#and one of them is about lightning bc he’s been in love with him yup

[suckinitup]

HIII BELOVED MUTUAL <3 hmmm fic title….. i will use one of my own bc i would love 2 see how you would interpret the title “brutal” completely removed from the fic’s context :3 sniles sneetly

There's three eggs left.

Mark listens to Ashe bustle around his room as he cracks the eggs into the pan. There's a bandage on the edge of his palm, same colour as his wraps, and he's careful not to contaminate it with any of the egg. He'd have to change it, then, and it's been two weeks since he's actually gotten the chance to sit down and have an uninterrupted breakfast with his fucking kid. The eggs mock him as they slip into the pan, one, two, three, but he doesn't have to worry about the slice Jaguar gave him so he considers that a win.

The music cranks on in the other room. Mark doesn't smile, but there's something nice about being able to recognize the song.

The eggs are fucking annoying him. His back is fucking annoying him. He took three goddamn painkillers the second he woke up and he's so tense he still almost zapped the lights out when he came into the kitchen this morning. Three fucking eggs, two hungry mouths.

Mark grabs two plates from the cupboard, sets them out as he hears Ashe migrate from his bedroom to the bathroom. He's humming, half singing, and a distant clatter lets Mark know that the kid is probably dancing, too. It's a good morning.

It's not going to be a good evening. Three fucking hits, two of them under such heavy security they might as well be under loco and key. It's the kind of job Mark wants to take a week to do. It's the kind of job Overlord knows he can do in an hour. It's going to hurt. He's already booked a hotel for tonight, stocked it with whatever he might need for recovery. Shitty to leave Ashe alone again. Safer to do it anyway.

Mark knows it's time to start plating up when the kid gets quiet. The music switches off, and the footsteps lighten. Ashe appears like a wraith in the kitchen doorway. Mark glances back as though just noticing him.

"...Morning," Ashe offers. He trudges into the kitchen, past Mark and towards the cabinet to grab a cup. There's tension in him. Mark has never seen the kid without tension, except that one year before he took out Ladybug and he had to install those fucking cameras.

"Morning," Mark answers. He slips two eggs onto a plate, drops a fork onto it, and pushes it over to Ashe. The movement strains his shoulder. Stupid fucking painkillers. "There's yours."

"Not hungry?" Ashe asks, like he fucking knows how to be casual. He hides himself away in the fridge too long, but Mark knows that the orange juice is literally right in front of his face.

"Nope," Mark answers anyway. He slides the egg onto his own plate, then pushes the pan away from the burner. He sits down without giving any explanation. Ashe expects it now. He finally grabs the orange juice and pours himself a glass. He drinks it all down in one go. Mark waits for him to pour a second glass. He takes his first bite to egg in the meantime, then occupies himself by cutting it up into smaller pieces with the edge of his fork. He got fucking bored sometimes too, okay. So sue him if he'd figured out the least efficient way to cut his fucking eggs. When Ashe sits down, Mark asks him, "Grades still okay?"

Ashe says, "Yup." He doesn't look Mark in the eye.

Mark says, "Good."

They eat in silence. The painkillers still haven't kicked in. Mark is putting more focus than he should fucking have to to not turn his fork into a shitty fucking lightning rod.

Ashe asks, "What happened to your hand?"

Mark turns his hand so the bandage is hidden again. "It's none of your goddamn business. Eat your eggs."

Ashe snaps his mouth shut and his teeth click. Mark makes a mental note about the dentist. Ashe glares at him, but Mark stares back (and it's not a glare, but it's not nice) and Ashe looks back down to his food.

He eats quick. Two eggs down the gullet of a growing boy, and then he's up and out of the room. "Don't slam your—" Mark calls out, but he's interrupted by the sound of the door slamming into its frame. Anything else he could have said is drowned out by the sound of Ashe's music. It's louder than before, and a song that Mark doesn't recognize.

Mark stares at Ashe's empty plate across from him. He finishes his egg in three bites, and singes the edge of his fork when it sparks.

Domesticity, he thinks. The plates clatter almost as loudly as Ashe's music when he drops them in the sink. The cut on his hand fucking stings with his hand movements when starts scrubbing with the sponge, and then he's distracted by how he'll have to be careful later tonight so it won't fuck up his aim.

He doesn't see Ashe again for three days.

--

HEY WHISKEG HEY WHISKEY HIIIIIIIIII ywah so winters family torment nexus. Of course. This turned into a whole scene instead of a snippet but the whole fucking deal of the fic would be the focused on the winters dynamic—specifically how marks a great caretaker but STRUGGLES to dad and how it fucks with ashe and he SEES it fuck with ashe (because of course it's all from his pov) and he's got the power in the relationship and he never fixes it. he doesn't know how. just a whole lil character study into their bullshit :3 but especially a character study into ashe and how he copes with shit and the way his expectations would change over the years and mark struggling to be a parent without revealing ashe's existence to some REALLY. reallt scary people!!! AND fuckin remembering to get groceries and take out the teash and do the dishes at the same time!! Just the kinda fic overall that makes you go oh.. situation sucks :< ... brutal. hehehehe

[nxrthmizu]

Second Place ; Miya Osamu.

fandom | haikyuu!!

pairing | miya osamu x fem!reader

w.c | 2.2k

genre | fluff

warning(s) | slightly suggestive, implied sexual content

author's note | i've been wanting to write this for a while! so here it is <3 it's not beta read and I didn't use a lot of metaphorical filling so it's not that poetic but eh Idc bc ✨ self indulgence ✨

──────── ⋆⋅❉⋅⋆ ────────

Once upon a time, Miya Osamu swore that he would never settle for second place again— He was never going to let another Miya score first place while he stood in the shadows. The twins had split paths after graduation, stepping onto stages where they'd never have to compete against each other for the spotlight again.

... Okay, who was he kidding. He'd be compared to Atsumu for his whole life— It wasn't like a different career would change that. Besides, his aunts were way too bored to not spin up something about him and his brother during family gatherings.

"Atsumu's making more money, isn't he?"

Well duh, he was a professional volleyball player, of course he made more money— Osamu wanted to roll his eyes in front of his aunts to make sure they understood that he heard their hushed whispers— But then again, he was an adult now, and he knew better than to stoop that low.

The comforting grip you had on his wrist also helped.

Things did get slightly better for him, though.

"Atsumu, your brother's already married," Osamu overheard his second aunt say to his twin during his wedding reception, "When are you going to settle down?"

The grey-haired Miya couldn't help but have a grin on his face for the entire night. Granted, the fact there was a silver ring on your finger also helped. You were absolutely radiant that night, and Osamu couldn't have been happier to finally be able to introduce you as his spouse.

Osamu's marriage did tilt more pressure towards his twin's way, because not more than half a year later, Atsumu caved in and found a sweet little thing to share his life with. The setter had had a couple flings here and there in his earlier years— But none of them ever lasted that long, and Atsumu had never introduced them to his brother, which is how Osamu knew that his twin really cared about the girl when the golden-haired man visited Onigiri Miya with her hanging on his arms.

If he didn't have the decency to help his brother maintain a good image, Osamu would've straight-up snorted at how tense his twin was when he served onigiri up onto their table, the shop empty with the exception of one table. It was almost like Atsumu was seeking Osamu's approval— Which was hilarious enough without the fact that the setter was nervous about it.

At the end of the night, it was as if the weight of the world was lifted off Atsumu's shoulders. Kaoru— The name of Osamu's potential sister-in-law— Got along wonderfully with you, who kept the shy-but-bright woman entertained as Osamu dragged his twin into the kitchen to make fun of him.

"Oh, go easy on him," You elbowed him lightly as the two of you closed up the shop for the night, wiping down the tables and tucking the chairs in. "Atsumu genuinely cares about her, he's making an effort!"

Osamu let out the snort he had held in for most of the evening. "I wouldn't be his brother if I didn't make fun of him."

"Boys." You muttered, just loud enough for him to hear. You had been around to catch the tail-end of some of Atsumu's previous relationships, so you could tell that Kaoru was different; In a way, Atsumu looked at her the same way Osamu eyed a nice piece of mackerel in the grocery shop.

"I heard that! C'mere," Osamu grinned, tackling you from the back. A smile burst across his lips when a giggle erupted from your lips, a cloth rag smacking him in the face when you tried to wriggle away from his hold. "You aren't getting away, pumpkin. Save your energy for later."

He wriggled his eyebrows suggestively, yelping when he was smacked with the rag again.

"There won't be a later if you keep that up." You warned, laughing when horror instantly swept over his expression. His protests echoed in your ears as you thought about how this marriage was something you'd never regret. Yes, it was rough because his business took off on a rocky road, but you knew there was no gain without pain, so you hung on and saw him through to the fruits of his labour.

──────── ⋆⋅❉⋅⋆ ────────

The next family meeting was graced with the presence of Kaoru, who, in turn, had been graced with your advice.

"Dress decently, do not wear black," You had warned her the night before on the phone, grimacing at the memory of your first Miya family dinner. No one had aunts more judgemental than the Miya twins. "I would suggest going with a dress. Oh, and it might help to bring a gift. A bottle of Ginseng Wine might be a good idea."

"We're here," Osamu parked the car outside the family home, subconsciously wincing at the sight of his aunts' vehicles. "... Ah. They’re here."

"I see they turned up early," You grimaced, "Atsumu and Kaoru-chan are going to have a brilliant night."

"Yup." Your husband grinned slightly at that, earning a smack for smiling at his brother's suffering. "Oh, he'll be fine. We'll mention that when Atsumu really needs saving." The wink he sent your way made your stomach butterflies flutter, but the warm touch of his fingers on your hand made them settle. "We'll be fine," Osamu's eyes softened as he met yours, reassuring you. "You've got me, remember? Worst case scenario, we'll just high-tail out of there and say we need to work tomorrow."

"Right," You released a breath of relief, interlocking your fingers with his. "Ready?"

"To see Atsumu suffer?" Osamu quipped. "Hell yeah."

And suffer did Atsumu. Kaoru wasn’t spared (of course she wasn’t—) and was judged from head-to-toe by the Miya's critical aunts. From the way they were eyeing her, you'd think they were the judges of Miss Universe instead of potential aunt-in-laws. Despite that, Kaoru braved the storm and stood strong through the whole night, her resilience shining with her determination to be with the other Miya twin— Osamu nodded his approval at that.

After dinner, the family gathered in the living room, with the elderly seated on the cushioned couches while the twins were squashed together on a bean bag (that you had to convince them to share, because apparently they were adamant about pushing the other off of it). Kaoru and you managed to snag a small corner of a couch, stifling your laughter at the sour faces of your respective significant others.

"So, Kaoru-san," Four heads collectively flinched when the aunt opened her mouth, "What's your job? Yearly salary?"

"Um, I'm... I'm a newspaper editor," Kaoru fidgeted with the strap of her bag while you resisted the urge to snap at her to look as confident as she could if she didn't want the interrogation to go on for the rest of the night. A shy, nervous thing like her would only make the predator's lick their lips at the sight of easy prey.

"Oh! That makes sense," The woman sneered, Osamu's mother not-so-discreetly turning up the volume of the television in hopes that the conversation would be drowned out. "You definitely dress with the salary of an editor."

Offence flashed across Atsumu's face like lightning, but before he could start a fight to defend his girlfriend's honour, Osamu dragged his brother back onto the bean bag and stood up.

"Excuse me, everyone," Osamu put on his practiced customer-service smile flawlessly, capturing everyone's attention instantly. "Y/N and I have an announcement to make." His eyes met yours, and you nodded, a smile waltzing across your lips.

"Mother, father," You begin, addressing your in-laws like you addressed your own parents. Encouragement swirled in your blood as Osamu interlocked your hands and squeezed your fingers. "You're going to be grandparents."

It took a while for the news to kick in.

"Oh, that's wonderful!" Osamu's mother cried out, rushing to envelop you in a hug that you gracefully accepted. "Do you know the gender yet?"

"Of course not, mother." Osamu rolled his eyes good-naturedly. "We're not that far along yet."

"That's amazing! Congratulations!" Kaoru beamed brightly, not having picked up on Osamu's timely intervention.

"Thank you." You replied warmly.

"Well then, are you going to stop working?" The first aunt shot at you, smirking, coy as ever. She knew that you weren't the type to drop your job just because of an incoming child.

"Of course not." You replied easily, "What kind of spouse would I be if I couldn't help carry the financial burdens with my husband?"

She shut her trap instantly, huffing in fury. Osamu had never looked prouder.

The family rejoiced for a little longer, and from the tip of your ears, you heard Osamu gloating slightly about having reached another milestone earlier than his brother.

"I love you," Your husband murmured into the crook of your neck as the two of you cuddled in the warmth of your bed, too far for his aunts' sharp words to hurt you. "And our little boy in there.”

“How do you know it’s a boy?”

“... Father’s instinct.”

Months flew by in a blur, and so did doctor appointments, Sunday shopping trips with Kaoru as you left Atsumu to help Osamu in the restaurant. The pair would drive the half-an-hour trip from Osaka to Hyogo every weekend. This arrangement elicited a couple silly arguments between the twins, of course, but once you taught Kaoru the stern look that would make the two settle like guilty puppies with their tails between their legs— Those arguments became simple matters to handle.

“Have you thought of names yet?” Kaoru asked you while the two of you sipped on coffee.

“I have a couple in mind,” You smiled. “Osamu won’t stop going on about how he was right. The baby’s a boy.”

“Boys will be boys,” Kaoru rolled her eyes. Then, her expression changed to a wistful one. “This might sound odd, but… I just find myself thinking, sometimes… One day, I want what you and Osamu have.”

“... A happy marriage?” You raised an eyebrow, “Honey, you’re already on your way to one. Atsumu looks at you the same way ‘Samu looks at a bowl of gyudon. Or the way I look at a bucket of mint ice cream with peanut butter…”

Kaoru made a concerned look. “The baby sure craves some odd things.”

“You’ll experience this one day.” You returned pointedly. “Logically, I never would’ve thought of eating mint chocolate ice cream with peanut butter slathered on… But cravings are cravings. And it was surprisingly nice.”

──────── ⋆⋅❉⋅⋆ ────────

After nine long months of waiting, Miya Tomohito was welcomed to the world. Osamu cried (Atsumu made fun of him for it before getting smacked by Kaoru— She was learning a lot from you). Both yours and Osamu’s parents wouldn’t stop gawking at your baby boy, with his little tuff of dark hair, his tightly-fisted hands and the slight cherry-red flush of his cheeks. You never thought you’d fall in love at first sight— But your son was living proof that you were wrong. From the first moment you held him in your arms, you had already given a piece of your heart for him to hold in his tiny little hands.

It quickly became a regular sight for frequent customers of Onigiri Miya to see Osamu walking around the shop, a sleeping baby boy strapped to his back. The two were inseparable. Once, you walked in on your husband having a full conversation with Tomohito, who was sucking on a spoon.

“I’m thinking of adding a twist to my tuna onigiri recipe,” Osamu said, as if he were talking to an adult and not a three-month old baby. “Do you think adding a squeeze of lemon juice will make it taste better?”

“Gwa.” Tomohito replied intelligently.

“Great suggestion, Tomo.”

“Mmm.”

“I see. We could go to the grocery store later to get some tuna and try that recipe tonight.”

“Ba.”

“You’re a genius, Tomo.”

──────── ⋆⋅❉⋅⋆ ────────

“I can’t believe you.” Osamu looked helpless. “You’re not… You’re not seriously doing this to me.”

“I’m completely serious.” You said firmly, having put your foot down with no room for argument.

“You’re really choosing him over me?” Your husband’s jaw dropped when you nodded solemnly. “I’m your husband!”

“And he’s my son.” You shot back instantly.

“You’re kicking me out of our bed for our son?”

“He’s sick!” You refuted. “I need him to be as close as possible to me. His fever hasn’t gone down completely yet and I can’t let him go back into his cot tonight. Besides, you might get sick if we all sleep in the same bed. Who’ll take care of the shop then?”

Osamu drooped visibly. He couldn’t believe what was happening— He had lost to a Miya once again— Now his son instead of his brother. “Fine.” He mumbled sadly. “Make your poor husband sleep on the couch.”

“It’s only for one night, ‘Samu.”

──────── ⋆⋅❉⋅⋆ ────────

Tomohito's name is written as 智仁. '智' means intelligence and '仁' means compassionate. I have a friend named Tomohito.

Also, when I was writing this I reminded myself to make sure I made the reader gender-neutral. That is, until I realised that I made the reader pregnant. I am an idiot.

haikyuu!! gen taglist: @haru-senji @hikari-writes @whootwhoot @folkloeren @definitely-yours @rirk-ke @animegirlweeb @cemeiia @haikyuushuffle

[of-a-chaotic-mind]

Thunder Tantrum

Summary: An unexpected storm rages as Laxus and the Thunder Tribe return from a job in a very sour state.

TW/CW: Laxus Dreyar x Reader. Drunk Bickslow, brief mention of tipsy Evergreen.  

Requested?: No

Word Count: 1,028

A/N: I'm not entirely sure if Laxus can actually manage to conjure a storm like that but I thought it would make for a nice imagine. Also, he’s not even technically throwing a tantrum bc his anger is justified but I liked the title too much to scrap it. Anyway, I hope you all enjoy this one. I enjoyed writing it. As always, requests are open and love to all!

Your POV     The Guild Hall is quiet as I enter and take a seat at the bar. Everyone is either on jobs or hungover so there’s not many people here. Mira makes her way over to me as Master Makarov snores at the other end of the bar. “Hi (Y/n), didn’t expect to see you today. What can I get for you?” she greets quietly.

    “Just a soda please. I didn’t expect to be here today either but I got too antsy at the house waiting on Laxus to get back from their job,” I respond. Laxus and the Thunder Legion have been gone on a job for a week or so now. If it hadn’t been for the stomach bug I had when they left, I would’ve gone with them.

    “How are you feeling? Stomach bug gone?” Mira asks as she hands me my drink.

    “Yup, I’m feeling lots better I just miss Lax,” I answer before taking a sip.

    She gives me a sympathetic smile and pats my arm, “I’m sure they’ll be back any time now.” Almost as if on cue, I hear a low rumble of thunder in the distance.

    “There’s no stormy weather in the forecast,” Master Makarov mumbles as he rubs his eyes sleepily and stretches.

    Mira agrees and I sigh, “You guys know what that means.” Within the next few moments, the thunder gets louder and louder as lightning begins to flash. Suddenly, an extra loud rumble and crack shakes the Guild as the doors swing open and the lights flicker. The sky is dark and gloomy by now and the Thunder Legion hurriedly rushes into the Guild Hall to get out of the torrential downpour, followed shortly after by Laxus himself who, as I can see through the rips in his shirt, has a bandage around his waist. The fur trim on his coat drips water onto the floor as he stomps his way up the stairs to the second floor.

    Freed and Evergreen are both wringing their hair out as they and Bickslow, who asks Mira for “something strong”, take a seat at the bar with me. I tilt my head at Freed, “What happened?”

    “That brute cheated us out of our hard-earned pay, that’s what,” Evergreen grumbles.

    Freed sighs, “The man was supposed to pay us 500,000 jewel and instead only paid us 400,000. He called it the Fairy Tax.” I did the math in my head, he cheated them out of 20% of their pay.

    “And the Fairy Tax is?” I ask, checking to see if Mira or Makarov recognize this new term and it seems they do.

    “Clients have started keeping certain amounts of pay from our Guild members and calling it the Fairy Tax. They claim it’s so that they can pay for any damages that happened in the process of completing the job or afterwards,” Mira answers with annoyance evident in her tone. Makarov groans and gets up from his seat on the bar before doing a bit of his own stomping towards his office. All the while grumbling something about giving someone an earful, and understanding why Laxus is so pissed.

    “The thing is we didn’t even leave a mess and Laxus got hurt,” Bickslow hiccups, starting to chug on his second beverage already.

    “It was quick and clean, aside from a few minor injuries, and that arrogant bastard still refused to give us our fair pay,” Evergreen seethes.

    “Now I see why it’s storming so bad,” I state as the lights flicker again.

    “Do you think you should go check on him?” Mira asks, referring to Laxus.

    “I’m not sure even (Y/n) could get him to calm down right now. It’s more than just the money. It’s Fairy Tail’s reputation,” Freed answers bitterly.  

    I sigh and look up toward the upstairs balcony, “I’m going to go at least have a look. This storm is really starting to put me on edge.” The others nod and return to their various tasks as I jump down from my stool and head upstairs. Once I reach the landing, I find Laxus kicked back in a chair with his feet propped up on the table and his arms crossed. His coat hangs from the hook on the wall to my left and his shirt lays crumpled on the floor below it.  

    I observe him for a moment to get a good read on whether I should approach him. His eyebrows are furrowed and his mouth rests in a frown. If looks could kill, the wall he’s staring at would have collapsed by now. More thunder rumbles but it seems to be quieter than before. His jaw clenches before relaxing as he speaks up, “You can come closer.”

    I walk the few steps to stand behind him and place my hands on his shoulders, “The team told me what happened. You don’t have to talk about it if you don’t want to.” I can feel his muscles ripple under my palms as he shifts to drop his feet to the ground before patting his lap.

    As silently requested, I climb into his lap, throwing one leg to either side of him, and rest my head against his chest, wrapping my arms around his waist. He wraps his arms around me and kisses the top of my head. Slowly, the storm outside begins to die down and I can faintly hear Bickslow downstairs, “Sounds like,” hiccup, “(Y/n), got him to calm down,” hiccup, “afterall.” I hear a sharp slapping sound before he grumbles, “Hey, what was,” hiccup, “that for?”

    “Shut up, or you might set him off again,” Freed answers in a scolding tone.

    “Go home, Bic. You’re drunk,” Evergreen giggles, sounding tipsy herself.

    Lax’s chest shakes as he chuckles softly at our teammates. I smile knowing that he’s in a better mood. I’m sure whatever letter Master Makarov is writing in his office will put an end to this ridiculous Fairy Tax. In almost no time at all, I hear Lax’s breathing begin to slow and even out and look up to find he’s fast asleep as the sunshine falls through the window in the ceiling and lands on his fluffy, blonde hair.

Masterlist

Taglist: 

[bunnyywritings]

hi!! i’m back to request more bc ur works are actual masterpieces uwu,,, can i request for hcs or scenarioes on Bakugo/Todoroki/Tamaki (or Aizawa because i am in fact a Shouta simp) hiding their relationship with their S/O until they accidentally out their relationship bc he got jealous skdhdkhf i’m a sucker for these boiis (ily pls don’t forget to smile and drink ur water

 accidentally outing their relationship

[a/n: Thank you for requesting anon! I too am, in fact a shota simp 😔 i definitely smiled reading this request so thank you for that anon💗 i also appreciate the reminder to drink water since I tend to forget, enjoy! -yours truly, bunnyy-`ღ´- ps. uhh todoroki’s turned out a little different...]

katsuki bakugo

There was a reason why blasty boy wanted to keep your relationship private. Literally everyone in Class 1-A was super nosy. Excluding a select few, and he didn’t need a bunch of extras intruding the relationship. You agreed that you wanted to keep it secret as well, enjoying the cuddles and kisses behind closed doors. Neither of you were super into PDA so it wasn’t too hard for the both of you to restrain yourselves. He was used to seeing you joke around with Denki, Mina, and Kirishima so he didn’t really pay too much mind to the innuendos and flirty jokes thrown back and forth. He knew you’d never leave him for either of those idiots and he trusted you enough to stop when things go a bit too far.

Despite him calling them idiots, he trusted his friends to not make a serious pass at you or say anything that would make you uncomfortable. He did get upset when Mina kissed your cheek once but he restrained himself enough because he knew it was just a friendly gesture.

His patience did get tested around Mineta but he always enjoyed watching you kick that idiots ass and making him fall to his knees and beg for an apology. Never fails to make him smile. But there were times where he couldn’t keep his anger at bay, like now.

You guys were out with the bakusquad at a festival, some of your guys’ other classmates followed along. It was going pretty well so far when the night was ending and you had basically had to drag Bakugo over to the game booths.

“Please Suki, it’ll be fun~ Just one game.” You pleaded, pulling out the pouty lips and puppy dog eyes.

“No, I’m not paying for a damned game that’s probably rigged or something.” He crossed his arms.

“What if I paid and you just played with me?”

He huffed in annoyance. “No, don’t wast your money on that crap.”

“Whatever, I’ll just play one myself.” You rolled your eyes and went to a booth, waiting in line to play.

“Oooh who’s that with (y/n)? They’re really cute!” Mina squealed, that caught Bakugo’s attention. A popping noise and black smoke emitted from his palms as he watched the scene in front of him. This person had the audacity to wrap their arm around your waist and try to hit on you.

“Whoah Bakugo, relax.” Kirishima placed a hand on his shoulder but it was shrugged off as Bakugo stomped over to you.

“HEY! Get your grubby hands off of my s/o!”

“Whoa, whoa hey, relax dude.” They pulled away from you and held their hands up defensively.

“Don’t tell me to relax asshole! They clearly didn’t want you so close to them, so back off!” he let poor sweat pool into his hand and the popping intensified, you could already feel the heat radiating from it.

“Alright babe, that’s enough...let’s just go.” You place a gentle hand on his shoulder. He glared at the person who was just all over you and grabbed your waist, pulling you into him and hungrily swallowing your lips in a hungry kiss. A kiss to show everyone that you were his an no one else’s.

Needless to say, the bakusquad was just waiting for the two of you to date, they just hadn’t expected the two of you to already be a couple and they definitely didn’t expect Bakugo to be the one to out the both of you.

“Wow.” You mumbled as the both of you pulled away breathlessly. “What happened to not letting the extra’s know?” You teased.

“Shut up idiot, I had to show ‘em who you belong to.” He looked away, blush on his cheeks.

You gasped. “Was somebody jealous?”

“Wow Bakubro! You’re such a tsundere!” Kirishima snickered.

“You have two seconds to run, airheads!” He growled as he unwrapped his arms from your waist and chased after them.

“Yup...that’s my boyfriend.” You sighed, flinching at the sound of an explosion not too far off.

“You sure know how to pick ‘em, (y/n)!” Mina giggled from beside you.

“Yes, yes I do.”

shoto todoroki

It’s not like the two of you were hiding your relationship on purpose but it was more like, no one had really asked or anything so you just didn’t see the need to bring attention to it. The relationship was fairly new to the both of you so it was very nice to be able to figure it all out while not having any unwanted attention. Todoroki was a sweet boyfriend, he was very hesitant about initiating any physical contact because he was terrified of being like his father. You reassurance definitely helped but you also didn’t mind taking it slow. You weren’t much of a fan of Endeavor. You never were, not before meeting Shoto and definitely not after.

Today, Class 1-A was having a competition of quirks. It would work like a bracket competition until there was one person standing. Endeavor had caught word and decided to sit in and watch. You had beat Tokoyami and moved onto the next round, Shoto had beat Uraraka and moved on as well. Your eyes widening when the next bracket was announced.

“Alright, Todoroki and (L/n)! Be on standby, the two of you are next.”

The both of you stared at each other with wide eyes. When you guys started dating, you agreed that you wouldn’t hold back during training or battle simulations. You had never been paired up though, so this was a bit of a shock.

“Come on (y/n)! You’ve got this!” Ojiro patted your shoulder as he walked past you since his was the bracket that had just ended.

“SHOTO!” The sudden shout caused you to jump and turn towards the source, not very surprised to see Endeavor sitting in the stands, All Might and Present Mic seated next to him.

“You two ready?” Aizawa asked as the two of you got prepared.

“Ready.” Shoto’s smooth voice calmed your racing heart.

“Ready.” You nodded.

“Alright! Begin!”

Shoto watched as lightning enveloped your body, hair starting to float upward (think of killua’s godspeed). He knew how dangerous your quirk was, especially with how much you’ve trained to strengthen it. You could produce at least 1billion volts without passing out. The same amount of electricity as a raw lightning bolt. The sound of a loud crackle of lightning snapped him out of his trance and he scowled, keeping his senses alert, as he looked around. You disappeared, or that’s what it seemed like. Within a blink of an eye you appeared right in front of him.

“Peek a boo~” You teased, you placed your hands on his chest and sent a mild blast of lightning into him and he flew backwards, using his ice to stop him from flying out of bounds. A small smirk spread across his lips as he skid to a stop.

“Come on (y/n), I thought we agreed to give it all we got.”

“All right then Shoto, bring it on.”

Aizawa instantly regretted not setting a time limit when your battle lasted past the 10 minute mark. Not that anyone was complaining though. Watching two people with high skill sets battle it out was intriguing. Endeavor, however, was furious. Clenching his jaw impossibly tighter every time you got the upper hand. 

Towards the 17 minute mark, you had taken a substantial amount of damage already. You were slowly growing more, and more fatigued. Shoto could tell and decided to ease up. But when he attacked, you could tell.

“No, d-don’t hold b-back! I’m not weak!” He could tell that you were frustrated with your performance and he wanted nothing more than to hold you in his arms and tell you that you were anything but weak. He noticed that you were gonna do your ‘signature move’ so before you could complete it, he encased you in ice. Aizawa was a bout to call it when the ice cracked before a loud boom was heard and ice was sent flying everywhere. He watched in horror as you collapsed to the ground.

“Todoroki wi-”

“(Y/N)!” Everyone was shocked as he ran to you, dropping to his knees to check if you were okay. “(Y/n)? Darling please...” He cupped your cheek, thumb running over your cheekbone. His fear may have seemed a tad bit irrational but he panicked. He vowed to himself to never hurt you in any way, so in his eyes he was the same as his father. Once your eyes opened he sat you up and brought your lips to his, “I’m sorry, my love. I’m sorry.”

“Wow, maybe I should get hurt more often.” You chuckled.

“No fair!!! Todoroki has more game than I do!” Denki complained. Well, that cat’s out of the bag.

“Shoto!! What do you think you’re doing?!” Oh right...Endeavor.

tamaki amajiki

I think it’s a bit obvious why he wanted to keep the relationship a secret, he didn’t think he could handle it if other people knew. Mirio and Nejire definitely had their suspicions but didn’t want to overwhelm their friend with accusations.

He was looking for you during lunch, you had said that there was something you needed to take care of something before lunch but that was over half an hour ago. He was mumbling worriedly to his two friends, assuming the worst.

“Oh wait, are you talking about (y/n)?” Nejire tapped her chin. “I saw them go into the hero support classroom. They said something about a suit upgrade.”

Just then, you had entered the cafeteria, but you weren’t alone. You were with Keita...he was another third year who was in the advanced hero support class. They were also known to be a huge flirt. Tamaki couldn’t help but feel jealous as he watched how they had made you laugh, the pink tinge covering your cheeks was worrying as well. The two of you split and went your separate ways.

“Hey (y/n)! How’s it goin’?” Mirio asked as you sat down.

“I’m so excited, my upgrade request finally went through! I’m finally getting a new suit!” He thought you looked cute as you expressed your excitement before guilt filled his entire being as he realized that he was jealous over nothing.

Over the next couple of weeks, you had spent an awful lot of time smiling at your phone, not to mention spending a lot of time with Keita. He knew that creating a whole new suit was a long process. It took a long time to test out prototypes and whatnot but he couldn’t help but think that you were losing interest in him. That you were spending more time with Keita because he was doing a horrible job as your boyfriend. Because he wasn’t there when you needed him or because you just got fed up with his timid nature.

Somewhere inside of him, he knew none of it was true but he couldn’t help but think that he wasn’t good enough anymore. You had noticed that he was acting strange so you decided to ask him about him.

“Tama? Is everything okay? You’ve been acting a little strange recently...” He gulped nervously.

“Well I uh, I-” He sighed heavily. “Do you still want to be with me, (y/n)?” The question completely threw you off guard.

“Of course I still want to be with you Tamaki? Why would you think that?” He scratched the back of his neck sheepishly.

“Well y-youv’e been h-hanging out w-with Keita a lot, s-so I just thought...well I don’t know.” 

You frowned and cupped his cheeks to tilt his face back up so you could look into his eyes. “Baby, why didn’t you tell me earlier?”

“I was n-nervous...I d-didn’t want you to think I w-was being clingy.” He stuttered, the tips of his ears turning red.

“Aww Tama but I love it when you’re clingy~” you leaned forward and pressed a kiss in the tip of his nose which made his cheeks erupt in heat. “Would it make you feel better if I stopped hanging out with Keita so much?”

“B-but what about your suit?”

“Well it’s pretty much done by now, all the prototype testing was done today.”

He was happy that you were spending more time with him lately but one day when you were walking down the hall together, Keita had approached both of you.

“Hey (y/n), so I know your suit is done and everything but I was wondering if you wanted to go on a date with me?”

“Oh Keita, I’m sorry.” You slipped your hand into Tamaki’s and pressed a kiss to his cheek. “I’m already dating someone.”

Tamaki turned and leaned his head against your shoulder in embarrassment. Keita apologized and left you two there. You turned and held Tamaki in your arms, lettin him keep his face buried in your shoulder.

“I’m sorry I embarrassed you Tama, but now everyone knows.”

Legend has it that Nejire and Mirio are teasing the both of you about it to this day.

shota aizawa

The reason why Aizawa wanted to keep the relationship secret was because you were a petty well know pro hero and with the onslaught of villain attacks against his students and the school, he couldn’t endanger you by putting a target on your back. You were also a young pro, you were only 4 years younger than him, and he didn’t wan to “ruin” your image.

One night, you had gone out for some drinks with Miruko. The two of you had been good friends since your UA days and that bond hadn’t broken. She said she’d be bringing a friend along, you just shrugged it off and told her it was fine. What you hadn’t expected was to see her and a certain maroon winged hero strut into the bar. You were mortified. The memory of telling her you thought he was hot coming back to you and slamming you like a 50 ton truck. That was before you started your relationship with Shota but Rumi hadn’t known about that.

“Hey (y/n) this is Takami.” You smiled politely at the blonde. “Takami this is (y/n).”

“Very nice to meet you.” He grinned flirtatiously.

“Likewise.” You shook his hand, internally groaning. This was gonna be a long night.

A couple of drinks in, you switched to water and club soda so you could sober up. You had an early patrol the next morning and you did not want to risk being hungover on the job. The entire night you had to fend off a flirty Takami. However, what you weren’t aware of was the person a few feet away from you snapping pictures of you and the blonde hero.

The next morning, you woke up to multiple tabloid articles about the two of you in the bar. The dating scandal was trending all over social media. You hadn’t really thought much about it and just went to work like usual.

When Aizawa saw the tabloid he frowned. He was a little conflicted because he obviously knew it wasn’t true and he had complete trust in you but he couldn’t help but feel insecure and a little jealous. There was no denying that people loved the idea of you and Hawks together, even he couldn’t deny that the two of you looked good together.

Later on in the day, you decided to make your way to the school to see Shota because the guilt in your stomach just wouldn’t go away. Even if you hadn’t really done anything, you still felt horrible. You had told Aizawa you would be showing up during your lunch break, he said he’d be waiting for you at the school gate. A few journalists had seen you make your way towards UA and decided to bombard you with tons of questions about Hawks.

“When did you two start dating?!”

“Where did you guys meet?!”

“Do you two usually meet up at bars?!” etc, etc...You had your bottom lip tucked painfully between your teeth.

“Actually, they’re already in a relationship.” The sudden deep voice behind you made you grin. His arm wrapped around you and pulled you into his side, pressing a kiss right under your ear. “Now if you’ll excuse us...” And with that, the two of you made your way onto campus.

“That was very out of character for you, Aizawa-sensei~” You purred teasingly. He grinned and pulled you flush against him, chest to chest, leaning down to kiss you deeply.

“Well I couldn’t help myself from getting jealous, people were thinking you were with that blonde asshole. You’re mine baby.“

“Carry on then.” he didn’t need to be told twice as he dove in for another kiss. His students may or may not have seen that go down and they may or may not have teased him about it the next morning.

[aethelflaedladyofmercia]

Coming...Someday I hope o gawd: Aftermath

One more preview! (Though let me know if you enjoyed these.)

As I was completing “What it Means to Be A Demon” I began working on a Noah’s Ark fic, also part of Sawdust of Words. The idea was that it would be shorter than WIMTBAD and have a more even balance of hurt and comfort (as opposed to a massive hurt fest with about the minimal amount of comfort that still made for a satisfying ending).

At current count, it stands around 25k and is a mess. A mess that has defeated multiple beta readers’ ability to try and get it in order. And tbh I haven’t touched it in a while BUT I still intend to finish it one day!

(Seriously, I even foreshadowed some of it in WIMTBAD, because I do plan things. You don’t even want to know what my brain is like.)

I’ve posted about my issues before, but the main ones are:

1. I started trying to do this in media res/jumping between timelines thing that was really cool in my head. It did not work. I now have a bunch of random scenes with no idea how they’re all supposed to hang together.

2. Shockingly, this is angstier than I expected. The angst also went in an unexpected direction. Specifically, ummm...there’s quite a bit that deals with the psychological trauma of isolation. Hoo boy, did I not expect THAT to resonate so strongly when I started in December 2019!

But! I am determined to finish this, not least because it contains a few puzzle pieces to the larger Sawdust of Words story. And also because we all love our Noah’s Ark Angst.

So in the interest of trying to convince myself, I give you the first two scenes! (Maybe. Depends if I do the in media res thing or not.)

And only the first two. We hit the angst fast in this. If I added the third and DIDN’T have the rest of the fic ready to go you would all hate me forever.

--

Mesopotamian Floodplain, 3004 BC

It was not exactly the joyful reunion Crawley had been anticipating for a thousand years.

“But they’re drowning everyone else?”

Aziraphale nodded, biting his lips, refusing to meet Crawley’s eyes no matter how they bored into him.

Rain clouds gathered from every direction, boiling in the sky above. Thunderheads miles tall, shading from black to grey to white, stretched from horizon to horizon, looming like a nightmare, while blue-white lightning flashed from one to the next.

It had reminded Crawley of the day they met. As he’d approached the crowd, wondering what the excitement was all about, he’d felt the glowing presence of an angel nearby. He’d been delighted to see Aziraphale again, to find out what he’d been up to for the last three hundred sixty-two thousand five hundred thirty-three days.

That hadn’t lasted long.

The demon glanced down again, taking in the line of animals making their way towards an enormous boat, sat incongruously in the middle of the summer-dry desert. Nearby, a group of children chased each other, blissfully unaware of what was about to happen.

“Not the kids. You can’t kill kids.”

“Mmm-hmmm.”

And that was it. Aziraphale was going to stand there and watch this happen. Without a word.

He shouldn’t be surprised. He shouldn’t be disappointed. After all, Aziraphale was an angel.

That was what angels did.

--

“What, precisely, do you think you’re going to do?” Aziraphale demanded, chasing after Crawley, hands waving uselessly at the raging demon. Already the wind was setting their robes to flap wildly, twisting Crawley’s long hair this way and that.

“I don’t know but – I’m not going to just stand there like – like an angel.”

For a moment, he thought that would be enough. He walked away, leaving Aziraphale to glare at him in that superior angelic way, effect only slightly ruined by the way his jaw hung open.

But the next moment, there he was again, clutching at his pristine cream robes and half-running to try and get in front of Crawley. “Look, there’s nothing you can do. The rains will start any moment and then –”

“And then everyone drowns. I hope you have a good seat reserved.”

“Actually –”

Crawley spun to pin the angel with his most furious scowl. Aziraphale froze, gulping as if to swallow his own tongue, shrinking back. “I’ll be…I’ve been assigned to stay on the Ark. Watch over Noah’s family.”

“Have you.”

“It’s…it’s a great honor.”

Crawley didn’t even know what to say.

“Well. Congratulations, Angel. Good to see you’ve gone up in the world since we last met.” Aziraphale had the audacity to almost-smile at that, and Crawley felt the bile rising in his throat. “So. You’re going to be safe and dry inside that Ark, while all these people die? You’re going to sit there with your head tucked under your wings and pretend it’s not happening?”

“No. I’ll…” Aziraphale was staring at his own clasped hands, as if trying to memorize the way the carefully manicured fingers twisted. “I was…I plan to…to watch.”

“Watch? Watch?” Crawley spun away. “You disgust me, Aziraphale.”

This time the angel made no effort to follow him. But Crawley didn’t get far. Just ahead, he saw a young woman leading a child by the hand, returning to the mudbrick houses in the distance. He spun, pointing at them. “Are you going to tell me these people – this whole village – is so wicked, the Almighty has no choice but to kill them all?”

Aziraphale bit his lips, twisting his head as if trying to find some direction to look. He certainly wasn’t looking where Crawley pointed, or towards the village, or the Ark…

“What? Not just the town?” He could see the angel flinch. “How far?”

“Gabriel…” Aziraphale cleared his throat, re-clasping his hands behind his back. “Gabriel implied…The whole river valley, I should think. All the way back to the mountains.”

“But that’s…that’s thousands of people!”

“Yes, Crawley,” he snapped, finally bringing his cold blue eyes up to meet the demon’s glare. “Thousands of people who are many days’ travel away but it’s…it’s part of the Plan. There’s a Reason for this and there’s…there’s nothing you can do.”

The first drops of rain fell, steaming hot on his shoulders, to be drunk greedily by the parched ground.

“Jusst watch me.”

----

So uhhhhh yup. Thoughts?

[likesomekindofcheese]

When I’m With You (Ben Hanscom x fem! Maid!Reader, Soulmate AU)

A/N: Hello @may85​, it is I!!!! Your Secret Santa revealed for @bowieandqueen11​‘s Christmas event!! I hope you like it, I have never written for The Loser’s Club before and now this is the right time! I hope you like it!

Here is a link for the song at the end of the Oneshot, for anyone who’d like to listen!

https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=P_VpBqHYv0M

Word Count: 2066

Warnings: maid/domestic work, a meet cute, drinking, swearing, a bit of angst, doggos, soulmate au with marks and the whole shebang and a bit of Reddie thrown in too!

You looked at the mark on your forearm under your stuffy black dress. A single red mark the shape of an oval, but all alone. No soulmate, no second mark. You covered it up before some old woman in a tiara could see you and spit at you for another Rose glass.

Snooty Architect parties made you want to crash your head into the wall.

Maybe it was because it was long, it took hours to prepare and hours to clean after, but that was not all. It was the people.

“Hey, gimme another martini, will you?” your boss asked. “And there’s something on your apron, sweetheart, wipe it off.”

You sighed. You knew that being a maid would not be easy. But the thought of dropping to become a stripper making a thousand a night seemed a little tempting that night.

You went into the bathroom and wet a towel to clean your apron, noticing a strain of meatball sauce, but as you squeezed out the surplus liquid you got a look at yourself.

Who would pay to see me strip, though? Your eyes looked puffy and your hair was a mess.

As you turned back to go to the party, you turned back to your senses to make it more enjoyable. There was beautiful jazz piano music drifting through the air along with some clicking heel steps and laughter that was small and polite.

Rarely, you would see a pair with the two red marks. It would peek out from a sleeve on the wrist or revealed on a shoulder thanks to a woman wearing a dress with no neckline. But there were a lot of double marks and happy faces to go along with them.

Armies of black tuxedoes and sometimes the glittery green and blue and red dresses the women wore would catch your eye. They smiled with bright pink lipstick and then men would take out a cigar occasionally, mixing it with the smell of flowery perfume and the spray you have been using to keep it clean.

And speaking of clean, there was a mess on the floor again.

Snapping out, you were about to run back to the cleaning supplies to fetch a mop when someone called

“OOOF!”

BAM!

You looked over and saw a man was lying down over the stain.

People turned around and gasped pretentiously at this event. You could swear the piano stopped too.

Hurrying over, you offered your hand to the man.

“I’m so sorry! I was just about to clean that mess up! Are you okay?” you ask in one breath.

As you got a good look at him you had to revise that second thought.

It was a handsome man who was lying over the stain. 

He was slightly freckled with brown hair and a beard that seemed as soft as clouds. He was tall and muscular with high cheekbones on his face. And as for his tuxedo…well, you know what they say about a man in a tuxedo. He was like a walking ken doll.

Too bad it was now ruined, considering that said stain was over the seat of his pants.

You helped him up and led him to a back closet. Pushing aside from any snide looks at the sight of a man and woman going into a room alone together, you sat him on an upside-down bucket and began searching the containers.

“Trust me, this isn’t the first time this has happened, but I know how to clean it” you insist.

He looked down at his pants and then at you.

“Oh, thanks a lot! That’s very nice of you” he said cheerfully.

“I’m just doing my job” you replied with a shrug. A half-smirk made it’s way on you as you checked the stain conveniently on his gluts. It wasn’t a sight to complain about. 

“A lot of people here would have just turned away…” he mumured, looking at the door back to the party. 

You give him the bottle of the mixture you kept for stains and hand it over to him.

“What’s your name, by the way?” he asks politely. He looks down a little and puts an arm on his forearm, rubbing timidly.

You answer him with your name.

“Lovely, I’m Ben, Ben Hanscom.” he replies. 

The party felt a little faster after meeting Ben, but once the clock struck midnight you sighed at the streamers and stains and bits of food everywhere. You had just gotten the broom and dustpan, ready to go only to notice that one guest hadn’t left yet.

“Ben? What are you doing here?” you questioned your eyes the size of the moon.

“I couldn’t just say thank you, look!” he points to his pants where the stain dipped.

It is barely visible.

“Let me return the favor, okay? I’ll help you clean up” he begs.

 May 2019

Winter and Spring had long since passed. But your friendship with Ben had not. Just his face and the thought of his voice made every grueling day of scrubbing floors pass by with a smile on your lips.

Feeling a buzz from your purse, you looked down to see it was Ben’s name on top of that happy little green square. Joy buzzed in your guts as you sat down on your boss’s yellow couch, freshly vacuumed, and read the text, the phone almost to your nose.

Ben: Hey there, I’m having dinner with someone.

Now a different feeling buzzed in your guts.

Ben: It’s someone important. What kind of drink should I have? You’re a total drink expert so I wanted to ask you.

Someone important. Probably a female someone.

You texted back with an angry huff escaping your lips.

Y/N: Depends, what meat are you having?

Ben: I’m fixing a meatloaf. I know, it’s old fashioned. I’m a mom at heart, Y/N

IY/N: t’s alright! Well, since that’s darker meat, go with a bottle of red wine!

Ben: That’s perfect! Thank you!

Y/N: I swear Ben, you make buildings, cook, and you’re learning the piano! You’re a real Renaissance man!

Little did you know that Ben was roasting his mother’s signature meatloaf at home. The thought of your name made him feel warm, and not just from the oven.

Flutters aside from your comment, he reached over and texted.

Ben: You always help me give such good advice, it’s for my buddy, Ritchie! I haven’t seen him in years! I’ll tell him that the wine was your idea.

Y/N: Ritchie? One of your Derry buddies?

 You got up from leaning on the couch and nearly let out a whoop, but stopped, knowing your boss was in the midst of his nap. That jolt of happy lightning was still going through you. 

Ben: Yup! He’s coming over to discuss proposal ideas….

Y/N: Lucky girl.

Ben: Well, Eddie’s not a girl, but he’s lucky. I hope you like Pomeranian pics bc his new puppy is the cutest thing…

Y/N: Please send them!

He immediately sent you a picture of the sweetest looking Pomeranian curled up on a large bed, sleeping under the covers with his front paws tucked over like a polite child.

Y/N: Awwwww! Any name?

Ben: They don’t know. I keep trying to tell Ritchie that Punk Ass Bitch isn’t an option.

Y/N: How about Penny! Cause he’s the color of one!

There were five minutes of silence.

Not Penny was all that he said.

Tears returned.

August 2019

“I have never seen someone so disrespectful,” your boss glowered. From behind his desk, his shadow grew so large it seemed to swallow you whole.

“Sir, it was a mistake!” you begged.

“Not a mistake! An insult!” he screamed, banging his fists on his desk.

“Sir, please listen! I am truly sorry; I didn’t know this would happen! I didn’t know it was wrong! Here, let me take care of it, I swear…” you beg, your legs begin to buckle beneath you.

“Get out! You’re fired! And so, help me, I never want to even speak to you again!” he thundered, pointing to the door.

Nauseous and sobbing violently, you ran out.

But the sun was setting, and it seemed there was no one. Almost no one. There was one person you wanted to see more than ever now.

Nerves shackled your stomach. You hadn’t talked to Ben much since that day because you were so ashamed, but here you were. Knocking on his door, he opened wearing a button-up shirt that made you want to swear under your breath.

“Ben, let me just make this quick, I’m so sorry. I sent that text...”

“No, no, please Y/N, don’t worry! I’ll explain everything. You had no way of knowing, please come in!”

You walked into his house, admiring all his things. His black dog trotted over and smiled in a greeting, wagging his tail so hard that it hurt a little when it hit your leg.

Looking over, you noticed a picture frame. It must have been Ben with his family but…there was only one kid. One kid that had his eye color but not his body type.

“Is this your family?”

“Yes, uhm…take a seat, Y/N, I have a lot to tell you.” He says, rubbing his hands together nervously.

“And is this you?” you asked, still looking at the frame.

He nodded “uhm…yes. I used to be heavy. I was bullied a lot. I spent all my summers at the library too.”

He lifted his shirt to show his stomach. Your eyes widened at the sight of some scars.

“Some bullies got me one day and almost stabbed me.”

“That’s awful. You’re lucky you survived.” you comforted, blinking slowly and trying to see it in your head. The thought of someone hurting Ben made your fists clench. 

“That’s an understatement,” he said.

It was in the privacy of that house Ben explained everything. Derry’s curse. Pennywise. The deaths. The visions.

“But Ben….” You explain softly “I understand…I really do…”

You begin to reach over for his hand and instead, he hugs you deeply. Warm, soft, and safe, you feel some of his tears fall down his face onto your shoulder.

Suddenly you notice for the first time that his forearm has a mark just like yours. After the shaking and crying have paused for a moment, you touch it.

“Ben…look…” you whisper.

But he is staring at you back, mouth open and silent.

And your forearm is feeling very warm.

Ben barely gets the question out before you pull up your sleeve and show him your mark.

Only this time, there are two red ovals, just like his.

 December 2019

“The day after Christmas has to be the saddest day in the whole year” you sigh, swirling the drink in your glass.

The sky was dark and full of gently falling snowflakes. You were lounging on your boyfriends' seat and his dog was curled up next to you. The dog’s hair was on almost all of your clothes now, but with such a sweet face (and an even sweeter owner), you couldn’t care less.

Ben looked at you, in his cream-colored sweater, and grinned. He then turned to the new piano he got for Christmas and sat down.

“Funny you should say that ever heard Alex Duffy’s music?” he asked, starting to play chords to get into the right key.

“No” you answer with your head shaking. 

He offered an arm and gestured next to the piano. You walked over and stood still, watching him as he began to play and sing:

“I walk down the street and see a wintery wonderland

The candles in the windows and the salvation army band

All the people wandering 'round in a sudden state of glee

But all of those people, they ain't me

I smell in the air pine needles fresh and new

And everyone's cheeks have got a pleasant rosy hue

They've got visions of the gifts that underneath their tree will lie

But to that I say: not I”

 He then looks at you, and plays a bit further, only glancing at the keys.

For I've got a secret that no one else can know

That keeps my temperament even during times of snow

I've got the perfect present, one not wrapped up in a bow

It lifts my spirits high when I'm feeling low

Others long for the holidays, yes indeed they do

But every day is Christmas when I'm with you”

You keep listening to the song, then go around and wrap him in his arms. He keeps singing softly, for only you to hear.

Now some might say it's unfair and severe

That I get a Christmas gift each day of the year

To them, I would say that I've no guarantee

But maybe one day they'll find someone as sweet as she

I've got the perfect present, one not wrapped up in a bow

She lifts my spirits high when I'm feeling low

Others long for the holidays, yes indeed they do

But every day is Christmas

Yes every day I deck the halls

Everyday is Christmas when I'm with you!

He gets up and hugs you deeply, your arms entwined and your marks touching together. It snows a little harder when you both kiss.

[max-is-tired]

Magic Mirror (Mirror’s Magic) Chapter 2

Pairing: brotherly Logince, future romantic Royality

Characters: Roman Sanders, Deceit Sanders, Logan Sanders (mentioned), Patton Sanders (mentioned)

Words: 2.809

Warnings for this chapter: Angst, Roman angst, implied character death, captivity, magic, morally-grey Deceit Sanders, Roman takes a very brash decision and someone else has to bear the consequences, please tell me if I forgot something

Notes: You guys have no idea how proud I am of this part -I had to split it in two bc it was becoming a monster of a chapter, but this right here?? God, I’m so so happy with how it turned out.

Thank you so much to @tigertigertigger for betaing this chapter and, well, I swear this fic will have a happy ending. It’ll just take a while to get there.

I hope you enjoy your daily dose of angst :)

(This story is heavily inspired by two Vocaloid songs. This chapter -and the next one- are inspired by this song.)

Commission me!!

Read on AO3!!

Go check @keuwibird‘s amazing art for this fic here!!

First || Next

We’ve seen Patton’s story unfold, everything beginning in an inconspicuous little cottage in the woods.

We’ve seen how a simple wish has granted him a second chance, seen how his selflessness brought an entire kingdom, destroyed by war and death, back to its former grandeur.

We’ve seen how Patton was given the most tempting of gifts, the power to bend reality itself right to his fingertips, and chose happiness, kindness, love –and we’ve seen exactly how high of a price he had to pay for it.

“What happens next?” You might ask.

Unfortunately, that is a difficult question to answer. Before we can properly do so, there’s one more tale we need to tell, one more destiny we need to show.

It’s the story of a young boy, born with magic buzzing through his veins and a million dreams running through his head.

It’s the story of a young prince, second son of the late king and queen, destined to serve and protect his kingdom and its people until his last breath.

It’s the story of a young knight, as talented with the sword as his brother is with words, forest green eyes twinkling red when emotions run wild and caramel brown hair always messed up by running in the wind.

It’s a story of magic, of choices, of misery and maybe, just maybe, a little bit of love.

It’s not a happy story, this one –and it all starts with betrayal.

+++

They thought they were prepared for it.

Logan had never been really loved by their so-called allies, even less since their parents died and he took their place on the throne –he’s young and quick-witted, well-versed in the arts of politics and diplomacy.

They couldn’t fool him with treaties and complicated negotiations, they’d learned that soon enough –Roman has had more than once the satisfaction to see that realization dawn on their faces, standing proudly at his brother’s side while barely being able to keep himself from giving them the smuggest smile he can muster.

So yeah, both Logan and Roman have always been very much aware of the fact that most representatives from the neighboring kingdoms aren’t very fond of them. Still, never in a million years could they have predicted it would all come to this.

Roman stares blankly at the ruined blue robe in the guard’s hands, eyes fixed on the dark patches covering the all-too-familiar golden ornaments –that’s Logan’s coat, he would recognize it anywhere, their family’s crest almost impossible to recognize under all the dried blood that’s Logan’s blood those bastards killed his brother-

“My prince,” comes a voice from his side, the captain of the royal guard stepping forward with a gaze as hard as steel and his mouth set into a thin line, “this means war.”

Silence falls in the room, heavy and charged as the prince takes a deep breath and straightens his back. When Roman opens his eyes again, they’re blazing red, a familiar fire burning inside him as his magic rumbles angrily in his soul.

“Then war they’ll have.”

+++

When Roman marches into war, there isn’t a single ounce of doubt or regret in his mind –those bastards have taken his brother away from him, and he’s dead set on making them pay for it dearly, no matter what it will take.

At that moment, he’s more than ready to sacrifice his own kingdom if it means Logan’s murderers will burn down with it. Who cares if he survives it all? At least his brother’s death will be avenged.

Sadly, that’s not what happens.

Their enemy is strong and organized, having meticulously planned for this since the very beginning –Roman’s kingdom has always had a remarkable military force, but with so little time to prepare compared to their opponents, it’s no wonder it goes as bad as it does.

The battle lasts barely a month, the opposing army quickly piercing their defense and pushing them more and more into retreat. It’s not long before they get completely overwhelmed, crushed and defeated.

Roman never admits defeat, not completely –even as his army is decimated right in front of his eyes, even as his kingdom is set ablaze and he’s forced to kneel in front of those he once called allies.

“You will pay for this,” he seethes even as his face is pressed in the mud, magic boiling helplessly in his blood even as the enchanted restraints he has been put in keep it at bay.

“Oh, little prince,” they smile, drunk in their victory as Roman’s home burns to ashes around them, "we'd like to see you try."

Roman roars in anger, kicking and struggling and biting even as two guards haul him to his feet and start dragging him towards his own castle.

"Lock him in one of the towers,", one of the leaders says, waving them away.

"After all, what's a prince without his castle?"

+++

Our story should end here.

It should end with Roman sitting in the sealed tower, left alone to rot away in the place he once called his home.

It should end with Roman trapped forever in the dark, left with the knowledge that his kingdom is in shambles and his brother's death will never be avenged.

That's the end fates had designed for him, this cruel destiny written in the stars from the very moment of his birth, and yet.

And yet.

An uninvited guest knocks at the door.

+++

If you were to ask Roman what he remembers from that fateful night, he would tell you it was dark and stormy outside -and he would be right.

Let's picture it together -thunder and lightning flashing outside, rain pouring from the sky as a lonely prince stares blankly at the ceiling of his cell, wondering when the end will finally come.

Then, a knock comes through the silence, startling him out of his spiraling thoughts.

Roman's first thought goes to the guards tasked with shoving food into the cell -never enough to really satisfy him or leave him at top strength, but just enough to keep him alive and healthy enough to not risk starvation or dehydration.

(He's also pretty sure they periodically slip in some sort of magic suppressant, his powers feeling weak and dormant in his blood, but Roman has figured that would happen the moment they removed the enchanted restraints from his wrists -if that hadn't been the case he would have already blown up the entire tower.)

Then, he frowns and throws a confused look at the tiny excuse of a window hovering several feet over his head -yup, still nighttime, the absolute darkness punctuated by sudden sparks of lightning as the storm outside keeps raging on. And since the sun hasn't risen just yet and he gets food only once when the night comes -which he remembers happening just a few hours prior- Roman's pretty sure that's not a strangely considerate guard, knocking to make their presence known.

So, that begs the question: who is it?

As another knock resounds in the otherwise silent cell, Roman cautiously stands up and quietly shuffles towards the closed door, hoping to somehow gain more clues about whoever is on the other side.

His hand hovers just a few inches from the door, a strange feeling pooling in his stomach as Roman suddenly finds himself hesitating -it's like a pull in his gut, a sense of uneasiness he finds eerily familiar, like a puzzle piece he knows is missing, but can't identify.

The resounding click of a lock coming undone jerks Roman out of his thoughts, sending him staggering backward as the door swings open and a cloaked figure calmly shuffles in.

"Hello, Your Highness," a voice draws from under the cloak, the figure hunching forward in what Roman can only assume is meant to be a bow.

"Who are you?" He asks, standing tall -or as tall as he can, his weakened legs barely holding up his weight as he warily looks at the stranger.

"Oh, I'm nothing but a lonely man seeking cover from the unforgiving weather," the figure hums, "I do hope my presence here is not unwelcome?"

"... No," Roman says after a moment of consideration -there's something about this man, a sensation Roman cannot name but that still makes all of the hair on his body stand up, goosebumps covering his arms as a little voice in the back of his mind warns him to be cautious, "just unexpected. May I ask who do I have the pleasure to talk to?"

"People call me Dee," the man answers "it is a pleasure to meet you, my Prince."

"Oh, please, stop with the formalities," Roman huffs, looking away as he nods to his cell, "as you can see, I am anything but a prince right now."

"And why would that be? You're standing in your castle, and your kingdom and subjects are still out there-"

"Yes, suffering and dying for a war I brought us all in!" Roman exclaims, anger coursing through his veins as he takes one threatening step forward. "And at what cost? We were defeated, utterly annihilated, and now my kingdom is burning under my own eyes and there's nothing I can do to stop it. So no, I am not a prince, because I'm the farthest I can be from deserving that title right now."

The stranger lets out a noncommittal hum, tilting his head to the side as he watches Roman pace angrily around the cell.

Then, he smirks, small, pointed fangs glinting in the dark of the room.

"Who says there is no way for you to change all of this?"

Roman freezes on the spot, his posture tensing as his mind registers the stranger's words.

"Please," he finally answers, shaking his head as a bitter chuckle escapes his lips, "how could that even be possible? I have no army, no friends, no magic. Let's face it-" he turns once again towards Dee, opening his arms as he gestures to his cell- "my fate has been written: to rot alone in this sealed tower -scorned, despised, hated, destined to be forgotten in the sands of time while those who destroyed my home feast and bask in my family's death."

"No destiny is set in stone, Your Highness," Dee counters, smirk never once leaving his lips, "least of all yours. You have a connection, prince Roman, and that connection is the cause of your misfortune."

Roman blinks, confused. "A… connection? To what?"

"Not to what," Dee hums, a hand reaching out from under the cloak as yellow sparks suddenly fill the space just beside him, "to whom."

That's the moment Roman's mind screeches to a halt, the last few minutes playing in his head as the uneasy, cautionary feeling that has been nagging him since the moment the door had opened finally, finally falls into place. Because those sparks are eerily familiar, dancing and falling through the air as a dusty old mirror stands tall at Dee's side, glass glinting in the dark as Roman takes a wary step backward -he's one-hundred percent sure that mirror wasn't there until a few seconds ago, so the only possible explanation is-

"You're a magic user," Roman whispers, eyes wide as his gaze travels back and forth from the mirror to Dee.

"That I am, my prince," the man grins, "did you not realize? You have magic yourself, after all."

"My magic has been severely weakened in order to keep me here -you'll find that it is quite arduous to sense the magic around you when you can just barely feel your own."

"I suppose that makes sense," Dee concedes with a tilt of his head, before gesturing to the mirror, "but let us not dwell on unimportant matters-" he says, beckoning him closer- "do you not want to know the reason of your misfortune?"

Still unsure, Roman warily steps forward until he's standing right in front of the mirror, his reflection staring back at him with confusion evident in his eyes.

Grinning, Dee leans forward and whispers something, the ancient language of the druids of old rolling effortlessly on his tongue as the air around them suddenly feels charged -like something ancient and incredibly, incredibly powerful is slowly awakening in that lonely tower surrounded by the fires of destruction. It's a foreign feeling, so far away from the sense of security Roman is used to when in presence of magic -and he knows, he knows that should render him far warier about Dee and whatever he's trying to show him, there's a voice in the back of his head that sounds a lot like Logan yelling at him how he should step away immediately, this isn't normal, you don't know what is happening-

And yet.

And yet.

Roman doesn't look away. He keeps standing there, as if trapped in a trance, as the mirror's surface starts glowing, lighting up the room for a few seconds and making Roman close his eyes on instinct when the light just becomes too much to look at.

When he opens his eyes again, Roman can't help the surprised gasp tumbling out of his mouth, gaze transfixed on the mirror's reflection as he tries to properly register what he's seeing.

From the surface of the mirror, a young boy lets out a delighted laugh, his blonde hair reflecting sunlight Roman can't see as pure happiness dances in his eyes -blue like the sky on a sunny day, Roman distantly notes, glinting with joy from behind a pair of big, round glasses.

"Who… is that?" Roman asks, not quite able to conceal the way his voice has almost turned breathy in his stupor.

"In the world through the mirror, everything is set in reverse," Dee reveals, "this boy's fate is deeply intertwined with yours -his happiness is your sadness, his luck is your misery, his kingdom's peace?" The magician looks at Roman, smirking widely as he watches the realization of his words' meaning dawn on him, "your kingdom's destruction."

Roman takes a step back, face pale as realization gives the place to horror. "That can't be true."

"And yet, it is," Dee says, shrugging, "fate chose to give him a happy, fulfilling life and carelessly throw you aside. Such a pity, isn't it?"

"That's-" Roman's breath is quick now, heart hammering in his chest doubt and fear swirl and clash in his mind- "that's not fair!"

"It isn't, isn't it?" Dee agrees, "you could have been great, given the chance to prove your worth. And yet, fate preferred that boy over you -it took away your brother, your kingdom, your happiness, just to give that fortunate boy a destiny that should've been yours. What a shame, really."

Roman clenches his fists, taking in a few deep breaths -he wants to scream and cry and curse at the universe, Dee's words echoing in his head over and over as rage rushes through his veins. But he can't let himself go just yet, not as long as the mysterious magician is standing in front of him and watching his every move.

"Why are you telling me all this?" He asks instead, voice surprisingly steady as a storm rages inside him -he can distantly feel his magic react to his emotions, thrumming deep inside him as it pushes and slams against whatever is keeping his powers locked away.

"As I said, no destiny is set in stone," Dee answers with a grin, "that happiness was yours, and it is only right that I help you get it back, is it not?"

Roman frowns, keeping his expression schooled even as he can feel a spark of hope make its way into his chest. "And how would you do that?"

"Just say the word, my prince, and everything your heart yearns for will be finally yours."

Deafening silence falls in the dark cell, the air charged with a million possibilities as Roman finds himself with his heart's greatest desire standing right in front of him.

He looks at the boy's blue eyes, his smile shining like a thousand suns, and feels something inside himself harden into stone, nodding his head towards Dee.

The magician lets out a boisterous laugh, yellow sparks dancing all around him as the mirror's reflection darkened and disappeared.

"Your wish is my command, Your Highness!" He exclaims, magic whooshing around Roman as his own seems to react to it -he can almost feel the familiar tingling sensation traveling up to his fingertips, warmth flowing through his soul as yellow magic fills his vision.

"The scales of destiny have been replaced!" Dee announces as Roman feels his consciousness start to fade.

"So forget everything, my prince-" a fanged grin, green scales shining in the light as Dee's cloak falls away- "and rejoice."

A single, yellow eye meets Roman's gaze.

Then, darkness falls.

[thequeenofadream]

You (Roger Taylor x Reader)

Summary: You by Dodie Clark, but with a twist ;)

Words: 3676

Notes: TW: MENTIONS OF ALCOHOL DRINKING AND ALMOST GETTING HIT. angsty at first, but gets pretty fluffy uwu haha + swearing + lyrics are italicized 

A/N:  this is for @queens-n-roses 2k writing challenge anddd reading all the other entries got me thinking well shit so here i am in all my shittiness ha ha ha anyways this is also my first time doing a song thing so tell me what you guys think! also also this is late bc im on my last weeks of school so sorry but expect more fics during summer!! (march-june for all ur western people) sdfdjks u know what im gonna leave a seperate post for the a/n fic bc yall i have kwento bye love you all <3

☀ tagging: @obsessedwithrogertaylor @malekdarling @i-padfootblack-things

~~~~~~~~~

I told you I was looking for some empathy

Well, you fooled me

You slammed the door of the apartment you and Roger shared. You had just broken up with you boyfriend, Zach, as he was a misogynistic prick. He had insisted that you move out of your apartment with Rog and move in with him.

You had repeatedly told him no, especially since moving was expensive for college student. You had also only been dating for a month, and the whole thing seemed too fast. In response, he called you a ‘whore’ and ‘cheating bitch’, but the thing that took the cake was when he had punched a hole in his wall, which missed you by a mere inch.

You told him that you never wanted to see his face again, and got out of there, leaving him in a shocked state.You ran straight home, never looking back, tears running down your face. You couldn’t believe you didn’t see his nasty attitude before, but you were glad you got out of it before anything escalated.

Roger was sitting on the couch reading a car magazine, when the sharp noise caused his to dart up seeing you in disarray. You marched right over to your room and closed the door, leaving Rog completely clueless to whatever had happened. He followed you quietly, wanting to comfort you, but the door was locked shut.

He put his ear against the door, trying to make out anything from your sobs, but all he could hear was your crying. He’d seen you cry before, but not to the point that didn't even talk to him. It concerned him a lot, but instead of getting the spare key, he decided to give you some space for now. He told himself he’d make it up in the morning.

You were glad you had stashed a bottle of vodka in the dark corners of your cabinet. You were a shaky mess while the bottle sat in your hand. You placed the bottle between your lips, feeling the taste of alcohol rush into your mouth. It left a burning sensation as it made its way down to your stomach.

You didn’t know what you were feeling right now, but it definitely helped you take your mind off what had just happened.

You fell asleep on the floor with your back against your bed. Your mind wandered between fear, anger and sadness during your last moments of consciousness.

The next morning, you woke up with a pounding headache. The soft pillow on underneath your head, made you feel the slightest bit better. Wait. You realised you were up on your bed, tucked in your comfy duvy. The light peered through your windows making your head throb at the brightness.

You looked away to darker parts of your room, seeing some pain relievers and a glass of water sitting on your night stand which only perpetuated your confusion. Nonetheless, you took them both, making you feel just a bit better. You were about to get up when your door swung open, hitting the wall.

“Whoops I’m sorry.”

You saw Roger holding a tray of pancakes. The stack of pancakes was adorned by powdered sugar and a trickling waterfall of maple syrup. It was such a heavenly sight, you had to restrain yourself from lunging at the sight of it. You couldn’t believe that Roger had made it for you. You couldn't believe Roger was responsible for it. He sat on your side of the bed placing the pancakes down.

When he had gotten a good look at you, he saw how distraught you were. You eyes were sore and puffy; Your hair was disheveled mess, sticking out in all directions. It was a good thing he left the pain relievers for you.

“What’s the occasion?” You practically drooling over the pancakes as Roger set them down.

“You seemed sad last night, so I head to the local diner and got some takeaway pancakes.”

“I knew you couldn’t have made them! and if you did, i guess that i’d have a big mess to clean.”

You both laughed. He’d been your best friend for five years now, and you both knew each other like the back of your hand. He handed you a fork as you wasted no time taking a bite out of them. It was a divine breakfast to say the least. You were devouring every piece as if it was your first meal in a hundred years. Roger could only sit back and watch, amused by how much happiness these pancakes. Little did he know it wasn’t necessarily the pancakes that made you happy.

“So were the pain relievers from you as well?” You asked, finishing up the last bit of pancakes. You laid your back against the headboard, the paper plate and plastic fork in hand.

“Yup, it scared me how much vodka you had drunk.” There was pity in his eyes as he said it. He saw how much was left in the bottle you held while you slept and it petrified him. For a second he thought you had died, but his worries were quickly washed away when he felt a pulse.

“Well yeah, you’ll have to remind me in the coming days.”

You trailed off, remembering your sorrow and pain from last night. You set down the now empty plate and fork onto the trail and took the glass of water from the night stand. Roger frowned seeing you still weren’t over what ever had happen. He thought that he might get punched for asking the question, but it was inevitable.

“So, what happened?”

You continued drinking your water, not really wanting to answer. You wanted to put it off for as long as possible, but Rog was persistent.

“You know you’ll have to talk about it sooner or later. It’s not healthy to keep it in, especially since you almost killed yourself over it.”

You stopped drinking and took a deep sigh. He was right.

“Zach and I broke up. He-” Your breath hitched and tears threatened to flood down your cheek.

Roger reddened, at the mention of Zach’s name. He always thought he condescending asshole. He’d always try to play nice around him just so you could be happy, but there were times when he couldn’t. He’d tell you that he was a dick or a pisshat. You’d always tell him to give Zach a chance, but deep down inside you agreed with every little statement.

“What’d the bloody wanker do?”

The anger in his eyes was terrifying. They were like lightning bolts that were about to strike at any moment, any where.

“He almost punched me, but he missed. He left a hole in the wall instead.”

You spoke softly as a tear rolled down your left cheek. You would have shrugged it off convincing Roger it wasn’t a big deal, but you couldn’t lie. You were horror-struck.

Meanwhile, Roger would have gone into complete hysterics if he wasn’t sitting on your bed at the moment. He tried to compose himself, but he couldn’t. He was ready to throw tables. He was ready to smack the Zach into the bloody ocean. He tensed up everywhere and you noticed his arms’ veins were completely evident. His gaze went dark as he angrily grit through his teeth.

“I’ll kill him.”

You put a hand on his arm, trying your best to get him to calm down. You stroke his arm gently, as he directed his attention back to you.

“Rog, I’m fine, no scars, no cuts. I’m just scared he might come looking for me.”

“I promise I won’t let that happen. I’ll always be there for you.”

He gave you a badly needed hugged, as he realised you needed to be comforted first and foremost. Despite the tight hug, it felt kind and tender. You sank into the hug as it was the first time someone had touched you with such affection and care. You truly felt loved.

Just a touch and a thought and I was gone

It had been days since the incident and you were relatively fine. You hadn’t seen Zach anywhere and you were starting to get back on your feet. Roger had really helped you get back to your normal self. He’d always speak out about his desire to “beat the shit and bullocks out the bloody cunt”, but you’d assure him, you didn’t even want to hear about him anymore.

Tonight was your first night out since, and Roger was accompanying you to be your wingman of sorts. He had thoroughly convinced you to get out and mingle and you had finally gave in. He had also invited Fred, Brian and John, but they all had turned it down last minute; something about them all going to the same meeting. It was a very bullshit excuse, but you and Rog didn’t really mind. It was high time the two of you had some best friend bonding anyways.

You were looking through dresses in your wardrobe, when you had finally found the perfect one. You went with a sparkly tube that ended mid-thigh; You thought it would do nicely with the white pair of boots you had bought the other day. You looked in the mirror, checking yourself out for a moment before you heard a voice from your bedroom doorway.

“I’d check myself out too if I were you.”

You looked back to see the blonde drummer himself, leaning against the door frame. A blush spread throughout your cheeks at his flirtatious comment; his flirtatious comments were quite regular, but you couldn’t help but blush.

Ever since he comforted you, you couldn’t help but feel more amorous around him. You’ve tried to brush it off, but your little crush on your best friend was growing stronger and stronger by the minute.

“Uh yeah well we should get going, before it gets too crowded.”

You hid your face behind your purse as you walked past him. He looked at you in confusion, wondering why you’d become so embarrassed all of a sudden, because you usually had some witty remark ready, but he followed nonetheless.

The walk to bar was relatively normal; you both talked about your day at university. You couldn’t help but stare intently into his eyes during conversation. You mentally scolded yourself for looking at him so love-struck.

By the time you had gotten to the bar, the chaotic atmosphere was in full swing. The pungent aroma of alcohol filled the air as you both stepped in. You both looked at each other knowing exactly what to do. He headed to bar to get some drinks while you searched for a booth. You pushed past the crowd to find a small booth by the corner of the bar. You slipped and looked around, really taking in the scene.

You toyed with the hem of the dress you wore, not really knowing what else to do. You came here feeling pretty confident, but now you really just wished you were home alone with Rog, playing scrabble. You came to impress the masses, but you were having second thoughts. You realised that the only reason you agreed to this whole night out thing was to impress Roger.

It seemed to always be about him.

You pressed your head against the table, realising just how strong you’d fallen in love with him. It was pathetic to say the least. You had fallen in love with a rising drummer who is known to steal the hearts of many. How could one compete?

You had barely spent five minutes in the pub, but you knew it wasn’t going to be a fun night. You decided you were gonna tell him this whole thing was too much for you and you were going to head home. You stood up from your booth and went to the bar.

When you got there, you found several girls fawning over him; You felt that he was the Queen Helen at times, just like Helen, his handsome face could start bloody wars.

You hoped that maybe he would accompany you home and you could hang out, but it was obvious he going home with someone who definitely wasn’t you. You squeezed through the crowd of females, before Roger noticed you and called out your name.

“(Y/N)! Sorry, I got a bit carried away.” He gestured towards the girls who cornered him into the tight spot.

“It’s fine. I’m just gonna head home, I remembered as assignment or two due tomorrow.” You lied, not really looking at him.

He was too drunk to hear you over the loud music, but he nodded thinking you said that you were going to head home with someone. There was a ping of jealousy that shot through his veins, but he ignored it. This was your night, he wasn’t going to stop you from having any fun.

You were a bit scared to leave all alone, but you quickly pushed those those thoughts away as you walked towards the exit. As you left the pub, rain started pouring. You rolled your eyes, sarcastically thanking the world for such great luck. You ran home as fast as you could but by the time you got home, you were soaking wet and too tired to do anything. You just changed into dry clothes and fell asleep on the couch whilst watching an episode of coronation street.

Why do all the red flags

Just look like so much fun, oh

I have a habit of searching for the damage

To share my love

You were out with your friend, Maria, having a chatting over some tea at cafe near the University. You were talking about random things that came to mind, until she brought up your love life.

“So, I heard you finally broke up with that awful douchebag, Zach.” She raised an eyebrow, hoping it was very much true. You just nodded in response, not really wanting to talk about it.

“Well, have you been out since?”

“Nope, but I did go to the pub with Rog the other night. I left early, but he went home with someone else.”

Your eyes lit up when you Roger’s name, but it quickly faded when you remembered he didn’t go home with you. Someone else ended up in his arms that night. Maria noticed this very clearly and did not hesitate to bring it up.

“Do you fancy Roger?”

She asked simply, taking a sip of her tea. You blushed, not really knowing how to respond. You hadn’t told anyone about your sudden intrigue towards him, so your mind was trying to find a response, before your friend answered the question herself.

“Oh my god, you have! You’re absolutely flustered.” She pointed at your cheeks that were as red as ever. She laughed at how embarrassed you were over it.

“Can you shut up! Nobody knows.” You scolded her, swatting her hands away. You drank some of your tea, to hide the increasing temperature of your cheeks as Maria calmed down.

“As much as I love your little friendship, that’s a really bad idea.” She said seriously. You put your cup down, listening to what she had to say.

“I mean no offense, but Roger’s well Roger. Literally everyone knows him as hot drummer you have to take home at the end of the night. You’re just you. You probably just fell in love with him, because you had no one else to love.

You were a tad offended by it. You could possibly in a relationship with infamous drummer, Roger Taylor, right? You thought she was probably just jealous that you had been friends since high school, while she was just another girl in the long list of girls that wanted to talk to him. You were also very sure loved him. You didn’t think of him as just some rebound that you’d stick with until you found someone better. You thought that he was that someone better.

You tried your best to assure yourself that you weren’t a pathetic loser who had fallen in love Roger throughout the rest of your meeting with Maria.

In the end, you didn’t really succeed and you were starting to hope your infatuation was just passing.

People will tell me that I messed up

And it wasn't love

And I'm secretly hoping they are right

“Hey (Y/N), I’m sorry I let you leave alone.”

Roger suddenly blurted from across the couch. You raised your head up from the book you were reading. You wondered why he had brought it up in this particular moment. You were both across each other reading books when he had brought up the subject.

This was the first time in a while that you were together, silent. You have been refrained from seeing him too much, because you were trying to let your crush on him die in peace, but it just wouldn’t. You decided today you’d have a lazy saturday and lounge around. It just so happened that you both decided to read a book in the living room right after breakfast.

“What do you mean?” You furrowed your eyebrows, not really sure if he was talking about that night.

“I mean the first night you went out in a while. I thought you said you were going home with someone else.” He said empathetically completely putting down the book he was reading to join you on your side of the couch.

“It’s fine really, don’t worry about it.” You said going back to your book, continuing where you left off. That was when he stole the book from your grasp and tossed it aside, allowing you to focus on him.

“Ro-”

“It’s not okay. You were still recovering from asshat, Zach. What if he had found you that night?”

You just realised that possibility; you hadn’t noticed it with everything running through your mind that night, but you thought it was fine now. You were fire. Everything was fine.

“It’s fine I ran home, it was raining.” You said, looking away. Roger frowned seeing you weren’t going to budge. He scooted back the slightest bit and gave you some room to breathe.

“I just care about you a lot.” His whisper almost was almost inaudible, but you not absolutely.

“I really am fine. I’d tell you if I felt otherwise, promise.” You said looking back at him, meaning what you said. He sighed, before speaking up again.

“Then why have you been avoiding me the whole week? It’s like I barely even see you anymore and we live in the same apartment!” He said throwing his arms up. You bit your lip, wondering if this was the best time.

“Rog, I don’t think it-”

“Please.”

He looked at you pleadingly. He did not like not seeing you, he hated it. He missed the way you lit up a room with your smile. It was like his sun had been gone the whole week. He was starting to worry if he had done something wrong and that was when he remembered the night you both went out.

When he came back home in the morning, he saw you still sleeping on the couch. He realised he had misheard and you had actually gone home by yourself. He had been filled with guilt since then.

“I think I love you, okay?” You admitted quietly as you looked down, fiddling with your fingers.

“You think?” He asks. He was obviously ecstatic at the idea that you loved him, but wondered why you thought so. He wondered why you weren’t sure.

“It’s just that you’re you! I don’t know why I just fell for you all of sudden. I started noticing all these little things about you and they just made me fall deeper and deeper. I thought it would just go away, but it hasn’t. You keep me up at night, Roger Taylor.” You finished, taking a deep breathe.

“What if I told you I loved you too?”

“Well then I’d guess I’d have no choice, but to love you back. I mean this whole wanting to kiss you and everything isn’t going away.” You joked, trying to lighten up the mood.

“Well, I’ve loved you for quite some time, if you must know.”

“Yeah that’s funny.”

You laughed, while Roger did not really know how to respond. You thought he joking back, but he was dead serious. You realised this and stopped laughing abruptly.

“Wait, really?”

“Yes, you’re really just oblivious aren’t you?”

You blinked once and pinched yourself to ensure this wasn’t a dream. You were surprised to find out it in fact was not. Your (E/C) eyes went wide as you looked at his blue ones, which were waiting for any kind of response.

“(Y/N)?” He asked waving a hand in front of you. You snapped out of your trance and tried to speak, but it all just came out as jumbled words.

“Me? Like? You? Too? Some Time?!” You mumbled as Roger laughed at the priceless look on your face. You seemed to be absolutely surprised to this revelation. Two people who have been best friends and living with each other for over 5 years fall in love? You thought it didn’t add up.

“I could just save you some and kiss you if you’d like?” He said as your stomach did backflips at the mere thought of it. You nodded as he cupped your face and pressed his lips against yours.

You hummed happily at how sweet it was. Funnily enough, the kiss was what brought you back to reality; you started to kiss back. Your lips were both in sync with one another as if they had been aching to meet each other for such a long time. When you both pulled away, all you could think is about kissing him again.

“Yes I do love you.”

“Sure?”

“Positive.”

Oh, I really hope I don't love you

~~~~~~~~~

[distractionactivated]

Spoilery and wildly self-indulgent Thor Ragnarok reaction post:

Alt title: Odin’s A+ Parenting Strikes Back

Alt title: Kestor Was Right About Asgardian Imperialism

This film gets the Official Kestor B ExploringMCUAsgard Worldbuilding Seal of Approval. There was continuity in the set design – I fucking gasped when they went to the vault and it was the fucking VAULT but with better CGI – and the feel and I nearly cried when the Thor 1 music came on. A lot of the things I’ve been saying all along about Odin and Asgardian interrealm politics and history came up – it felt real, it felt right. It was 100% a critique of empire, thank u Taika Waititi, I’ve wanted this FOR FUCKING EVER. Asgard being built atop the bones of its warriors? Its murals behind murals? Its gold come from blood? Oh YES. I love that we saw ordinary Asgardians pick up sword and shield and go toe to toe with undead Einherjar. Fuck yes. I loved seeing Odin’s shiny bullshit wrecked. I LOVED SEEING ASGARD BURN.

One thing world-wise I’m less happy about is that it finally chose the answer to are Asgardians gods? And it chose ‘yes, the royal family are.’ Humph. Grump. ON THE OTHER HAND – if they were going to make that choice they did it in the most awesome way possible so I’ll give it a pass.

I will eviscerate everyone involved in the dialogue for this film. I’m not kidding. Do you know how hard I fought dumbass!Thor? DO YOU? DO YOU KNOW HOW MANY YEARS I SPENT IN THAT TRENCH, ME AND OTHER PEOPLE? And now he’s all like, rambling for ten minutes about how he’s totes in with women warriors and babbling at Bruce Banner and freaking him out and dropping shit in Dr Strange’s place (I was very fine with the vandalism but not the fucking. dropping shit) and just. Oh my god I’m so mad.

Like, the actual character arc stuff? Like, if you describe to me the things that happen and he does? I love it. Great characterisation. Unfortunately, every word on the way was AWFUL. Every time he opened his mouth I wanted to fucking die. We spent the whole of Thor 1 curing him of his doucheness, folks! That’s over! That’s done! Holy Shit!

Look, I don’t talk enough about my absolute aversion to cringe comedy, to ‘awkward’ comedy, and to comedy in general. I hate it. And that was the weak point of the film. They assassinated Thor’s character, the subtleties, the nuanced intelligence, the learned gentleness – god I was writing a thesis on THAT shit playing Kehurie -

OTHER THINGS I AM MAD ABOUT: Fandral and Volstagg dying without a fucking word, Hogun with barely more, SIF NOT EVEN BEING MENTIONED. (and they died that way while Scourge got a FUCKign heroic death, which was also hilarious. Ugh.) Jane being written out in ONE, RATHER DISRESPECTFUL LINE.

Although on a Jane note, there is a lovely scene where Bruce and Thor talk science and I’m like, yup, can tell you’ve hung around with Jane some!

On a death note – look, I am mad about the Warriors, but if I was going to see Asgardians mown down the only way I’d be okay with it is if it was the goddess of literal death. I made my feelings on fighting death very clear when I played Riss Marlay, the Herald of Death, and I am okay with her being an unstoppable horrifying force. But still. Give them a fucking DEATH SCENE. Not just an offhand brush aside.

Loki was mostly great – I can FEEL the Loki discourse approaching in my FUCKING BONES btw – although I cringed myself to death throughout the entire play sequence. Awful. Vile.

Oh god, speaking of Loki, I’ve seen people salty that Valkyrie could beat him but  I’m never gonna be pissed about that bc obviously she can fucking flatten him, duh, it was Stephen Fucking Strange getting to yank him and Thor around like fucking toys, like, nah, that’s not what I wanna see in a THOR film. On an intellectual level I can get that there’s something interesting about his conception of sorcery (as something about idk portals or something) vs Loki’s conception of it as something with knives, but also I don’t want to watch some stupid fake American wanker with a shitty beard and a shitty face outwit fucking Loki.

HEIMDALL WAS THE MOST WONDERFUL. Like, lol at the amazing teleporting Asgardian refugees (alternatively, I want to see Hela hiking back and forwards to the mountains, with a backpack, while Thor whistles), but also Heimdall, Resistance Leader, Most Competent of Asgardians, is the most fantastic thing. I want all the Heimdall fic.

Every fight scene was spectacular. Genuinely, stunning. Especially when lightning was involved.

Of the new characters, I absolutely adored both Valkyrie and Korg – Korg was amazing every moment he wasn’t being played for laughs to the point of cringe comedy – and Valkyrie, let’s just say I’m GayTM. The moment Korg was like ‘these Asgardians, man’ – priceless. I loved her drunk mess of a self, I loved the way she moved, I loved the way she fought, I’m very PISSED OFF they deleted the scene that confirms she’s into women, I loved that she got to stab Hela through the heart for her pretty probably-girlfriend.

There was so much tragedy in this film that wasn’t ever – allowed to get real. Like, Thor watched his father die, learned he had a sister, got his ass WRECKED by her, and taken as a slave within about five seconds and he had the tiny length of half an Asgardian prayer (!!!!) to mourn before he was back to making cringe comedy ‘jokes’ at the expense of his old character. And there was Bruce, who – god, that ‘if I turn again I won’t come back’ was so horrifying and Thor just… brushed it off? Thor, who sat with Jane and said, ‘Jane, you must not give up. Because you’re right.’? Thor, who told Sif, ‘Live, and tell those stories yourself’? Thor?!?!

What was that Odin death scene? Like. the fuck? I loved the ‘my wife is calling me’ but like. He just. Vaporised????

That moment where Thor and Hela were like ‘he told you you were worthy’ was so real and again, like, immediately fight. Like, god, it was a cool fight, but also. (also HOLY SHIT AT THE EYE THING THAT WAS INCREDIBLE I’M FUCKING DEAD – but also can someone who’s seen the film enlighten me as to whether the conquerer!Odin mural had him missing an eye bc I can’t remember and if he is CONTINUITY ERROR because he lost that eye fighting the jotnar when Thor was a small child, long after Hela was gone.)

There was a lot of the awesome stuff about imperialism that wasn’t allowed to breathe as well.

Also, the nerdiest thing – I sat there watching the Grandmaster’s induction program and was like, critiquing it? From my perspective as an instructional designer? Holy shit, Kes. Holy shit. ALSO speaking of the Grandmaster that PRISONERS WITH JOBS LINE WAS ABSOLUTELY SAVAGE, LIKE, GET FUCKING WREKT CAPITALISM.

Also speaking of the Grandmaster, that Grandmaster/Loki subtext was basically text. Like, that bit where the Grandmaster’s brain stuttered when he looked at him? Like. uh. More Valkyrie queerness, less queer villains, PLEASE. Or you know, the same amount of queer villains but EXPONENTIALLY MORE GAY VALKYRIE CONTENT.

IN CONCLUSION – eight emotions at once, at full volume! Argh! Argh! I cried hysterically in the credits for ten minutes! I nearly burst into tears a dozen times because it was simultaneously SO WRONG and SO RIGHT! Emotional whiplash! Burning the emotional candle at both ends! Aaargh! I spent half the time with my hand over my face in embarrassment and the other half in joy!

[minahraven]

The Roommate - BTS - Jimin (Smut/ Fluff) (M)

Summary: Anon – “Hello! Can I request a Jimin smut where you both are roomates and he has the biggest crush on you (who are the innocent type) and one day he accidentally walks in on you naked? And you are embarassed bc no one has ever see you naked? And with dirty talk about how much he wanted you. Btw, I read you Yoongi smut, and if you had not said that it was your first smut I wouldn't have believed it. I really liked it.”

Pairing: Jimin x Reader

Word Count: 2,647

Genre: Smut/ Fluff

Warning: Contains dirty talk, swearing, supa-sexual content. Basically, tis smut. Yup.

 The Roommate

You yawned as you reached for the towels that sat on the top shelf of your closet, grabbing the largest one you had and tucking it under your arm. Since you’d arrived at university, this routine had become habit. Get up early, grab a towel, hurry to the bathroom, shower, get dressed and hurry back to your room before your roommate woke up. It wasn’t that you were a prude. You just didn’t really like the idea of your roommate seeing you wandering around in a towel. If it had been anyone else, it probably wouldn’t have been a problem. Problem was, your roommate was a guy.

When you’d first agreed to your mom’s suggestion of finding someone to share your apartment, it was with a little nervousness. After all, you’d never shared with anyone in your life, so you didn’t know how it would go, sharing your home with someone. Still, you decided to take the plunge and, when you got your first response to the ad you put out, you took all the necessary precautions of meeting them first, in a public place, with plenty of people around. That night, Jimin was curling up in his new bedroom next door to yours. You had known from the second you met that you were going to get along and now, months later, you still couldn’t believe you had gotten so lucky. Your roommate was cheerful, polite, helpful, and better than all of it, he didn’t insist on bringing home women to sleep with every night, which was a blessing. You didn’t know how you would have coped with someone who did that, when you hadn’t even been naked with a guy in your life.

Peeking out of your room to make sure Jimin hadn’t gotten up early (not that he ever did), you hurried across the hall to the bathroom, locking the door behind you as you entered. You had already mastered the art of the lightning-fast shower and within minutes, you were hurrying back to your room, closing the door quietly behind you. Tossing the towel on your bed, you began to hunt around for clothing for the day. You easily found your jeans and tshirt and had tossed your underwear into the pile when you realised you couldn’t find the bra you wanted. With a frustrated groan, you began to look through your drawers again, pushing clothing aside haphazardly in your search.

“Y/N, your bra got put in with my laundry aga-“ You squealed as Jimin’s voice sounded from the doorway, spinning in alarm to see him staring at you, eyes wide. You froze for a split second before quickly trying to cover your modesty with the tshirt you still held in your hand. It wasn’t enough, not that it mattered. Before you could ask him to leave, Jimin had shut the door behind him and crossed the room, tossing your bra onto the bed and sending the tshirt to join it.

You’d be lying if you said you had never imagined sleeping with Jimin. It seemed impossible to share an apartment with someone so goodlooking and not think about him in that way. But you had never once entertained the thought of anything happening. The mere thought of even standing there naked in front of him was sending a chill down your spine and you quickly ducked past him, hurrying toward the door. You tried to yank it open, but it was locked. Turning, you stared at him as he moved slowly closer, eyes not leaving your body for a moment. Noone had ever looked at you that way. Noone had ever so much as seen you topless, and here he was staring at your quickly reddening skin as though you were a five star meal and he had been fasting for a year.

“And here I thought you were beautiful with your clothes on,” he murmured breathlessly as he drew nearer, the boxers he slept in making it painfully obvious what the sight of you was doing to him. “Do you know how many times I’ve wished you’d forget your towel when you sneak into the bathroom in the morning? How many times I’ve had to stop myself from coming in there and just taking you up against the wall?” He was immediately in front of you now, hands sliding slowly up the door behind you to rest beside your head as his dipped to the crook of your neck. He swiped his tongue over the skin there, groaning softly. “I bet you’d like that, wouldn’t you?” he whispered against your skin before sucking on it harshly, a tiny whimper of pain escaping as you felt the mark forming there. “I bet you’d like me to mark every inch of you while I fuck you till you can’t think of anything but me.” Another groan sounded as he nipped at the skin of your shoulder, tongue brushing over the marks he was leaving. “How can skin taste so perfect?”  His hips slowly pressed against you, his erection grinding against your core, both of you moaning at the sensation.

His hand slipped down over your side, gripping your hip as he built up a slow rhythm, more moans sounding in his throat as his head fell against your shoulder. “Fuck… You have no idea how many nights I’ve had to touch myself because I couldn’t stop thinking of you, couldn’t stop thinking of how your pussy would feel around me.” You shuddered at the feeling of him against you, unused to the sensation, and couldn’t help it when your hips edged forward, wanting more pressure against your core. His grip tightened as he growled under his breath, teeth scraping harshly against your skin and causing you to whimper again, louder this time. You had never imagined your soft, cuddly roommate to have such an animalistic side, and somehow were finding yourself responding to it in a way that shocked you.

“Jimin…” you murmured, not even sure if you were talking to him or simply saying his name because you needed to. He seemed to take it as a moan of pleasure, biting down on your shoulder hard enough that it would most definitely leave a bruise. The shock of pain sent a jolt of pleasure through your body and you moaned loudly, head falling back against the door.

“Well, well, well….my innocent little roommate likes it rough, huh?” he crooned as his hand moved from your hip to between your legs, almost purring when he felt the moisture pooling there. “I’ll take that as a yes.” Jimin chuckled darkly as he slowly lowered himself, lips feathering light kisses over your body. Finally, he was kneeling before you, hands nudging your knees apart as he watched your face. Suddenly, you felt very nervous. No man had seen your body before, never mind being in such a position. He saw the fear on your features and leaned forward, pressing suddenly gentle lips to your inner things, sighing happily as he did so.

“Y/N…I’ve wanted you so much since I moved in here. Ever since the first day we met, I’ve needed you.” He kissed again, lighter this time. “Wanted you.” His lips moved higher, mere inches from your core. “Wanted to taste you.” Suddenly his tongue was running slowly over your folds, the very tip slipping between them enough to tease you, eliciting a low, hungry moan from you. That was all he needed and he gripped your hips, pulling you roughly to him and lapping hungrily at your core. His tongue ran harshly over your clit over and over before dipping inside you, his groan of satisfaction as he tasted you sending a shiver through you.

“Oh fuck, Jimin…” you gasped blissfully as your hands tangled in his hair, your hips bucking against his mouth. The pleasure was stronger than anything you had felt and you could feel yourself quickly losing control, all sense of decorum gone. He growled again, this time nipping at your folds as his fingers slipped between them, two of them plunging into you and stretching you for him, more of your juices seeping into his mouth. The sudden intrusion was too much and your knees began to buckle. In a split second, he was standing, his spare arm wrapping around your waist as he lifted you, fingers still curling and scissoring deep inside you, and carried you to your bed. Lowering you on it surprisingly gently, Jimin moved to kiss you tenderly, his lips meeting yours for the first time. His lips were still moist with your juices and you couldn’t help moaning lewdly at the combination of tasting him in his mouth and his fingers toying with you. He chuckled softly as he pulled away, lips moving to your ear to whisper to you.

“Do you know what I’m going to do to you, princess?” he murmured as a third finger forced its way inside you, causing you to scream softly in ecstasy and arch off the bed, your fingers finding his shoulders and gripping them tightly as you shook your head. “You know that beautiful little scream of yours just now?” His voice was harsher now, dominant. You nodded. “I’m going to fuck you until those screams are all anyone in this building can hear.” A small whimper escaped you at the thought, your grip on his shoulders tightening until your nails were digging into the skin and causing him to hiss with delight at your response. “You want that, do you princess? You want me to make you cum so hard you’re begging me to let you come down?”

“Yes! Please, Jimin,” you whimpered, hips moving of their own accord as you tried to take his fingers deeper despite the fact that they were almost more than you could handle.

“Please what?” he snarled, curving his fingers against your walls and driving another low scream from your lips.

“Please fuck me! Make me yours.” He froze, pulling back to look at you. The look in his eyes in response to your words was one you had often seen in movies and imagined seeing on the face of someone you loved, but had never pictured from him: sheer joy.

“You really mean that?” His voice was soft as he spoke, the pause in movement allowing you to catch your breath slightly, though the reprieve didn’t last long. He slowly started to move his fingers again as he waited for your reply. You couldn’t bring yourself to speak, but you nodded desperately, biting your lip to ground yourself. It was enough of an answer, though, and he all but ripped off his boxers, leaving him naked, his painfully hard erection bigger than you had pictured and almost frightening you at the thought of it inside you. “It’s okay baby,” he cooed as he settled himself between your legs, his tip slowly easing into you. “I promise I won’t hurt you unless you want me to.” A slight smirk coloured the gentle smile on his lips and he pecked light, delicate kisses over every part of your face as he entered you slowly, a high moan sounding in his throat as your muscles clenched at the intrusion.

“Too much. I-it’s too much, Jimin,” you whimpered. His hand moved between you, rubbing slow, soothing circles on your pelvis, his thumb grazing your clit now and then.

“Shhhhh, it’s okay princess.” His voice was soft and tender as he coaxed you to relax, his touch gradually causing you to melt against the bed. “Jiminie’s here for you baby. We can take this as slow as you like.” As he spoke, he gradually moved, slowly filling you until you could take no more, the sharp pain that had hit you with his entrance being replaced with a combination of pleasure and satisfaction. It felt *right*, and you couldn’t help yourself rotating your hips experimentally to feel him pressing against all of your walls. The movement earned another high moan from him, but he restrained himself, forcing himself not to move until you were ready for him. He didn’t have to wait long, and you were soon moving your hips almost imperceptibly, afraid to take the initiative. Instead, you turned your head slightly, lips brushing against his ear as you whispered to him, a darker side of you suddenly taking over.

“Fuck me, Jimin,” you murmured, slowly raking your nails over his back. “Fuck me hard.” He didn’t need any more asking and immediately straightened to kneel between your legs, gripping your hips almost painfully as his eyes connected with yours.

“Are you sure about this?” His teeth dug into his lower lip anxiously, but you were certain. Slowly, deliberately, you clenched your walls around him, your eyes narrowing a fraction.

“Make me scream.” Immediately he withdrew, slamming into you full force and driving a shaky moan from you. He quickly built up a rhythm that was almost feral, lips sucking marks onto every part of you that they could reach as he moaned and growled desperately. There was no lovemaking. That would come later. For now, all he wanted was to hear you screaming his name as he drove you to the first orgasm a man had had the joy of giving you. You were quickly climbing towards exactly that, moaning his name over and over as you begged him for more, ‘harder’, ‘faster’. Finally, he could hear your whimpers of bliss growing more frantic as you fought to push him deeper, and he leaned down toward you.

“Cum for me princess. Show me how perfect you look while my cock makes you cum,” he murmured breathlessly, his teeth quickly finding the same place he had bitten before and digging into the flesh. The stab of pain was such a shock that it was all it took to drive you over the edge, your scream of ecstasy leaving your throat raw as you clutched at his shoulders, back, anywhere your nails could find purchase. He needed nothing more than his name on your lips as you came, your back arched in bliss as your body writhed under him. With one final thrust, he buried himself inside you, moaning your name as he filled you.

You both collapsed against the bed exhaustedly as he reluctantly withdrew from you, the loss pulling a soft whimper from your lips. He gave a soft chuckle and drew you closer, the fingers of one hand entwining with yours as the other stroked your back lightly in an attempt to help you regulate your breathing again. You moved your head to rest on his chest, listening to his racing heartbeat.

“This is not just a spur of the moment thing, Y/N,” he said suddenly, his voice determined. “I meant every word. I’ve wanted you for so long, but I never dared to do anything. Are...are you mad at me?” You smiled to yourself and shook your head, nuzzling into his chest contentedly.

“Not at all, Jiminie.” The nickname was a tiny attempt to assure him of your honesty, and the squeeze of his arms around you told you that he believed you. “I’m glad you were my first.” You heard the catch of his breath and he raised your hands to press a light kiss to the back of it. Looking up at him, you were surprised to see his eyes moistening and sat up slightly. “Jimin? Are you…crying?” He quickly looked away, clearing his throat before looking back at you with a smirk

“Me? Cry because you said something adorably sweet? Nah. My eyes were just watering because I haven’t had an orgasm that mind-blowing in ages.”

“Mmmmhmmm,” you muttered sceptically and lay your head back down on his chest. “I guess we’ll have to do that a lot more so you can get used to it.”