside the box is a smaller one, with his name written in Tony’s familiar block letters. Rhodey saves that one for last and opens it in the relative privacy of his bunk just before lights out. It’s a pile of comics and four little hand-held electronic games. They have the SI logo on the back, but Rhodey’s never seen them before, which makes him suspect Tony had sent them from his own collection of prototypes.

Wherever they came from, they’re a hit with the guys. Not that Rhodey lets anyone play until he’s beaten each one.

They pop up here and there. A box full of condoms and lube (not sent as part of his mother’s care package, thank God) one month, the next Tony sends him a hundred teddy bears to hand out to the local kids. Sometimes it’s porn, quality stuff that Rhodey’s squad is a little too eager to get their hands on. Sometimes it’s five hundred back issues of Batman. Rhodey never really knows what Tony’s going to do from one month to the next, but there’s always another package waiting for him.

Sometimes they pile up. Sometimes he’s not in a place where he can get mail, or at least not where anyone outside the military is allowed to find  him. When he gets back, there’s always the appropriate number of packages waiting for him. He can tell how worried Tony is about him by how sentimental the most recent package is. One time, after he’d been incommunicado for weeks, Tony sent their MIT year book and he’d written hundreds of little notes throughout, all of them reminders about some class they had shared or some person they had known or some trouble they had gotten into. “Remember this?” Tony had scrawled across Tiberius Stone’s smirking face. “He tried to have you expelled for cheating so I threatened to report him for corrupting a minor and he tried to beat me up so you showed up with the entire Air ROTC and they chased him halfway across campus.”

He’d gotten a hold of a satellite phone that night and spoke to Tony in person for the first time in months.

As Tony gets older, the packages get a little more mature. He starts sending video game consoles and blu-ray players, boxes full of DVDs and ipods. Sometimes hundreds of clean socks and underwear and - after Rhodey had pointed out that there were women in his unit too, by the way - women’s cotton briefs and hundreds of packages of tampons. 

Body armor. Stark Industries had always made weapons, but the body armor that starts coming in Rhodey’s care packages is top of the line, highest quality stuff and it has the SI logo on it. Other units start wearing it years after Rhodey’s does. 

Tony sends him boxes packed with dry ice and gelato. Boxes with an entire season of Star Trek: Deep Space Nine on VHS, each one labelled in Tony’s precise handwriting.

Sometimes he just sends hundreds of letters, some of them just little notes scrawled on cocktail napkins, some of them dozens of pages long, all of them addressed to Honey Bear or Golden Graham or Turtle Dove.

And then one day Tony disappears after an insurgent attack. The soldiers assigned to guard him have been gunned down and a blood splattered suit jacket is balled up by the side of the road.

Three months go by without a package. Rhodey checks - he fucking checks because if Tony could get free, or give some sign that he’s okay, that might be how he does it - but there’s nothing. Rhodey himself barely leaves the dessert, burns every favor he’s ever been owed, begs a dozen more from every commanding officer he’s ever known, and they let him stay to lead the search for three long desperate months until even Rhodey is starting to think that this is less of a search and rescue, and more of a recovery mission.

And then Tony is back, a goddamn mirage in the middle of the desert. He’s half-dead and twenty pounds lighter than the last time Rhodey saw him, but he’s the most beautiful thing he’s ever seen.

“How was the fun-vee?” Rhodey says because anything more serious sticks in his throat. “Next time you ride with me.”

Tony is smiling at him, soot smearing with the blood on his face. He’s burnt red from the sun and it’ll hurt like hell soon. But he’s smiling like Rhodey’s the best thing he’s ever seen. “I realized I forgot your care package,” he says as he slumps against Rhodey’s shoulder, his hands gripping the back of Rhodey’s uniform so tight that he’s half-convinced he can hear the fabric ripping. “Thought I should come deliver it in person.”

“You’re all the care package I need.” Rhodey lays one hand flat against the side of Tony’s head and presses a fierce kiss to one of his temples. “Jesus, you dumb fuck. I thought you were dead." He starts to laugh, just a little, nerves and tension easing for the first time in months. "You are the most beautiful thing I’ve seen in my entire life, man.”

“Aww, Honey bunch,” Toney says, and that’s when the rest of the team catches up with them. 

Exactly a month later a small box arrives with the base mail. It has Tony’s writing, as familiar as Rhodey’s own, across the front. 

Inside are photos, hundreds of them. And each one is of Tony.

Dear Pumpkin, the letter reads, since I am the most beautiful thing in your life, it seems wrong to force you to go for months at a time without basking in my beauty. PS: the nudes are toward the bottom, I know how nosy your squad is

Two of Rhodey’s men are already digging through the box, hoping for Tony’s usual treats. Rhodey figures they deserve what they’re about to find.

anonymous asked:

Why do you think that Mr. Tilney is often overlooked? Do you know if has a bad habit? (like mister Darcy and his pride)

I think Tilney is probably overlooked in comparison to more romanticized adaptations simply because Northanger Abbey doesn’t get the same treatment in media as, say, Pride and Prejudice, or even Sense and Sensibility or Emma. Catherine is the youngest heroine, a teenager, and her story is more a coming-of-age plot mixed in with literature meta-snark, and the vibe with Tilney is significantly less tortured and dramatic than what we often see with the stormy Elizabeth Bennet/Mr. Darcy dynamic or the angsty parting between Marianne/Willoughby or Elinor/Edward. (Until Catherine gets tossed out by General Tilney in the middle of the night but the whole point is that her expectations about overwrought romanticism are wrong and while hearts can still be broken the business of life is on the whole a lot more caught up in the little practical hum-drum things and the human experience just kind of goes along with all of that.) Bearing in mind that Catherine is a teenager and Northanger Abbey a lesser-known novel (comparatively speaking,) its adaptations are on the lighter side of things, with more comedy and restraint.

Cathy doesn’t rage at Tilney and send him packing after a disastrous proposal, nor does she make herself deathly ill when Tilney abandons her–the stakes are much, much lower (superficially) for Catherine Morland and Henry Tilney. Sure there’s still the risk at the end that they’ve been parted forever and Catherine has only just realized her folly and how much she cares for him and things look pretty bleak for her on an emotional level, but everyone keeps it together pretty pragmatically. I think the story’s focus on Cathy’s personal growth and the light comedy lowering the overall stakes makes it less emphatic in adaptations, including any portrayal of Henry Tilney. It’s just nowhere near as easy to nudge the characters into the Torrid Sex Appeal category (by modern day standards Cathy is a minor so anyone writing that portrayal of her character should be keeping an eye on that while justifying the differences between our time and Austen’s,) and Henry Tilney is a clergyman. Their romance is gentle, funny, playful. They’re both very young, friendly, pretty well-adjusted. The barriers to their happiness are miscommunications and the mild meddling of self-centred, worldly people. It’s pretty understated, on the whole, so I think that whole tone is why Northanger Abbey is less popular than some of the other books, and, consequently, Tilney is less popular than Darcy.

Stamps

Oh look, I have written another story that wasn’t in any of my to-do list. And it’s all @lady-mephistopheles​ and @agent-eggy​ the bestworst enablers ever. Early this week we were talking a bit about this post in relation to Hartwin and well, I couldn’t resist. And then I got to talk with @insanereddragon​ about it too and it went in a new direction that I really wanted to write about. So yeah, this is it, enjoy ;)

Stamps

The thing with having your sense of self-confidence shot to hell, is that even if you manage to do one thing right, it doesn’t restore it.

You feel good for a day or two if you are lucky, but after that you’re back to doubting every little actions that you take.

Harry might have helped take down Poppy, but what if it had only be a fluke? And it wasn’t like he had done it alone. It had been a team effort.

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New Year, New Surprises

Summary: You meet a charming stranger named Steve at a New Year’s party and try to make it until midnight.

Request: So, it’s not that I don’t love all the Christmas stuff going around, but are you planning on writing something New Years. Like two people get REALLY DRUNK and end up together then wake up the next morning like “um…. well… happy new years?”

Warnings: swearing, allusion to smut (no actual smut, just lots of sexual tension and kissing)

Word Count: 2696

Author’s Note: Ok! I wanted to mix it up so I made a Steve x reader story! Eeeeep! It’s my first one really, so feedback very much appreciated.

Originally posted by lookprettyliveclassyplaydirty


As far as you’re concerned this year can kiss your ass, personally, professionally, globally. Truly. Which is why you had RSVPed yes to this New Year’s party weeks ago fully intending to spend the last minutes of 2016 in complete and utter alcohol-induced oblivion.

You’re well on your way to executing that plan, lifting your third Manhattan to your lips and taking a careful sip. Leaning on your elbows on the bar, shoulders hunched, you’ve dryly dismissed every overly cheery advance, every ostentatious proposition and slick offer of another drink.

You’re quite pleasantly buzzed when you roll your head, attempting to iron out the stress that’s settled in your neck and shoulders. Your thoughts are interrupted by a clear, deep voice. “Wow. That ready for next year, huh?”

A bitter laugh ripples through your throat, “You have no idea.”

Keep reading

🎵 Aladdin (Broadway) Soundtrack Starters  🎵

  • Whoa, I got a little deep there for a second.
  • Come for the hummus, stay for the floor show!
  • Even the poor people look fabulous!
  • I could use a friend or two.
  • Next time, I’m gonna use a nom de plume.
  • I think I’ll take a stroll around the block.
  • Sometimes it’s just way too easy!
  • So say I’m slow for my age, a late bloomer, okay, I agree.
  • There’s no good reason that you should believe me.
  • I can’t make myself taller, or smarter, or handsome, or wise.
  • How can someone love me when, in fact, they don’t know me?
  • Honey, I’ve never seen somebody who needed to get out more.
  • Am I prepared for what’s outside?
  • Let’s boogie!
  • Have you ever wondered what it would be like to take off and never look back?
  • There won’t be any obligations or fathers to obey.
  • When you choose to lose yourself who knows what you might find.
  • After a million miles or so, we’ll find out who we are.
  • You have the profile of a prince with a physique that matches.
  • Truth be told, you were not quite the guy that we were expecting.
  • Take one step and die, you brainless miscreant!
  • It just tears me apart to see her slip right through your fingers.
  • You might be a bum, but you’re one of noble spirit.
  • We don’t have time for self discovery!
  • How about a little more baklava?
  • I’m in the mood to help you dude.
  • Welcome to Dancing with the Scimitars!
  • I’d like to bring the house down a little bit. Sing a few old classics, couple favorites of mine.
  • Gimme a doggy bag, I’m taking it home!
  • It’s just not working, boo.
  • Are you gonna love this guy!
  • Genuflect, show some respect down on one knee.
  • All those elephants at once can quite unnerve one.
  • I absolutely love the way he dresses!
  • He’s got the monkeys! Let’s see the monkeys!
  • There’s a whole world you’ve yet to see.
  • When did you last let your heart decide?
  • I can’t go back to where I used to be.
  • Let me share this whole new world with you.
  • Couldn’t we just send a strongly worded letter?
  • I hate weapons because–this thing is AWESOME.
  • They’re playing music while we’re fighting.
  • My finger’s bleeding.
  • Danger to danger we go flying, completely unafraid of dying.
  • You don’t mind if I squeal do you?
  • I’ll free you in one second, I just want to sing this one little verse.
  • This is the start of a fine bromance.
  • We’ve got your back and sing back up too.
  • So how did this happen to me?
  • His personality flaws give me adequate cause to send him packing on a one-way trip.
  • The changes we made were slight.
  • A whole new world, that’s where I’ll be!
  • I just love a happy ending!

anonymous asked:

Can you write a Dybala imagine where he hates you but sees you flirting with someone and gets jealous so he tries to make you jealous? Ps I love your blog so much it's literally my fave 😍😍❤️

again, this didn’t go the way i planned but i hope u like it tho?? also if u want me to write a 2nd (smutty) part to it, let me know! 💕


He watched as the guy’s hands snaked around her body, holding her close to him as they talked. Her beautiful hair shimmered in the dim light, a dark red satin dress hanging from her body in all the right places. She laughed at something the guy said, silvery and clear, her plump lips stretching into one of her breathtaking smiles and her slim fingers tracing a seam on the guy’s suit.

She was driving Paulo insane.

Quite literally maybe, because before Paulo knew it, he was standing next to Paul Pogba, a glass of bubbly in his hand and a groan falling from his mouth. And all of this because of some girl he couldn’t even stand.

“Who is that guy?“ 

Paul, who had been busy filling his plate with a few mini pizzas, jumped at the sound of Paulo’s voice. “Merde!”

“Sorry,” Paulo said as he picked up one of the mini pizzas himself and then, after looking at it for a second, popped it into his mouth. Living in Italy had many perks.

“How often do I have to tell you not to sneak up on me?” Paul added with a shake of his head before he continued, “What guy are you talking about anyway?”

“This one over there.” He nodded in the direction, making a face.

It took Paul approximately zero point two seconds to catch on. With a big grin plastered on to his face, he turned away from the buffet to face his teammate. “Oh, you mean the one talking with Y/N?”

Choosing not to fall for Paul’s games, Paulo merely hissed, “Yes.”

“I think that’s some sponsor’s son. Pretty sure I’ve seen him on one of those Juve events before. Why are you asking?" 

“No reason.” 

Paul nodded, still grinning. “Sure.” 

Taking another gulp of his champagne (it was mid-term and they still had to play quite a few games until the break, but he figured that one glass wouldn’t get him into trouble), Paulo’s gaze darted back to where Y/N and that guy stood, still talking to each other, still standing close. 

Jesus Christ, it was annoying. He was annoying. And by ‘he’, Paulo meant himself. Why the hell was he acting all … weird? He’d never liked Y/N, and she’d never liked him. Everyone knew that. So why was there this strange heat clawing its way up his neck, blinding every one of his rational thoughts and making him feel like his tie might strangle him any second now? 

Plus, this wasn’t fair — Paulo and Y/N’s relationship had always been two-way. They both disliked each other, they both didn’t care about each other, they both avoided each other. It was all mutual. So how could it be that now, he seemed to be the only one bothered? 

Chewing on the inside of his cheek, he watched as the guy’s hand slipped down Y/N’s side to rest at her hipbone. 

Paulo’s heart hammered against his ribcage. 

“That’s enough,” he mumbled under his breath. 

Paul shot him a confused look, a semi-chewed mini pizza coming into view when he opened his mouth to speak. “What?” 

Paulo walked over to the bar. His plan was childish, he knew that. What he didn’t know was why he had even come up with it in the first place, or what he wanted to accomplish. Still, he continued to walk — towards a girl. 

He’d met her before. Her name was Sophia, she too was a sponsor’s daughter, and she looked like the type of girl every man would like to sail down Venice’s canals with — long black hair, tan skin, long legs, red lips. Yeah, she was gorgeous but she didn’t make his heart pound. 

“Sophia,” he said, leaning against the edge of the bar and lifting two fingers lazily to let the barkeeper know he wanted two more glasses of champagne. Sophia turned, her green eyes glistening in the low light. 

“Paulo, hey.” Her voice sounded too sultry for his liking already. It was too easy. 

“Thank you,” he told the barkeeper when he got his drinks, and handed one over to her. She smiled when she took it from his hand, letting her fingertips graze the back of it. God, was she reenacting every single rom-com? Despite his already kicking in boredom, Paulo moved closer to her body. He just hoped she wouldn’t send him packing — that’d be embarrassing. 

“Good season so far?” 

“Your father probably wouldn’t be sponsoring us anymore if not.” He knew he was being rude and he felt bad immediately after the sentence had flown from his mouth, but Sophia merely laughed and shrugged, not looking irritated in the slightest. 

“Probably, yeah,” she agreed, tucking a strand of her hair behind her ear before she added, “So, are you still single?” 

Paulo nodded. “Why wouldn’t I be?” 

“Well, you are very good-looking.” Sophia’s hand moved from her hair to his. Slowly, she ran his fingers through it. Paulo hoped her father wasn’t close enough to see this — he had a feeling he most likely wouldn’t like seeing his daughter flirt with one of his players. “But I figured you’d be dating this Y/N girl by now.”

At that, Paulo froze. “What? Why?” His eyes flickered over to where Y/N was, now sitting next to that guy from before; she had all of her attention fixed on him. Obviously, Paulo’s plan was a total success. He huffed. 

“My grandma always used to say: ‘The quarrel of lovers is the renewal of love.’ Which pretty much described your entire relationship.”

“Nah.” 

Sophia smiled. “Whatever. So, why did you come here?” As soon as she was done speaking, her smile widened, suggesting that she already knew the answer anyway. 

“You know why.” 

“Oh, so you want to repeat last year’s activities?” Activities. Paulo almost rolled his eyes. Geez, he really was very sullen today. 

But then, out of the corner of his eye, he caught sight of Y/N standing up. She looked like she wanted to walk over to the bar — where Paulo and Sophia still were — and stopped dead in her tracks. Paulo didn’t dare turn his head to see her more clearly, to watch her reaction and what she did. So instead he kept looking at Sophia.

Maybe he overdid it by letting his gaze trail the length of her body before he replied, but he did it nonetheless. “Oh yes, I do.” 

Just as Sophia was about to say something, Paulo felt a new presence next to his body. He looked over and — there she was. She looked so good in that dress. She looked so good with her eyes twinkling at him. She looked so good with her eyebrows raised. God damn it. 

“What are you staring at?” Y/N asked. 

Paulo turned away from Sophia to be able to look at you without straining his neck. “You. That dress. Your cleavage. Are you trying to impress someone?” 

“You’re gross. And no.” 

“Really?” He heard Sophia groan behind him but didn’t bother to turn around.

Y/N sighed, her eyes becoming softer but her nice voice turned sharper. “Okay, you got me. I was hoping to impress you, of course.” 

“Knew it,” Paulo said, stepping closer. He listened to Sophia’s heels clattering on the marble flooring as she walked away. “The way you look at me gave it away.” 

“That was intentional. I wanted my ardent longing for you to finally stop and I figured that that could only be done by you realizing I have deep feeling for you.” 

Paulo smiled, moved into her space and curled his fingers around her slim hip. His blood burned in his veins. “Yeah? Want me to stop that longing now?”

This time, the softening of Y/N’s eyes looked less fake. They looked as if there was a storm behind them, and it captured his gaze, holding him still and in place. He couldn’t move. Which was probably for the better, considering a lot of that boiling blood of his had rushed south. He took a deep breath when Y/N looked up at him with a knowing smile tugging at the corners of her plump lips. 

“You’re turned on.” 

“Yeah.” 

She didn’t seem to have expected that answer because her neatly plucked eyebrows shot up, and her mouth opened a little. She stared at him. Paulo could practically hear the wheels rattle in her head as she got lost in thought. 

“Okay.” 

Paulo narrowed his eyes. “’Okay’?” 

“Yeah. Let’s get out of here.” 

He smiled. “Okay.”

MORE of the things POTs say when they’re trying so hard not to pay!  (Part II)(Updates: 3/11/16, 9/8/16)

This is a follow up to my post on The things POTs say when they’re trying so hard not to pay!

 In that post, I identified eight types of “POTs” who are bad news.  It was a list of “POTs” that will NEVER treat you fairly and want only to deceive you and take advantage of you.  They are con men.   Nothing but trouble.  Radioactive. To be avoided at all costs! By identifying their tactics you can learn how to avoid them entirely and spend your time focusing on real POTs who can turn into real SDs.  That initial list consisted of the following:

The “Scientist” POT – the guy looking for “chemistry” and “compatibility” before “commitment”

The “Romantic” POT the guy who does not want an arrangement to be transactional

The “Puritan” POT – the guy who does not want to pay for sex because he’s not a John and you shouldn’t be an escort

The “Boyfriend” POT – He wants to “spoil” you, as long as that is cheaper than paying you

The “Doubting” POT – He wants to know what “he’s getting for his money”

The “Race Car Driver” POT – The “test drive” is all he’s after

The “Cautious Shopper” POT – He wants to “see the goods” first and wastes your time shamelessly, never wants to pay for the goods or your time

The “Penny Pincher” POT – The classic salt

When I finished that list, I knew that my work was not done.  I knew that I had not covered all of the “bad actors” who pollute the Sugar Bowl and hurt so many SBs.  Over the next couple of days, I continued to think about it and I am proud to provide you with a supplement to that list – four five six additional categories of men that are predators on the hunt.  And, I am also delighted that I had help with a two three four of the categories and I have provided the appropriate shout out to my collaborators!

The “Scammer” POT

The scammer is real scum. He plays to the SBs who let money cloud their judgment by making totally outlandish promises.  The naïve SB takes everything that this “older gentleman” says as the truth, and, to get that big hunk of sugar, she will literally do anything he wants.  He epitomizes the phrase “if it is too good to be true then it probably is”.  Signs to watch for:  

In his initial message, he says some shit like, “I am willing to pay 5k per month to start” or “I am willing to pay the right girl an allowance of 5k a month”.    Yeah, right!  No legitimate SD phrases an initial offer like that; that “language” is crafted by a man who has no money, but thinks he knows what you want to hear. And a lot of SBs fall for this nonsense because they let money cloud their judgment and they have on rose colored glasses, so they hear what they want to hear and see what they want to see. If you get a substantial offer like that out of the blue, carefully read the language.  Forget about how badly you want it to be true!  Analyze the message critically.  Notice the grammar, the sentence structure and ask yourself, “would a gentleman who is truly schooled in “high finance” or business say something like this?  And if your conclusion is no, drop the guy!  If you ignore him for a bit, watch how he reacts!  He’ll show his true colors soon enough!

He promises to send you 10k via wire transfer and he coyly asks for some nudes or other initial tokens of your appreciation, and in your excitement, you are too happy to comply. Off go the nudes to him, but the money never comes in to you!  Or, along the same line, he meets you in person and gives you this song and dance about all his companies, all his money, all his houses and boats and how all of it can be yours!  Before you know it, you’re drunk from the wine and his sweet words, and you agree to his suggestion that you head back to his place to “celebrate” the huge allowance that is coming your way tomorrow.  The fact that his hotel is a 2-½ star joint kinda registers in the back of your head as being an odd place for such a rich man to stay, but, by then, it’s too late!  After a good fucking (for him), he sends you packing, and you never see a dime.  

Finally, there is a sinister scammer as well.  He is the guy who is typically located in another city and flies you to him.  He promises you 10k or more for a three day weekend.  You pack your stuff, get on that plane and fly off to him.  After he picks you up at the airport and whisks you to the hotel, you realize that you are his prisoner for the next couple of days and he gets his money’s worth out of you, but you get nothing from him.  

The “Employer” POT

@blondeblogginbeeyotch is the author of this category, and I thank her for coming up with this!.  Her description of the “Employer” POT is spot on and perfect and is quoted here in full:

“There is also the POT who says he will offer you a legitimate job as their ‘Personal or Executive Assistant’. They will have you uproot yourself and move to their city and state where you know no one and have no support systems in place. They will offer you an Employment Letter guaranteeing your compensation but the trick is they will never officially sign it for you. Once you are moved in and thoroughly out of your element THAT is when they will break out their perverted real predator mask and if you refuse to do their bidding - they will ‘fire ’ you and refuse to pay you your salary aka 'allowance’.

I think this is technically sexual trafficking across state lines? This particular guy should be in prison.”

The “Inquisitor” POT

My “inspiration” for this category comes from something I saw posted by @omgwtfmia recently, and, after I read her post, I realized I had to include this in my list!   So, the “Inquisitor” is super annoying, gross and creepy.  From your first exchange, all he can do is talk about sex and he asks you endless questions about the types of sex you “are into” and will engage in with him. He wants to talk details, I mean TMI details!  And, what makes it so … gross, unpleasant and distasteful .. is that you have never met the guy and, already, he is talking in such intimate, graphic, dirty, non-sexy terms that it is making you wish that you didn’t have a vagina!  The guy is real loquacious when it comes to talking about his kinks and fantasies and how he wants to “lick your clit till you explode”, or make you choke on his huge cock etc etc ad nauseum, but he gets real quiet and unresponsive if you can keep from barfing long enough to ask him what he intends to pay as an allowance for this freak show.  Do yourself a favor, block the Inquisitor as soon as he starts with his shit!

The “Browbeater” POT

This guy is just mean, rude and nasty.  From the get-go he is pushing you around, whether it is in his messages or at the initial meet and greet.  He is domineering, aggressive, demanding and obnoxious.  If he doesn’t like your response to his text he is like immediately in your face, demanding an explanation, an apology, a retraction. He argues endlessly.  He is possessive and jealous and accusatory. Dealing with him is like dealing with an abusive boyfriend or significant other.  He gets passive aggressive.  He uses money like he uses his dick:  as a weapon.  The shocking thing to me is that this guy does get laid!  So, please, when a Browbeater darkens your computer screen with an aggressive message, get out of his sight!

The “Ghost” POT

@soflasugar contributed this addition to the list.  She dubbed the guy as the “Ghost” POT, a type of POT that ends up being a real time-waster.  Here is her description:  “This is the man who leads you along and may give you small amounts of money but when it comes time for your full allowance he totally disappears. He won’t answer calls, texts, or emails. Frustrating and annoying.”

The “Prince Charming” POT

This category was inspired by an anon in What do you make of a POT who literally says "I am a good looking guy” in his About Me section? He says more but that simple sentence makes me feel like he’s just a douche waiting for his next free fuck…

This guy fancies himself to be a “Real Looker”; I mean, he believes that he is just so damn handsome and sexy that you will want to have sex with him just to be able to say, “yeah, I fucked this really hot guy!”  Forget about allowance!  The sheer enjoyment of fucking “a pretty boy” is payment enough!  

Before you meet him or see his photographs, he will tell you that he is a “good looking guy” and soon enough he will tell you that girls are always so attracted to him that he never has to pay for sex.  He’s a real “Lady’s Man”; when you meet him in person, he will turn on the charm, flatter you, give you his patented “disarming smile” and ask if you want to feel his muscles, lol.  He’ll be a lot of fun on a date.  The words that he says are almost as pretty as his face!  

However, his pretty words never include the topic of money; he never talks about allowance and artfully dodges the question when it is raised.  Instead,  he will work hard to charm the pants off of you!  And, if and when he succeeds, you’ll find that, unlike the real Prince Charming, this guy turns into a toad AFTER you kiss him!  He’ll be happy to hang out with you as often as you like as long as he gets to fuck for free!


I really think that this list, now consisting of 12 13 14 “personality” types represents a fairly comprehensive list! Let me know if you have encountered some ugly demon that I have not identified!  I will continue to update this list and will post a separate “Update Notice” to give all of you a “heads up” when something is added!

Update History:

03/11/16:  added “Ghost” POT

09/08/16: added “Prince Charming” POT

Broken

Requested by Anon. Thanks for the request doll. Hope you enjoy it!

Sorry no smut. Didn’t think it fit.




8:30 came and went with ease. Juice was suppose to be here by now. You were cooking dinner and had a huge surprise for him when he got home. So you drove over to TM.
“Hey doll, what are you doing here so late”? Tig asked.
“I’m loooking for Juice, he said he’d be home at 8:30 but here it is midnight”.
“Haven’t seen him, he may have went out with Hap or someone”.
“Yeah, he should have called or something”. “Right”?
“He should’ve yes”. “Just go home, when he gets here I’ll kick his ass and send him packing”.
“Thanks Tiggy, but first I have to pee”.
“Um, here use my room”.
“Tig I can use Juice’s”.
You opened the door and saw your Old Man with a filthy whore croweater riding on top of him. The look on Juices, Tigs and the croweaters face was shocking.
“Y/N, its not what you think”. Juice said wrapping a sheet arouond his waist.
“Shut the fuck up and you whore get the hell out”!
“Tig get her out of here”.
“Which one”. Tig laughed
“Its not funny man”. Tig grabbed the croweater by the arm leading her out.
“You fucking son of a bitch”!
“Y/N, let me explain please”.
“There no way you will get yourself out of this one Ortiz”. You screwed up for the last time".
He walked closer to you. You punched he chest and slapped him repeatedly. Tears flowing down your face. The moment was ruined.
“I made you dinner, had something to tell you and you go and plow a croweater really”.
“I’m sorry, you dont understand.
"What, I dont understand. Please enlighten  me”. You were yelling now, getting angrier by the second.
“I’ve had a lot on my plate with the club and you aren’t helping either”.
“What have I done to deserve this”. You motioned up and down Juice.
“You’ve put on some more weight, people are making fun of us”.
“Oh BOO HOO HOO, you fucking pussy, man up and you want to know why I’m getting even bigger now is because I’m pregnant, you fucking asshole”.
Juice’s face became ghostly white, he stumbled on to the bed.
“Are you sure” Juice said quitly
“Yes I’m sure and I’m damn sure your the father so dont got playing that game with me”. “Thats what I was going to tell you over dinner”.
“Holy shit, I’m sorry Y/N I really am”.
“Yeah well I’m leaving and you can stay here tonight”.
You walked out, leaving a crushed Juice in hes dormroom sobbing. Tig apologetic smiled as you left. Driving home, you didn’t want to live there anymore. You hated the idea of having a family there with anyone.
You unlocked the door,walking straight to your room and grabbed your suitcase. Throwing all your clothing in one and your toiletries in the other. As you finished packing you heard the rumble of a motorcycle. JUICE.
“What are you doing Y/N”? Juice said leaning on the door frame.
“I’m leaving and nothing you will do or say will change that”.
“Your not leaving me and taking my kid”. He started throwing your clothes and threw your suitcase at the wall.
“I’m leaving, you still can see the baby”.  You pleaded with him
“I can’t live with out you”.
“Your gonna have to try because I can’t take this anymore”. “Your never home and I need a husband and father for my child that wont screw up every five seconds”.
“I’ll try to be better please”. He begged
“You should have tried a long time ago”. “Bye Juice.
You walked out that night and never went back. Juice was there for the birth of our daughter. He grew up since she was born. He’s been around more and its starting to feel like old times again. But we are still broken.

I honestly hate Mon-El

Like I hate him. I think he’s an annoying, stupid, inconsiderate, jerkfaced fuckboy, and I can’t stand him.

Kara sure as hell deserves a whole lot better!

She actually has better. James and Winn are both clearly still in love with her; James might be being kind of reckless and chauvinistic with his whole ‘Guardian’ thing this season but it comes from a good place and he’s always shown that he genuinely cares about Kara; and Winn is her “best friend in the world” – and that is an actual quote from Kara in the episode “Livewire” – and he’s so brilliant and sweet and thoughtful and protective and has shown time and time again that he would do literally anything for Kara; and those two are just the hetero options. 
She also has Lena Luthor - kind, smart, sophisticated, lovely Lena - making heart eyes at her at least once every other episode.

The writers should either start writing Mon-El as wonderfully as they write all the other characters on this show or send him packing back to Daxom, ‘cause I feel like he is literally everything that is wrong with this season so far.

I am not down with Mon-El/Kara. Just. No. Please no.

Originally posted by meganhyunhee

Seokjin - 

Practice had been rough that day. From early morning till noon he’d been working twice as hard for their upcoming events and their lunch break felt like a heaven send. You’d packed him a large lunch and gave him a sweet kiss that morning before he left. Words couldn’t describe how excited Jin was to see what you’d made him. He opened his lunch box was was pleasantly surprised to see a note on top. He grinned as he read it and to the end he was smiling softly with a shimmer in his eye. He picked up the neatly wrapped cookies and pressed a kiss to them. He’d never ever know what he’d done to deserve you.

“Jinnie, I know you’ve been working hard lately. So I packed a special surprise in with your usual lunch! Enjoy! With love, [Name].”

Originally posted by nevermindmyg

Yoongi -

Work, work, work. He’d been in the studio all day mixing and composing. You’d come in a few times to try and convince him to eat something but his response was always “later” or “in a bit, jagiya”. He didn’t notice that it had been a while since you came in, too focused on the flow he was suddenly riding. He didn’t hear you set something beside him until you were already gone. The sweet smell hit his nose and brought him out of the zone. Yoongi peered to his right to see you’d placed warm, freshly baked cookies beside him. Each with their own encouraging message written in icing that had him smiling his gummy grin. They were sugar cookies too.

“Suga fighting!!”, “You can do it Yoongi!”, “I love you!”

Originally posted by fyeahbangtaned

Hoseok -

He and the rest of the group were dancing their hearts out when the door to the practice room opened. No one paid you any mind, too engrossed in their practice. You were able to slip in and out, leaving your surprise on his bag. When Namjoon called for a break the all collapsed to the floor in relief. He was going to his bag to pull out a water bottle when he noticed your note and gift on top. He read the note and smiled genuinely, all his tiredness leaving him. He wanted to kiss you and thank you for your sweet words, but he had all the time in the world for that when he got home. For now, for you, Hoseok was going to do his best.

“Hobi, don’t forget to drink lots of water, okay? You’re the best but you need to look after yourself! J-Hope fighting!”

Originally posted by yoongijae

Namjoon -

He had only been able to see you briefly that morning. He’d woken up late again so it was a rushed escape out the door with only a quick kiss goodbye. He was thinking about ways to make it up to you all through his recording session when he was told there was a package for him. When he was given a tin with a small note on it he smiled despite himself. He knew your handwriting anywhere. He pulled out a chair and sat down, reading the neatly written words and feeling his stomach twist in knots. The same feeling he got when he first spoke to you. He didn’t know how he’d been so blessed to have you come into his life, but he wanted to show you he appreciated you just as much  as you did him.

“You’re a great leader Namjoonie! Make sure you don’t run yourself out though okay? Eat these cookies, I want a kiss for each bite it takes!”

Originally posted by princessjiin

Jimin -

It was during a break in practice that you strolled into the room. He happily stood up and greeted you with a kiss, teasing you that you shouldn’t love someone so sweaty. He was interested in why you came to check up on him when he knew you had other things to be doing when you placed the gift into his hands, gave him a sweet kiss and scurried out. He was puzzled but opened the brightly colored box and could have cried at it’s contents. He took a few steps to try and follow you but vowed that after work he would treat you like royalty to repay you.

“You’ve been working really well these past few days! I’m proud of you! But please make sure you’re eating well too okay? Please don’t get sick, I love you!”

Originally posted by chimmychimm

Taehyung -

He was about to get on a plane to their next show when you slipped him a prettily wrapped gift. You told him not to open it until he was on the plane and even had him pinkie swear. The curiosity was killing him all through boarding the plane and when he opened it he nearly tore the plastic wrap holding the cookies. The note fell and when he picked it up to see just what it said he could feel his heart melting. He was worried about leaving you alone even if it was for his treasured ARMYs but your sweet words did their job in easing his nerves. He held the paper close to his chest, knowing that he was going to treasure it throughout his trip.

“I know you'e worried about me, Taehyung, but I’m going to be watching every single show. I’ll support you no matter where you go. I’ll see you soon, honey! Yours, [Name].”

Originally posted by nevermindmyg

Jungkook -

Stress had been getting to him lately. His normally bubbly and self assured nature was replaced by tiredness and quietness. He wasn’t expecting much when he was sitting backstage but when he saw yo approaching he felt the load on his shoulders lighten. You couldn’t stay long and neither could he, the show was about to begin but you assured him he had time for the little parcel you placed in his hands. You both shared a sweet kiss and a hug that was perhaps a bit longer than it needed to be before you ushered him to open the gift and left to wait in the dressing rooms. When he pulled the ribbon and it revealed a treat and a sweet note, he felt he could have married you on the spot. He happily ate a few of the cookies before the show, feeling his mood do a complete turnaround and he was ready to make you fall in love with him all over again.

“Take it one step at a time okay, Kookie? You can rely and me and your hyungs. I’ll see you after the show! Your number one fan, [Name]!”