these two pictures showed up side by side in my folders

BTS Reaction to: their S/O sending pictures of lingerie during their practice

Thank you to anon for the request!

***I do not own any of the gifs***


This boy almost wouldn’t be able to handle it when you sent him a few selfies of you in pretty black lace. He’d swallow passed the dryness forming in his throat, try to blink away the rush washing over him. His body would be jittery suddenly, squirming in his seat while Jimin sang in the booth before him. Something akin to embarrassment would paint his cheeks with roses, not that he didn’t love it when you teased him like this. He simply wasn’t used to your bold actions and it made him feel like his head was spinning whenever you pulled a stunt like this. The images would surely come as a surprise, catching him off guard especially in the middle of recording. Still, he wouldn’t deny that it ignited a fire in the pit of his stomach and made him much too eager to get home to you so he could love you down. He’d take a soft breath before texting back, the ghost of a smile burning amidst his flushing face.

“You look so beautiful! But you don’t have to send pics, I like it when you surprise me. I’ll be home soon.”


If you sent a picture to Yoongi during his practice, especially if he was in the middle of writing, you couldn’t expect a text back right away. The photo you blessed him with would be a lavish treat, one he would certainly want to reward you for, but he’s too level-headed and submerged in his work to tell you right away. He would glimpse at his phone when it lit up next to where he was scribbling lyrics, leaning back a little in his chair and allowing a chuckle to slip from the back of his throat. A smug smile lifted the corners of his lips as he licked them, taking his precious time drinking in the sight of you. After a moment, he’d lock his phone and set it back next to his work, face down this time. As much as he cherished every moment of your digital sensuality, he would need to finish whatever he was working on before allowing himself to indulge in you. But as soon as he could, he wouldn’t hesitate to tell you just how appreciative he was.

“I love it so much when you send me texts like this. Fuck, I can’t stop staring at that photo. When I come home, why don’t you sit on my face and let me show you just how thankful I am for everything you do for me, baby?”


Hobi would be in the middle of going through a dance routine when he decided he needed to catch his breath. He’d be skimming through his phone, patting down his glowing face with a towel, when he’d spot your message in his notifications. Instantly his heart would race, eyes lighting up behind his lashes. A bright grin would overtake his face, heat crawling up his neck and nestling in his chubby cheeks when your picture filled up his screen. He’s the type to forget the nature of the picture and its intent to turn him on. Instead, he’d go straight to overly-affectionate boyfriend mode who cannot comprehend the beauty that was his significant other. He’d be so giddy, so amazed by you, so enraptured and smitten.

“Oh my god!! That’s my baby!! Holy shit you look so good, you’re breathtaking!! How did I get to be so damn lucky!! I cannot believe I have the most beautiful significant other in the entire universe!!” A plethora of heart emojis would be scattered between all of his sweet compliments, and he’d be beaming for the rest of the day.


Teasing Namjoon was all too fun, especially when you knew it would be at the most inconvenient times. The threat of punishment that always followed your teasing riled you up in ways you never failed to take advantage of. Namjoon was spending some time with the rap line, working on a new song for the upcoming comeback, when his phone buzzed in the pocket of his souvenir jacket. He ignored it at first, assuming that you had simply forgotten that he was at work and would retract into waiting for him as soon as you realized. However, when his phone buzzed not once, not twice, but three more times, he cleared his throat and glimpsed apologetically between Hoseok and Yoongi before meekly requesting for a short five-minute break. Standing up to take a step away from where they sat on the grass, he reeled out his phone and unlocked his messages only for blood to jolt south through his body.

Texting back at a ferocious speed with a clenched jaw and furrowed brows, he warned, “Princess, keep teasing daddy like this with that pretty lingerie and you’ll get punished when I’m done at work. But that’s what you want isn’t it? I know you love it when I spank you.”


Jimin would react in one of two ways, depending on his mood that day. Some days he is the small, shy mochi that blushes profusely at the smallest things, and other days he can kill a man with just a quick side glance through his blonde fringe. More often than not, he’d love the thrill of you sending explicit pictures during his practices. The possibility of one of the other boys seeing you like that, sprawled out on the sheets and sitting pretty for him, made his blood rush. Noticing his phone going off in his pocket, he’d slyly fish it from his tight jeans and keep it hidden beneath the table as he unlocked it. Nerves were tingling in spine as he squinted at the bright screen, only to inhale sharply and quickly lock his phone back up. Only Jungkook sitting next to him seemed to notice his strange behavior, nudging his arm a little. Politely excusing himself with a nod of his head, he’d step out, legs feeling heavy beneath the weight of his arousal, dark lashes fluttering on his flushing cheeks. 

“My beautiful, sweet baby. I can’t wait to come home and push those pretty panties to the side so I can taste you. Would you like that? My tongue on you for hours?”


Taehyung is an absolute tease himself, so moments like these where you teased him were dangerous. He always found a way to bite back with ten times the suffering. It was during a water break mid-dance practice that he picked up his phone from the floor, mindlessly swiping through the messages until your contact name sparked his curiosity. The small picture preview seemed promising, and he was quick to unlock his cell, eyes trained on the device while he tilted his water bottle and gulped down the refreshment. Once loaded, he choked, spluttering on water and eagerly zooming in to see every detail of your body presented to him through the text. Nervous eyes scattered around the room, ensuring that none of the other boys would notice his disappearance. His fingers clutched his water bottle too tight, choking the plastic the way his jeans were his hardening dick, as he pushed into a stall in the nearest bathroom and locked himself in. It took him a few tries to get his jeans unbuttoned with how his hand was shaking with excitement. His lower abdomen was exposed, fine lines chiseling his body, free hand snaked beneath the confines of his clothes. He wanted to show just enough to make your stomach flip, to dangle the threat of pleasure just out of your reach.

“Oh sweetheart, you look SO stunning in that red lace. Had to sneak away from the boys and find a little relief. You’d better still be wearing that when I get home.”


Jungkook can be pretty cocky, so whenever you would send him pictures like that, he wouldn’t hesitate to save them. He probably has an entire private folder on his phone just for pictures of you, the ones that make him bite his lip and clench his jaw and breathe a little heavier. Whenever you send them to him, doesn’t matter when, he feels his ego boost ten fold. He would be fiddling around on his phone during practice while Tae and Jimin worked out a part of the chorus together when your name popped up on his screen, already painting a bright smile on his face. That smile would falter and muddle into a sly smirk at the sight before him, the boy quick to hit the save button and wet his lips with the tip of his tongue. While the others worked, he’d continue to savor the image, letting it burn into the back of his eyelids so that all he’d have to do to see you so perfect and needy for him is close his eyes. Taking a moment to suck in a puff of air and let out a soft hum from the back of his throat, he’d feel his body heating up as he shot back a quick reply.

“Where did you get that? It looks so fucking good. Jesus Christ. Have any more pics you want to send me, babylove?”

~ Admin Tris



Some Gifts Come Unwrapped


Warning: smut

A/N: sorry this took so long, and i’m not even sure it’s any good. but the best way to get past writer’s block is to write, which is weird, but here ya go lmao

You couldn’t keep your eyes off it, scared that if you’d blink it would disappear. It was beautiful and luxurious and everything you’d dreamed it would be. After pinning an endless supply of pictures of the seemingly unobtainable automobile in your “future car” folder on Pinterest, it was completely and utterly surreal that it was now perched in front of you in all its glory, tied up in a satin red bow.

“It’s white.” It was hard to breathe. “You remembered.”

“Of course I remembered.”

Keep reading

Institute Business with Mr. Lightwood and Mr. Bane

When Alec awoke it was to the sensation of having a dream within a dream. It seemed like that was how it was every morning that he woke up to the soft satin of Magnus’ sheets draped lightly over his body, Magnus’ solid form curled into his own. He would wake up from a dream, a beautiful dream, the kind colored with hues of gold and cream, with the sounds of the ocean and memories of laughter from his younger years. He would wake from a dream so beautiful it seemed impossible to top, and then he’d wake up, and somehow he’d become conscious to a world even more beautiful than the one his mind had conjured up for him.

At first, he assumed he’d awoken only because his mind had run out of beautiful pictures to show him, but he soon realized it was Magnus’ stirring that had pulled him from his dreamland.

Without opening his eyes, Alec mumbled, “good morning, Mr. Bane.”

Magnus pushed further up in bed. “I’m sorry, Alexander, I didn’t mean to wake you”

“No,” Alec tried to dictate despite his face still being half-shoved into the tan-gold pillow cases of Magnus’ luxurious bed, “Don’t be. I’m glad to just,” he breathed in the honey-rich scent that followed Magnus like a trail of pixie dust, “lay here. With you.”

Magnus rested his hand on the side of Alec’s face that wasn’t enveloped in a pillow, stroking his thumb lightly across Alec’s cheekbone. “And so would I, darling shadowhunter, but I have warlock business to attend to and-”

“No,” Alec said again, eyes still shut, almost defiantly, as if he were rebelling against leaving the bed. He changed his grip on Magnus, so that instead of his arm resting lazily across the warlock’s bare chest, he used both of his arms to grip him like a vice. “No moving. Just… Just lying.”


Alec raised one thick eyebrow (or maybe he raised two, Magnus couldn’t tell with Alec’s face shoved into the pillow), “Magnus…”

Magnus smiled, but began to try to break through Alec’s grip, “If you would kindly… just… remove… your.. VERY strong arms… from around my waist… I could just..” Each word was punctuated by a flex of his upper body to try to release Alec’s grip on him, “breakthrough…” Finally, Magnus escaped Alec’s body-lock by simply inching downward until he had slipped out the bottom of Alec’s encirclement. “Then I could get to work.”

Magnus was reaching for his robe when Alec finally opened his eyes and leaned across the bed to grab Magnus’ hand. “Might I remind you, Mr. Bane, that as the Head of the New York institute, I can arrest you for not heeding the words of a high-ranking official?”

Magnus smirked, his competitive side getting the best of him as he intertwined his fingers with Alec’s and climbed over to him with his knees on the bed, “and might I remind you, Mr. Lightwood, that as the High Warlock of Brooklyn, I could kick your pretty butt?”

Alec looked up at Magnus, who was towering over him now that he was kneeling on the bed and Alec was lying down. He shifted his position so as to look Magnus in both his shimmering yellow eyes. “Oh please, Mr. Bane, show me what it is you intend to do.”

“Well,” said Magnus, one knee now on either side of Alec’s hips, a pair of Alec’s sweatpants hanging loosely from his own strong legs, “first, I could hit you with a spell, right here.” He ghosted a hand over Alec’s exposed stomach, “and the magic would spread, all through here,” he used both hands now to trail a path from Alec’s stomach to his hipbones.

“And then what?” Alec asked with a smirk tugging at the corner of his mouth, still able to put a teasing tone behind his words, despite his level of distraction.

“And then, shadowhunter, I would knock you off your feet, literally of course, and pin you down, so that you were underneath me, as you are now.”

Alec closed his eyes for a second, feeling the crackle of electricity Magnus now had running through the air, whether from magic or wanting Alec couldn’t really tell. “And after…?”

“Next, I would tie you down, and then remove myself from you like so…” Magnus swung his leg back over Alec’s body so that he was no longer straddling him. “And then…” Magnus trailed, placing a firm hand on Alec’s chest, trailing a finger through the hair there, “I would runawayandgettowork!” He said the last part as quickly as possible so as to not give the dreamy Alec time to react as he hopped off of the bed and almost ran to his office, grabbing the book he needed on the way in.

Alec sat in shock for a moment, letting his eyes flutter open to the sight of the empty room, the hook Magnus’ robe usually sat on now vibrating from the force with which the robe was removed from it. “He didn’t,” Alec whispered to himself, or maybe to the robe hanger, he wasn’t sure. “You didn’t!” he called to the apartment, and to Magnus in the other room. “You sneaky little…” Just then, a call came in on his phone, whom the caller ID identified as Jace. Alec picked it up and held it to his ear.

“Hey Jace, can you give me just one second? I have to attend to something. Institute business, you know.” He set the phone down on the table as Jace was saying his “yeah yeah of course,” and Alec stalked from the room, yelling as he went.

“Magnus! You can’t get past me! If this is because you thought you heard me snoring again, I’ve told you a MILLION times I don’t snore!”

Jace smiled down at his phone, the folder in his hand forgotten. “Institute business.” Of course.

Weekend Stay for Prospective Students

Weekend Stays for Prospective Students in Elsewhere University are something that had to be planned cautiously, from what places to show to what to put in the introduction pamphlets (not just information, other things too), and who were going to be Tour Guides and Hosts for the students.
Being chosen for one of these jobs was an honour and a curse. To be a Guide, it was given that you should be knowledgeable about the university’s layout and surroundings, about which places were safe and which not and knowing how to react when this suddenly changed. People with authority were preferred for this spot, but sometimes it was the quiet ones who knew the school better and had some especial kind of intuition as to which places were safer.
To be a Host you had to know the rules as the back of your hand, and not just know them, follow them too. Your history with the fair folk had to be as clean as possible of things like debts, favours, and people near you taken away.
Here is where the curse part comes: as a Guide or Host you are responsible for a bunch of usually high school aged teenagers who sometimes weren’t good at following rules. That, of course, wasn’t a problem for Mike, he was in his senior year, and in the three years he had served as guide and host, not one single student had gotten lost.
This stereotypical nerdy kid wasn’t going to be the first.
Sarah really didn’t wanted to come here. She felt wrong, as if she was being observed from all angles, and something was also following her. But Noah, who usually wasn’t energetic about anything, had been so hyped that she really couldn’t say no.
Still the weird felling prevailed, and when the guides distributed the introductory pamphlets it just intensified. First of all, if she wasn’t wrong, a little packed of what appeared to be salt or sugar wand glued to the front of the pamphlets, under it, Elsewhere University was written in a fancy font all surrounded by what appeared to be a lot of green vines, she ignored that, but she really couldn’t ignore the first thing she saw after opening the thing: a list of suggestions on how to speak, or better, how to think before speaking, immediately followed by a short set of rules.
“Noah, are you seeing this? ‘Don’t make deals’? ‘Be polite to plants and animals’? What sort of- What are you doing?!”
“Shh! Do you know if crows can eat jerky?” He asked, he had an open pack of jerky in his hands and was eyeing a nearby crow that appeared to returning his stare.
“How would I know and where even did you got jerky? I thought you didn’t liked it,” Sarah asked, side eying the crow that appeared to be very interested in the piece of jerky that Noah was timidly offering.
“A cousin from Virginia was making a visit, she brought a whole box of the stuff, I have a bunch of-” he was interrupted by one of the guides in front of everyone group.
“Attention please!” The Guide, a dark haired guy who looked like he could have been a basketball player, waited until everybody was mostly quiet to talk again, “Good. Welcome to Elsewhere University, we are glad that you have chosen this university as a possible place to study, but before we give more information, I want you to open you pamphlets and pay a detention to the suggestions and the set rules written there. I ask you that you follow those rules, for your own good- and I’m not joking” he added after hearing some snickers.
After a fast revision of the rules they were assigned of chose a partner from the other prospective students, just groups of two, no more. Sarah immediately took hold of Noah’s arm, he sometimes tended to be a bit distracted and had the custom of wandering off during field trips since he was in middle school.
“Now, stay with your partners, and wait for your hosts, they are here to protect you, they will accompany you through all your stay here, again, for your own safety, the university grounds are vast and have a big part of forests, it’s very easy to get lost. Your hosts will review the principal rules with you in more detail before we begin our trip to the dorms.” the Guide looked down to a folder in his hands, looked around and started walking toward them.
Noah looked about to ask her something (“hey have you seen my-“) but someone touched her shoulder before he could finish, “Um, excuse me, are you, um, is this your picture?” a shy looking girl was showing Sarah a picture of her in of one of those folders that all the hosts appeared to have. She wondered why her name wasn’t written there.
“Yes,” she said with a smile, ”you must be my host, my name is-“
“Wait!” the girl looked altered as if Sarah was breaking some kind of federal law, and then surprised of herself for her outburst “We… we don’t use our given names here, it’s, um, a tradition of sorts, for our own protection” she kinda whispered the last part, looking around a bit, Sarah noticed that Noah was talking to the guide who was speaking earlier. His host, she guessed, “you can call me Tina, and you should come up with a nick name too,”
“Um, ah, you can call me Lara, nice to meet you” she extended her hand for Tina to take, she wasn’t good coming up with things in short notice.
“Yeah, me too” Tina took her hand.
“So this is your friend. I’m Mike, nice to meet you miss…” Noah’s host inserted himself in the conversation, with Noah beside him.
“Lara, nice to meet you too” presentations done, they made a bit of chit-chat, revised some of the rules (Sarah looked pointedly at Noah Nathan from now on, every time rules like ‘Don’t eat food that someone gives you unless you’re sure they are human’ came up) and then started walking again with the tour. Suddenly, Mike was called from ahead, he threw an apologetic smile at them, and ran to where his name was being shouted.
They kept walking. Nathan looked near his feat, stopped, and started to crouch. Tina called her attention to something at the other side, just for a second, just one, and when she looked back Nathan was gone, she looked around a bit but couldn’t spot him, “Um, Tina? Did you saw Nathan walk away?”
“Huh, no, why?” after a some talking, Tina had opened up a bit she was still almost painfully shy, ”Wasn’t he following us?”
“Yeah, he was, but I can’t find him now”
“You mean he isn’t around?”
“Um, no, he just kinda disappeared, one second he was here and the next he wasn’t”
Tina looked around, standing in her tiptoes trying to look over the crowd and when does couldn’t find him, she turned pale. “Oh my God” she took a deep breath, her eyes open wide, “oh my God, please no,” now Sarah was a bit scared, and also somewhat confused, “please no, not the first one in three years, not in my first year” Tina was starting to hyperventilate, typing erratically in her phone. Sarah didn’t understood why she was so altered, Nathan had just wandered off, just as always, he would come back in a few minutes.
She saw Mike approach them running, evading people with a grace she wished she had. He had a worried expression on his face, but not as panicky as Tina. He immediately took hold of Sarah’s shoulders, just making her more confused about what they were freaking out, “You sure you didn’t saw him wander off?” he asked.
“Um, yes, I’m sure, but, guys? Why are you so worked up? He’ll turn up in a few minutes”
“No, no, you don’t understand, that’s not how it works here” Tina looked like she was having a panic attack, Sarah looked at Mike unsure of how to react. He had a sour expression on his face, but he let her go to approach Tina.
“Calm down Tina, calm down, we don’t need panicking hosts, remember training. It was near this spot, right? I’ll contact the AR they know what to do, don’t worry about it and attend to your own charge”
“Yes, yes,” she whispered, looking like the only thing grounding her was Mike’s hands, “I’ll do just that,” she looked closer to calm after that. Sarah was pulled away by Tina to keep going with the tour. The last thing she saw was Mike frowning while hurriedly speaking on the phone.
Mike couldn’t believe it. He wasn’t mad with Tina, she was pretty good at this, almost no dangerous encounter in her history, but it was her first year doing this and having a really close encounter (even if she didn’t saw it) during her firsts time probably wasn’t good, so it wasn’t her fault. No, he was mad at himself. He had years in this. Four years to be exact, the first freshman to participate in planning. He was the one people (especially freshies) came for help, he was supposed to be trust worthy.
And then his charge (his charge) was lost in to the Other realm. He couldn’t really know what was being bargained with the Fae, he wasn’t a AR (couldn’t be, really, his major and ‘always ready for danger’ personality caused both respect and fear, but sometimes bit too much fear and anyone would feel cornered and attack, so he couldn’t approach the fae), but he knew that they weren’t making a lot of advances; Fae were chaotic neutral, but sometimes, some of them fit the chaotic part more than the neutral, and it so happens that his charge was lured by one of those. They tried to control this with agreements and other things, but every few groups of prospective students, one or two got lost, and without knowing the rules or constant contact with the fair folk to learn the most basic unwritten rules, they were more difficult to be returned.
His charge, Nathan, was a nice kid, a bit too peppy for his taste, but he was overall nice: followed the rules without questions, and, curiously, seemed to have a connection with the place. If he decided to study here, he would have done well, but now they probably wouldn’t even know.
They tried to keep it as quiet as possible, no one outside the weekend event organisers and AR were allowed to know to not scare the prospective students away. One day, 6 hours and counting. Tomorrow evening was the end of the weekend event, guests were supposed to go back to their homes. The event had been a blast for them, but all the school residents in the know were worried underneath, they just knew how to hide it better.
It was the morning of the last day. Sarah had slept a total of 6 hours in her whole stay here, she hadn’t texted or called he parents in fear of revealing something in accident. They had explained her everything (or as much as they dared to say aloud). Fae. The fairy tales, those that her grandmother liked to tell her, had just turned into a more morbid- realistic view. Noah had been kidnapped by the Fae.
Well, not really, but something like it, and now he was lost on the “Other Real”, a difficult place to get to and even more difficult to get out of. She understood the names thing now, Names have power, more power than ever should be assigned to something so simple.
She was standing near the place with other Tina who was trying get to console her, other university students were passing near. Crows were unusually loud that day. She wasn’t sure why they were standing there, it was her decision, but that didn’t meant that she understood it. She supposed it was a way of coping, and that maybe, if she wished hard enough, he would just come out stumbling from the trees….
…Just like he was doing right now.
“No- Nathan!” he tripped on something and took a hold of a branch for support, “My God, Nathan, are you ok? Are you hurt? Do you remember me?”
She ran to him, being careful to not touch him in case he was hurt, he looked tired, but happy, well, not happy, satisfied was more like it, and a bit more confident than two days ago. He still had his backpack with him, if a bit lighter, his clothes looked ruffled and a bit dirty, but not much. “I’m glad to see you too, Lara, I’m ok, I’m not hurt, and yes, Lara, I remember you, but first things first. Let’s find food, I’m starving” she was happy to obey.
After he was fed and watered, and a comfy as he could without taking a shower Sarah asked him why he had wandered off “My keys. I had lost them near there, and I saw something shiny on the floor, so I confused it with them”. Someone, he thought it was his host, but he wasn’t sure, Some specific recent things were a bit fuzzy in his mind, asked how he had gotten out. “I followed the crows, of course, very trusty fellows if you treat them well”
If he took two extra salt packets from the cafeteria and stuffed them in his pockets, nobody said anything; if not two weeks later he decided on getting hire ears pierced and was looking for iron and silver earrings, Sarah preferred not to comment; and if that year he only applied for Elsewhere University and nothing else, his parents took a look at the place’s prestigious reputation and decided it was better to ignore it.
In campus, the tale of the prospective student who managed to get out of the Other realm by his own will, would continue to spread. Facts changing to make it more interesting (“He came out with the Sight”, “He was blessed by the Queen-“(“Don’t ever mention the Queen, you idiot!”), “He went back in a few hours after and hasn’t been spotted since then”), but if you went near the tree where crows liked to congregate, you may see (very probably) a student, a bit nerdy, but confident, with an aura that seem to fit with the place, feeding the crows, and smiling like he knew something they didn’t every time he herd the tale.
Note: It’s been a long while since I’ve written something that wasn’t a school paper, I think it is glaringly obvious in my inability to write actually short stories. Anyway, when I saw the Elsewhere University post I experienced love at first sight and after reading some asks about prospective students and some people that just seemed to fit in the university this was born. I apologise for the length, I really tried to make it short (yes, it was way longer before editing).


Deal? (Lafayette x Reader)

Words: 1800+

Warnings: cursing

Request: hey! could i request a lafayette x reader modern au, where laf is in france and he meets an exchange student from north america who is struggling with their french? hhhh i think that would just be so cute ❤ @strawbirby (did i tag the right person??)

A/N: i don’t know why it took me so long to write this

You walked into your dorm room, sitting your bag on the bed. You were put into a single, different from everyone else. You would have rathered sharing, to have someone to talk to on your experience in a different country, but this would have to do.

You flopped onto the mattress, looking at the open door. Different people from different countries walked past, some excited and some nervous. You opened your dictionary, studying some words that were pertinent to what you had to learn. Since you were an exchange student, you had to speak almost fluent French. It was easy to read and write it, and the verbal tests weren’t that difficult. But speaking it in the home country? That was a completely different from saying it in America.

“Are you Y/N?” You looked up, seeing a woman standing there. You nodded, placing your book to the side. The woman walked in, giving you a folder. “Monsieur Leroy told me to come and give you this. It’s a correction to your schedule, the last one did not have your speaking classes.” You thanked her, and she smiled, walking back out of the room. You glanced over the schedule, seeing that everything was pretty much the same.

You heard your phone ring, and glanced at it. Your friend, Peggy, picture shown, and you answered immediately, already missing her. “I didn’t know you woke up at seven in the morning before.” You joked, looking at the 12 on your clock.

“Y/N! I missed you!” She yelled into the phone, and you laughed, moving it slightly away from your ear.

“I just left yesterday, Pegs. How can you miss me so quickly?” You said, placing your phone between your shoulder and ear. As you crooked your neck, you began unpacking your belongings.

“Yes, but that’s still too long. When will you be back again?” She asked, and you heard some shuffling in the background. “Laurens, stop-” You heard her giggled, and rolled your eyes. The two of them were inseparable. “No, I’m leaving the room. Stop, you idiot, I need to talk to Y/N. Yes, she just left yesterday. Do you have a problem?”

“Am I interrupting something?” You said, smiling. You grabbed a hanger, putting your outfits together.

“No, John is just being John. Y/N, why did you have to go so far?” She complained, and you imagined her pouted lip, the usual expression she made when she was disappointed.

“Oh well, I don’t know. Maybe it’s because I’m majoring in French and international studies. But that’s just a guess.” You snickered, placing your clothes on the side.

“You know, I don’t need your sarcasm right now. Just-” The line cut off, leaving a tone ringing in your head. You sighed, throwing your phone on the mattress.

You walked out your dorm room, on a mission to learn where all of your classes were before you attended them tomorrow. As you were searching for one, you bumped into a taller fellow, his curly hair wrapped up in a bun on the top of his head. He wore a plaid shirt, the long sleeves pushed up on his forearm. You quickly said sorry in French, cringing at your terrible pronunciation. Whenever you were nervous, every single word jumbled up.

He gave you a kind smile, nodding at you. “It’s okay, mon ami. I know English.” You let out a sigh of relief, and he laughed at your reaction. “Are you a student?”

“Yes. I’ve just made it here today.” You glanced at the schedule in your hand. “Um, can you help me find this class? I’ve been looking for it for ten minutes now, and I cannot seem to find it anywhere.”

“Of course, anything for a beautiful woman like yourself.” You frowned slightly at his flirtatious behavior, but quickly assumed it was just French culture. You gave him the schedule, and he scanned the paper quickly. “Ahh, you have the same schedule as I.”

“Really? That’s interesting, I thought the international students had specific layouts.”

“They do, mon ami. I’m part of the program. It’s part of my major in international studies, I am to help any exchange students. Like yourself.” He winked, walking with you through the hallways. You could not help but feel slightly disappointed, thinking he was just helping you out of kindness. Now that you knew the real reason, it seemed like he was forced to do this.

“I see…” You said, saying nothing more. He looked down at you, grinning.

“Would you like for me to help you with your French? Since our classes are the same, I can help you understand.”

“I’m fine, but thank you.” You said, slightly annoyed.

“How about this: I help you with my mother language, and you help me understand things about North America. I plan to travel there next semester. Deal?” He asked again, stopping in the middle of the hallway. You bit your lip, considering the options.

You felt like you were pretty knowledgeable about your country, and him helping you in French would benefit you immensely. After looking at his face for a few moments, you nodded. “Oui.” You replied, and he laughed.

“Let me show you the rest of our classrooms.”


You soon learned that his name was Lafayette; the man had too many surnames for you to remember. You quickly nicknamed him Laf, and the two of you became inseparable. Every day after class, he would help you with your pronunciation, and you would teach him things about America that he didn’t know. He was surprised that something like pineapple would go on pizza, but he was willingly to try it, much to your dismay.

Your French was improving greatly, and since half of your classes were in the language, it was beneficial. Lafayette soon taught you slang and curse words, laughing at your face whenever you said one. You taught him English curse words, and could not help but grin at the way he said Fuck with a French accent.

“Ah, and what does this fuck actually mean?” He asked you, pursing his lips. You held back a chuckle, raising your shoulders.

“Honestly, it could be used for anything. A noun, an adjective, a verb, an interjection, an adverb, whatever your mind creates, you could probably put fuck in front of it.” You replied, sipping on your beverage. He nodded slowly.

“That’s fucking cool Y/N.” He said, and you spat out your coffee.

You noticed that he stayed by your side, barely paying mind to the other international students. He told you that he was supposed to help those students, but he seemed to ignore them. You asked him why, and he always shrugged, telling you that you were his one and only.

That definitely made you blush.

As the two of you were giggling about something in one of the study rooms, a professor walked up to you. You looked at him, and Lafayette smiled at the man. “Monsieur, how may I help you.”

“Ah, Gilbert, I see you have found someone to mentor. See, I told you, someone will partner up with you.” The professor laughed, looking at you. You gave him a closed-lip smile, glancing at Laf. His smile was slowly going down at the man’s words.

“Ah, monsieur, this is my friend Y/N. I am not with her just because of the partner program.” He said, his voice becoming harsh. You were now curious, looking between the two of them.

“What is he talking about?” You asked, butting in. The professor looked at you, surprised that you could understand french. You rolled your eyes.

“Ahh, it is required for his major. He is suppose to find someone to be a friend with, and communicate in both English and French. I assumed he picked you.” The professor walked away, ending his conversation on an awkward note. You looked at Lafayette, upset.

“So, I’m just an assignment? I’m just here to get you a good grade?” You said, rising out of your seat. Lafayette widened his eyes, shaking his head quickly.

“No, mon amour, monsieur is just telling you about an assignment that I had to complete. Please do not misunderstand.”

“Fine, tell me that you didn’t talk to me in the beginning just to complete your requirement. Tell me that I was not just a part of your grade.” You crossed your arms against your chest, looking at him. He pleaded with his eyes, not answering. You nodded, grabbing your bag off the floor and taking your notebooks off the table in front of you. “Guess this buddy system is over, Laf. You should find someone else to lift your grade.”

“Y/N, wait-”

You walked out the study room, slamming the door behind you. Some people gasped at the loud sound, looking at your figure walking out of the library. You felt the tears falling, staining your cheeks. You used your right hand to wipe away the unwanted tears, walking towards your dorm. Before you could walk in, an arm grabbed you, turning you around.

Lafayette was standing there, unwilling to let go. You pulled and pulled, but he resisted, making his grip tighter. “I swear Laf if you don’t get your arm off me right now-”

“Y/N, please, just listen to me. Can you do that?” He begged, his eyes never leaving yours. You nodded, and he let go of your limb. “Y/N, when I first met you, yes, I used you as a way to get a better grade. I will not deny this.”

“You ass-”

“Please, let me finish, mon amour.” You knew that he used that nickname to calm you down, and of course, it worked. “After getting to know the person you have become, I realized that I do not care about this grade. And I’m so sorry for treating you like a number. I liked you, I like you, as a person. And you are my only ami around here, but I could not help but see you more than that. Today, I was going to ask if you would like to go on an, how you say, outing with I. I wish for you to be my girlfriend, Y/N. You are not and will never be just a project to me.” He said, looking at the red of your cheeks pouring out onto the rest of your face.

You looked down, cursing this man in your mind for his eloquent words. You glanced back up at him, and he looked nervous, sweat pouring down his face.

You felt a drop of water hit your forehead, and looked up at the sky. Oh.

He wasn’t sweating. It was rain.

Good grief, you were always making up scenarios in your head. As you watched the rain fall, you heard the clearing of a throat.

“Y/N?” He asked, getting your attention back. “Did you hear what I said?”

“Oh, yes. Yes, I would liked to go on a date with you,” he smiled, and you glared at him, “But there better be nothing else coming out from someone saying that I’m a grade.” He nodded quickly, placing his hand in yours.

“Let’s be on our way, then.”

Control (II)

Author: kpopfanfictrash

Pairing: You / Mark

Rating: PG-13

Word Count: 4,403

Summary: On a night out with your friends, you accidentally text the wrong number for advice. The guy on the other end of the phone is abrupt, harsh and kind of an ass - but he also happens to be right. Which explains why you keep texting him. Right?

Originally posted by j-miki

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After Centuries

Pairing: Lucifer x Reader

Word count: 1487

Warnings: smut. Possibly slight fluff. Quite definitely out of character Lucifer.

A/N: This story has been in my Lucifer writing folder for months! I’m glad that I could finally finish it. Not completely sure about it, so any feedback would be greatly appreciated.

The problem with being different, is that people never fully understand you; They can sense your differences and tear you apart for it. They make you question yourself, making you wonder why you’re not like them. They make you think “What if I wasn’t here? What if I had never been born?”

I had always been classed as “different”. I never disputed or denied that fact – I knew I was different. I could hear voices; see images of places that I had never been to before. But the worst one was being able to sense when someone was lying to me. When somebody lied to me, not only did it hurt emotionally, but it also physically hurt: my head would experience a dull ache and my back teeth would get that sore sensitive feeling. That’s the reason why I ran away from home when I was 16. Every time my parents told me they loved me, the headache would occur, my teeth would hurt and my heart would break a little bit with each lie. When no one came looking for me – or when my picture didn’t show up on the local news – I knew that they never truly cared for me.

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Bad Boy

Originally posted by teambgasm

Group: Ikon/Mobb

Idol: Kim Jiwon (Bobby) (ft. Mino from Winner for like a minute)

Genre: AU; BadBoy!Bobby

Overview: The bad boy of the school as your boyfriend plus strict, conservative parents is a recipe for disaster. (one-shot)

Words: 6,987

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Trying to Leave Him- Kyungsoo, Jongin, and Sehun [Gang!AU]

Part of Trying to leave him

Part I, Part II, Part III


B.A.P: Part I, Part II, Part III; BTS: Part I, Part II, Part III; Dean; EXO: Part I, Part II, Part III; Got7: {coming soon}; Monsta X: Part I, Part II, Part III


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A/N: So this is a super headcanon-y fic. I always thought that there should be some kind of side effect that happens when Bruce de-Hulks, so I researched radiation sickness and made that the side effect(s). Anyway, hope you enjoy my headcanons lol.

Pairing: Bruce Banner x Reader

Prompt: None

Words: 1.7k

Warnings: none except descriptive sickness I suppose


You began dating Bruce Banner four months ago. Everything was perfect. You were busy with work, and so was he. But somehow your free time always aligned with his. The free time was typically at night. Those times were spent snuggling and talking for hours about anything and everything.

But sometimes, you had days off from work, and you would go visit him in his lab. Tony was usually there, assisting Bruce with whatever project they were working on. And sometimes, when Tony slipped out the door, Bruce would tackle you with rough kisses and curious hands.

You had hoped that you would get one of those romantic surprise attacks today, but the Avengers received an emergency mission. Bruce didn’t know it was your day off. You had planned to drag him out into the beautiful daylight and have a picnic with food you made at home. Determined to still surprise your boyfriend, you patiently waited in his office, connected to the lab.

You knew about the Other Guy. Bruce often explained it as being part of Dissociative Identity Disorder and gamma radiation accident; the two factors combined turned him into the green “monster” he always despised. It worried you, though, to know that he went through massive amounts of stress to “be” the Hulk.

You had seen him turn into the Other Guy once. Bruce’s vocal cords shredded themselves as he let out screams of pain when his muscles grew and his skin greened. All you wanted to do was to be able to hold him in your arms and press kisses across his face.

As you waited for Bruce’s return, you sat in his office chair, spinning it around in boredom. Bruce had hundreds of papers in hundreds of folders on shelves. His desk was neatly organized, and you smiled at the photos on his desk. One was of him and his mother when he was a toddler. Another one was of the two of you on a date at the science museum; his lips were smushed against your cheek as you had reached out to take the photo on your phone. And his final photo was purely of you, laughing at whatever Bruce had said before the picture was taken. Your heart was warmed by Bruce’s office mementos.

And then your heart froze as you heard the same vocal cord shredding screams approaching the lab. You saw Steve Rogers dash into the lab and swipe everything off one of the tables.

“Bring him in here!” Steve yelled. “Clint and I can hold him down.”

You peeked towards the door and saw Tony and Clint drag Bruce in and drop him onto the table. Bruce, clad only in a spare set of pants that Tony had brought with them on the mission for the post-Hulk nudeness, was dripping in sweat. Odd amounts where it was already pooling on the table. His skin was illuminated with red burns and blisters.

You immediately sprinted into the lab and rushed to Tony’s side. “What the hell happened out there?!” You cried.

Tony’s breathing nearly stopped when he saw you, eyes popping out of his head. “(Y/N)! You’re not supposed to be here!” He exclaimed.

You grabbed Tony by the collar of his shirt. “What happened, Stark? You better tell me right now, or I’m gonna-“

“WHY IS SHE HERE?” You were cut off by Bruce’s crackled yell.

Bruce began to struggle against the hold of Steve and Clint, trying to get to you. Tony turned away from you and placed a gentle hand on his best friend’s shoulder.

“Bruce, you need to calm down. You don’t need to Hulk-out again today.” He said sternly.

You walked over to Bruce’s head and cupped his face in your hands. “Bruce, sweetheart, I’m right here. What happened?” You whispered.

Clint had been staring at your lips, reading the words carefully. “Nothing happened, (Y/N)…don’t you know what’s going on?” He asked confused.

Tony shook his head. “No, she doesn’t. Bruce, here, wanted to keep it a secret from her.” Tony looked to Bruce. “How’s that working for ya now?”

Bruce let out another deafening yell of pain before his body began to shake violently. His eyes rolled to the back of his head while Clint and Steve rolled him onto his side.

“Oh, wow, way to avoid the question,” Tony mumbled.

You held your hands to your mouth, tears flowing down your cheeks. “TONY, WHAT’S HAPPENING TO HIM?” You screamed.

Tony assessed the situation and grabbed a pillow from the couch in Bruce’s office, returning to place it between Bruce’s knees. “He’s having a seizure, can’t you see that?” He replied sharply.

Becoming more and more worried, you looked to sweet Steve, who you knew would tell you the truth if you threatened him. “Steve, if you don’t tell me what happened to Bruce out there, then you can say goodbye to-“ You began.

Steve looked at you with sad eyes. “I’m sorry, (Y/N), as much as I want to tell you, this needs to come from Bruce. Wait for him to wake up.” He responded.

Eventually, Bruce stopped seizing. His breaths were irregular, and the redness and blisters had increased on his skin. Tony reached over another table to grab a bucket and held it patiently.

“What’s that for?” You asked.

“You’ll see.” Was all Tony said.

Your heart seemed to ease when Bruce’s eyes fluttered open. Then, without missing a beat, Tony lunged forward with the bucket in his hand just as Bruce leaned over the side of the table and violently vomited. Steve and Clint took a step back, giving Bruce some air. After the vomiting spell ended, Tony looked to his coworkers.

“Well, that’s the end of the show. Tune back in next mission.” He said dryly.

Steve and Clint both nodded and headed out the door of the lab. Tony walked towards the chemical sink and cleaned out the bucket.

You looked to Bruce, who stared at you with dull eyes. You reached for his hand, noticing again the sweat running off his skin and onto the table. “Bruce, what happened to you.” You breathed with tears streaming furiously down your face.

Bruce inhaled roughly and squeezed your hand. “It’s radiation sickness.” He said.

You shook your head slightly, confused. “It’s…what? Radia-…how is that possible?” You questioned.

“It’s radiation sickness…from the gamma radiation accident I was in.” He responded.

“But I thought that’s why you turned into the Hulk? That’s what saved you right?” You questioned.

Bruce nodded weakly. “That’s true…but I didn’t escape the radiation that easily.” said. “Every time the Other Guy takes over, my body is invincible. But as soon as I take over my body again, I suffer from radiation sickness. Specifically, the radiation sickness that I would have suffered if I hadn’t turned into the Other Guy.” He explained.

You squeezed his hand tightly. “So you’re gonna die?” You cried, trembling slightly.

“No, darling, no. I’m not going to die.” He reassured you. “But every time I retake my body, I suffer from what I would have suffered…which is seizures, tremors, burns, fever, and vomiting.”

You felt sick just hearing about Bruce’s suffering. So all this time he was basically dying after he de-Hulked? “But it only lasts ten minutes?” You asked.

Bruce laughed dryly. “Yes. Because that’s how long I would have lived after I was exposed to the enormous amounts of radiation. It’s like a twisted ‘quid pro quo’ situation. I don’t die from radiation sickness, but I have to suffer from it every time I come back.” He explained.

You nodded weakly and brought his fingers to your lips. The redness and blisters had disappeared as if they were never there. The tremors in his arms and legs had ceased. He was still a little sweaty, but that was all.

“Bruce, why didn’t you tell me?” You breathed.

He sat up weakly, and you helped him stand to his feet in front of you. His arms wrapped around you in a desperately needed embrace. “I’m so sorry, (Y/N)…but I knew you would care too much. You would want me to stop aiding the other Avengers…”

“You’re damn right, I do.” You responded quickly.

Bruce sighed and kissed your forehead sweetly. “You know I can’t do that though.” He whispered.

You stared deeply into his eyes and raised your hand to caress his cheek. “I know, Bruce. I just don’t like seeing you hurt.”

He nodded. “I understand. And I love you for that. I should have been honest with you instead of letting this be the way to the truth.” He laughed softly.

You giggled and placed your hands on his waist. “Yes, you should have.”

Bruce raised an eyebrow and smirked. “So why are you here, anyway?” He asked.

“Oh, yeah,” you laughed, “Today is my day off. I brought you lunch and thought we could go to the park down the block and have a picnic.”

Bruce grinned and squeezed you in a tight hug. “Oh, sweetheart, you’re so wonderful.” He said before holding his hands on your shoulders. “If you give me just a moment to find a shirt and some socks, we can still go.”

You smiled, finally relaxed again and happy that your boyfriend was safe and healthy. “That sounds great.” You said before walking towards his office.

Before you could walk through the doorway, Bruce snaked his arm around your waist and kissed your neck slyly. “Aaaaand I have the rest of the day off…so whenever we’re done with lunch, we can-“

You turned around and cut him off with a kiss. “That sounds even better.” You said before helping him find a shirt, noticing his devilish smile as he pulled on some clean socks.

SasuSaku Month - Day 4: Lean on me || [Fanfic] Untitled

Title: Untitled (for the time being)

Rating: K+/PG

Notes: I apologise for the delay again, I thought this would be easier to write but I was really mistaken. It turned into a little monster and also, some of the scenes are similar to one I had to go through some time ago in RL (unfortunately, not with the same outcome), so I had to overcome my own feelings because everything else in me refused to write a different story. I’ll review it tomorrow to correct possible mistakes, and if you see someting weird, don’t hesitate to tell me. I hope you like it :)

Words: 5232

***The poem is original, I wrote it for this story.



“She collapsed?!”

Sakura felt as if all her strength had been drained from her body. The books she was carrying almost slipped from her weakened grasp and she had to lean on the nearest wall, breathing deeply, trying to concentrate on the voice of the person at the other end of the line amidst the confusion in her brain.

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through the coldness

Originally posted by chokaivlicious

Title:  through the coldness
Pairing: Kim Jongin/Reader
Genre: Dance instructor!Kai/ Journalist!Reader
Summary: Everything goes down the hill the moment she realizes that her life wasn’t how she had planned it. However, maybe she could use her ink to write about her friend Jongin so she could finally reach the success she always wanted. Yet, as she gets to know more about him…she realizes that she can see through his cold stare and find the warmth that he never shows to anyone but her.

Part I: “Your place or mine?”

Due dates, mere numbers in a calendar that were hated by most of the world’s population. There was something well known about due dates and it was that it shortened your time in a way and it was an excellent way of pressuring an individual to the point of self-blaming and stress. Authorities used it as a way of delivering responsibility and receiving it at the same time, which caused most workers or students to plan everything for that date. Some decided to spend their times eating, going out, watching series or simply talking to their friends until a day was left and they were on tears begging for more hours to whatever was up there. Others picked every single second of their day to perfect whatever was on task. Whatever person you were, you still felt that tickling inside your stomach that welcomed someone to judge your work. Her due date was that day and she had been working for two weeks straight to bring a good article to her magazine so she could finally get that upgrading spot in the place she worked at, a weekly article that was on the first pages. It was a dream that she never forgot and she worked hard for it the moment she entered said company, so she was twisting and playing with her pencil as she saw the boss’ face when he was reading through her article.

Kyuhyun, her boss, looked at her through his small lashes and sweet eyes, but they didn’t show the excitement that usually plastered over his face whenever he read Baekhyun’s adventurous and eye-catching articles. He had this small over his petite features, one that wasn’t too pleased and she lets her shoulders fall a bit, looking down at her hands as she expects whatever correction he was going to make. She thought that the article based on the most known artist on the region was exciting, even more when the man was as old as he was, but Kyuhyun didn’t see it that way from his point of view completely business based. The man fixes the sleeve of his black coat as his back becomes straighter; placing down the big amounts of sheets of paper she had brought him to look into her eyes. He calls her name in that voice full of disappointment and she sighs.

“…You know I love how you write.  Your words are the classiest of this entire magazine and your style is…captivating, really.” Compliments, the best way to start a correction in one’s work, they were sweetened ways to remind someone that they were still friends even when you were about to put a dagger through their hearts. Kyuhyun interlocks his hands together before sighing. “But this…this is classy, beautifully written, but it’s not new…how many people have interviewed this man in the entirety of his life?  The same plain answers become dull to the reader’s eyes, you know?” Kyuhyun runs his fingers through his brown hair and she nods her head, trying to reach for the sheets of paper with determination.

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I Hope That You Burn

Pairing: Sam x Reader, Dean, Mia (OC)

Word Count: 2.8 k

Warnings: Angst, cheating (it’s not very graphic, but it does get described), swearing, implied smut

A/N: This is my entry for @carbonated-beverage’s Supernatural, the Musical Challenge! The song that I chose was Burn from Hamilton. Let me tell you, I fucking love Hamilton and I had a fucking blast while writing this. Thank you so much for letting me join your challenge!This is also completely unedited.

Prompt: Burn from Hamilton


I saved every letter you wrote me
From the moment I read them
I knew you were mine
You said you were mine
I thought you were mine

It was the summer of 2007 when you met Sam Winchester.

The first thing that you noticed about him was his height. His tall body easily towered over yours to the point where your neck would hurt from looking up at him for so long. He came waltzing in to your law firm. His body was clothed in a dark blue suit. He claimed to be FBI.

“Sam Brown,” He greeted you with a  warm smile and a handshake. “And this is my partner, Dean Moore.”

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Message From Terra

@fuukonomiko, @ultramarineblues, I wanted to make sure you saw this short and silly piece I wrote some years ago I think.  

“Lord Malcador, Primarch Guilliman’s flagship has just arrived in-system,” the voice of one of the control-tower personnel informed the Sigillite through a floating servo-skull.

Malcador paused from his conversation with Primarch Dorn.   The elderly First Lord of Terra held a parchment delicately in his bony, blue-veined hands as he frowned in confusion.  “Why has Roboute come to Terra?”

Rogal Dorn scowled. This was his usual facial expression, but Malcador had learned to detect subtle differences in the Praetorian’s features.  Right now, he too was perplexed.

“Unknown,” the voice from the servo-skull told them.  “He says he will only speak to you, Sire, and in person.”

Dorn gave a barely perceptible nod.  “I will have the Imperial Fists man the walls.”

Malcador placed the parchment on the table and reached for his Aquila staff.  “I think that would be wise.  This is very abrupt, and out of character for Roboute.  I will meet with him in my reception parlour.  Until then, I will look back through my cogitator records and see if there are any clues I may have missed about him.”

Malcador made his way back to his quarters.  As he entered the front room that served as his personal office, the lights came on automatically and a servitor set in a wall niche began to prepare a cup of tea for him.  The old man placed his staff carefully into an iron bracket on the floor behind his massive oak desk and placed a hand on one of the arms of his chair.  An enormous Northwayan Forest Cat lay curled on the sheepskin cushion in the seat of the chair.

“Shoo, Henry,” Malcador said, waving a hand at the animal.

Henry stared with yellow eyes at the Sigillite.

“Get out of my seat, you monster.”

Henry rolled onto his back, showing a grey-tufted belly.

“Oh, all right, I will pay your toll.”  Malcador buried his fingertips in the fur of his cat’s abdomen.  The cat rolled left and right a few times, then sat up abruptly, grabbed Malcador’s hand with his front paws, and bit his thumb.  Malcador pulled his hand away and tapped Henry sharply on top of his head with a forefinger.  Henry pulled his  head back, then rolled to the side of the chair.  Malcador settled in with the cat lying alongside his thigh.  They did this several times a day.

A servo-skull brought Malcador his tea.  He ignored it as he started going through messages on his cogitator.  He actually hadn’t received anything recently from Guilliman beyond…

Lord Malcador, remember always that in all things, I am your most obedient servant.

In the context of Horus’s uprising, Malcador had thought the message was unusually impulsive from Guilliman, but reassuring.  Now he wondered if it was only a declaration of loyalty.

When Malcador went to his reception parlour, he took a short time to admire the collection of historical artifacts he kept there.  It was also a brilliant day over the Himalayzians, and the sunscreens over the picture windows were working to keep the light from becoming blinding.  The view saddened him, as the magnificence of the palace was being covered by the battlements Dorn was erecting to protect them, so he went to his usual armchair.  The table in front of it held a decanter of wine and two glasses.  

“Lord Guilliman approaching,” said a voice from another servo-skull.  “Adeptus Custodes are deployed as honour guards.  Shall they remain in the parlour with you?”

“Yes, have them remain,” he ordered.

Sure enough, a few minutes later, the doors to the parlour opened.  Human servants stood to each side of them as two Custodians entered, helmeted with power staves ready.  Roboute Guilliman entered, followed by two more.  Servants and guards flanked the doors as they closed and Guilliman stepped forward.

He was pale.  Malcador noticed that first.  He was also not in armour, instead wearing an Ultramarine-blue uniform with gold epaulets and a swirling black cape.  Guilliman stopped in front of Malcador and went to one knee.

“Lord Malcador,” he said.

“Primarch Guilliman. What brings you to Terra?”

Guilliman lifted his head. Despite kneeling, he still had to look down at the Sigillite.  “I have received your proposal.  I have come to accept.  And yet…I am deeply confused.  My respect for you is second only to my respect for the Emperor himself, but Lord Malcador, you are old.  I am loyal to you.  What purpose would this union serve?”

Malcador tipped his head to the side.  “What union?”

Guilliman leaned back on his knee.  “Our union. You proposed marriage.  I am puzzled as to why.”

Malcador noticed that his mouth was hanging open.  He snapped it shut then asked,” In what form did this marriage proposal come to you?”

“It came through the astropathic choir.  My Choirmaster thought it had to be a mistake, but the message came through four more times.  He concluded it was very urgent.”

Malcador pointed to a chair. “Sit, Roboute.”

Guilliman did.

Malcador poured two goblets of wine.  “I sent no such message. “

“Then how and why did it come to me?”

Malcador considered. Then his eyes widened.  “Oh that damnable monster!”

“Konrad Curze?  Horus?”

“Worse than that,” Malcador said.  “Henry.”

“Who the hell is Henry?”

Malcador returned to his front room at a swift hobble, Roboute Guilliman on his heels.  Malcador dispensed with the tummy-scratch part of the ritual, shoved Henry roughly to the side of his chair, and sat down.  He went through his “sent messages” folder until he found one that read “MRRRTYUIJ<KKKKKKKKKKKKKKKKKKKMMMMMMMMEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEMMMMMMMRRRRRRRRRRRYMMMMMMMMMMMMMEUGIHJKGEEEEEEEE?.”

“My astropathic choir got ‘Marry me’ out of that.” Roboute marveled.

“I suppose the choir had to come up with something,” Malcador said.  “It could have been worse.  I don’t care to imagine how, though.”  

Malcador looked down at his pet.  Henry glared up at him.

“Bad kitty,” Malcador scolded.

anonymous asked:

can you make a tutorial on how you make gifs?

why yes anon i think i will!!!

 now before you decided to read-on just know that i do not do the classic screencap way and you need to have videos of whatever you are giffing already downloaded. 

so read on if you wanna see how i make gifs like this: 

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One Step Ahead: Chapter 2, Bitter Heart

Rowan dreaded the idea of walking through the large, solid oak door in front of him. Maeve was on the other side of that door. His possible death was on the other side of that door, and after having been outsmarted by Adarlan’s Assassin, that scenario seemed highly probable. He still couldn’t believe he’d been swindled by her–Celeana. The title and reputation didn’t fit the girl he’d encountered earlier that night. She was young–younger than anyone knew or even suspected. Before tonight, Rowan wouldn’t have guessed she was any younger than thirty. Meeting the woman behind the myth tonight, the white haired thief had to admit that he was impressed. She was a force of nature. Someone not to be trifled with or underestimated. Gritting his teeth, Rowan swore that he’d never make that mistake again. Squaring his shoulders, he took in a deep, steadying breath, and opened the door.

Maeve sat behind her desk, her dark hair and even darker eyes illuminated in the blue-white light of her computer screen. She didn’t even look at him as he entered, didn’t even raise a brow. “Do you have it?” She asked, immediately getting to the point. Still her gaze never strayed from the screen before her. Rowan hesitated, his breath catching in his throat. That did draw her attention. “Well?” She asked again, her sharp tone cutting into his soul.

“I have the files,” he said, walking forward and placing them on the desk before her. Maeve’s dark eyes flickered down at the Manila folder before her, then back to him. She quirked a brow, silently prompting him for more. “I don’t have the ring.” He admitted, trying hard not to fidget under her glare.  Maeve was cut throat, and intolerant of failure.  She hadn’t become a crime boss by making friends and giving second chances, after all.  

“Where is it?”  She hissed, standing up to slam her hands down on the desk.  

“I wasn’t the only one sent to Dearst’s office,” Rowan told her slowly, trying not to show his fear at her wrath.  Normally Maeve remained apathetic and unmoving, never letting herself show any sort of emotion.  But now, with the anger and frustration radiating off her in waves, Rowan genuinely feared for his eternal soul.  Maeve’s nostrils flared dangerously, so Rowan continued, “Adarlan’s Assassin was there.  She took the ring.  I’ll get it back,” he swore quickly, seeing Maeve’s already pale face drain of all color.  

“Adarlan’s Assassin,” she repeated, her eyes darting away.  "Of course,“ she whispered.  Sighing, the crime boss sat back down into her chair and sighed heavily. "Has anyone told you about my past, Rowan?”  She asked, her eyes not on him but on the ceiling above.  Rowan stayed quiet, sure this was a trap.  Maeve was known for many things and being nostalgic wasn’t one of them.  A bark of a laugh escaped her lips, shaking her chest, and Rowan’s green eyes flashed.  "Surely you’ve heard at least one rumor?“

"No, ma'am,” he answered surely.  Of course, he’d heard many stories about how Maeve had come into being.  his favorite was that she was born of shadow and spite.  That she grew stronger with every angry and bitter emotion aimed at her.  It certainly explained why she was such a bitch, but the white haired thief valued his life too much to mention any of that.  

“I always know when you’re lying, Rowan, never forget that,” she said darkly and had to repress a flinch.  "But I’ll forgive you this once.“  She arched her back, cracking it in the process, and stood again.  This time she opened a drawer and pulled out a picture frame before walking over to stand before him.  Handing him the frame, she said, "I had a brother, once.  Did you know that?  His name was Orlon.”

Rowan looked down at the picture in his hands.  It was a younger Maeve–though how much younger, he couldn’t say since she looked exactly the same–and a young man with dark brown hair and a kind smile.  Rowan had never heard any stories about Maeve having a brother, or any family for that matter, and he couldn’t help but wonder why she was telling this to him.  

“He was killed,” she said simply, without feeling.  Like she was merely stating the weather.  "In his sleep.  In his home.  Along with his son, Rhoe, and his daughter in law, Evalin.“  Maeve sighed again, and there was so much sadness in it, so much loneliness, it made Rowan’s heart sting.  If it weren’t for her outburst earlier, this would have been the most emotion Rowan had ever witnessed from her.  "Did you look in the file?”

Rowan blinked, slowly tearing his eyes away from the picture in his hands and to his boss.  "No.“

Maeve hummed and tapped the thick manila folder thoughtfully, "It’s theirs–their unsolved case file.”  She admitted quietly.  Luckily, rowan had exceptionally good hearing.  "That ring is important, Rowan,“ her eyes flashed to his and Rowan saw a hint of mania behind them.  

"To the case?”  He asked, his white eyebrows furrowing as he tried to understand.

Maeve scoffed, “The case,” she nodded, “and to me.  I gave that to Orlan ages ago, back when it was just the two of us alone and against the world.”  Tilting her head, she asked, “Do you know who killed my brother and his family, Rowan?”  He shook his head.  "Celeana Sardothien,“ she growled, her upper lip curling back and her white teeth gleaming.  "Adarlan’s Assassin.  And now she’s taunting me.  She knew what that ring meant to me.  What Orlan meant to me.  And now she has it in her dirty little claws.”

Rowan felt like he was going to be sick.  This interaction was turning out so much worse than he’d imagined.  He’d never let Maeve down before, and the one time he fails, he fails spectacularly.  Maeve’s shoulders were hunched, her lower lip wobbling with unchecked emotion.  She looked so small, so vulnerable.  Rowan wanted to tear himself apart.  Celeana’s face flashed in his mind, her strange blue-gold eyes flashing with wicked mirth and mischief, and his heart twisted.  No, he thought, he wanted to tear her apart.  

“I’ll fix it,” he swore.

Maeve’s eyes brightened with hope, “Swear it, Rowan,” she whispered.  "Swear you’ll kill her.  Return what’s rightfully mine.  Swear it.“

No hesitation, "I swear.”

Maeve smiled at him, so soft and shy it almost made him want to cry.  "Thank you, Rowan.“

Rowan left Maeve’s office with determination in his eyes and a war cry in his heart.  She didn’t know it yet, but Celaena Sardothien’s days were numbered.  For all the pain and misery she’d caused as Adarlan’s Assassin, Rowan Whitethorn would return it ten thousand fold.  She’d rue the day she ever thought to screw with Rowan’s queen.

49. pictures of you

Originally posted by bigbnags

Title: pictures of you

Pairing: Kwon Jiyong/Reader

Summary: For when the nights are lonely, she had pictures on her phone of her adorable boyfriend Kwon Jiyong. However, he doesn’t seem very fond of them.

Request: When Jiyong finds cute pictures of himself in your phone.

Spending time with Jiyong was almost impossible, at least, on a regular basis. The man was busy almost all the time and his usual need of achieving more and more and the thirst that people had to have him in the spotlight left around one hour for them to see each other every day, whether it was over the phone, video call or simply walking past each other when going to work. Surely, she was incredibly supportive of Jiyong, because his artistic needs and talents were in no way something she despised, rather a characteristic of him that always amazed her; but it was toughening having to see Jiyong from afar, seeing how stressed he was and the tears that came with success, because he was successful but sometimes that could take away the human part of him, the part that made mistakes.

She will always be there for him, that’s for sure.

That night, however, Jiyong had finally gotten some time off and decided to spend the night with his girlfriend. Movie nights were occasionally something they liked to do, it was laid back and they could have conversations about anything and everything, but that night, Jiyong was incredibly clingy. His hands were wrapped around her waist, one of his legs interlocked with hers as they sat on the couch, Jiyong looked down at his phone with her, showing her several pictures that his group mates had sent him within the week and explaining the context behind them. Turns out, the life of a leader consisted in being bothered by his younger band mates and friends.

Well, not only the younger ones, Youngbae and Seunghyun were really bothersome too.

She loves to see him smile, the way his cheeks lift up slightly and his eyes shine brightly; she also loves when he’s breathless from laughing, clapping slightly to motion his state of happiness. There were many things she adored about Jiyong, but she loved him when he was his happiest more than anything else. That’s the time when she gets her phone out, sneakily trying to capture a picture of Jiyong laughing at one of Daesung’s text, but sadly, once her finger landed on the button, it made a huge sound that startled Jiyong, making him look at her at the speed of light.

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anonymous asked:

First visit to Grandma and Grandpa Dupain's? or to Grandpa Agreste's? (hoping that Adrien has a slightly better relationship with Gabriel at this point)

OMG!!! I really wanted to do one of these after watching a whole season of “Rattled” on TLC, just didn’t know how or had the motivation to. Thank you!!!


“Oh wow, look all that hair.” Tom laughed when he saw the little blonde cloud on top of his granddaughter’s head.

“I know, it’s hard to believe she’s only two days old.” Sabine gushed as she lightly ran her fingers through the infant’s hair.

“And don’t forget one week early.” Marinette added from her hospital bed as she helped her four-year-old son Jean climb up.

“Mari,” Adrien started as he handed the newborn to Sabine.

“You’re kids like to come early and you know that. Jean was three days early and now Yvette. Next thing we know, we might have a preemie.”

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political relations (political!kylo au) | chapter two

AU in which Kylo and Reader are politicians for opposing parties. When Kylo’s department threatens the livelihood of your citizens, you are caught up in a battle against the most insufferable political you have ever met. But he slowly but surely lures you in with his charm, what happens when you end up falling for the enemy?

Pairing: Kylo Ren x Reader

Word Count: 1.5k


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