and fight about the result

“…H-hero-chan?”

Well well King Oikawa humans aren’t as durable as you thought after all, huh? Now your favourite toy is broken.

The Other Side Of The Door

Simon and Baz get into a fight. It is short lived. They definitely make up. (Also there’s kissing.) (I’m bad at summaries.)

Oh, there’s a lot of cursing in this. Not magical cursing. Swear word cursing.

Also, this one is a bit longer! (1011 words)

It is also on  ao3

Simon doesn’t miss his magic all the time. In fact, most of the time he feels free of a burden more so than anything else. But then he wants to go outside - to get some Aero Bars, or walk to the park down the street, or just get some fucking fresh air for a change - and realizes he can’t because Penny isn’t home and Baz is off at University and won’t be back for another week and he can’t go outside without one of them spelling his wings and tail.

Of course he couldn’t think to spell them away permanently himself before he went and gave all his magic up to save the world. He was too busy - you know - saving the fucking world.

So Simon is stuck in his (and Penelope’s) flat, alone, with no chocolate. He’s too busy sulking to hear the door open and his boyfriend walk in, just in time to hear him curse, “Crowley, I am so fucking useless.”

He startles when a voice replies from the doorway, “Snow, you’re a lot of things, but useless is not one of them.”

Normally it would be easy for Simon to listen to Baz, let the words calm him and take him back down to a normal level. But he’s been stuck in this house for two days driving himself mad not being able to do anything. Feeling trapped and, yeah, useless.

Simon is too stuck in his own misery to do anything but fight back. Hard. He jumps to his feet and turns to face the boy still standing in the doorway. He feels the heat rising in his body, knows his cheeks and ears are covered in red. He’s seen the same on Baz’s face enough times to know this must be what it feels like.

“And what would you know about it, Basilton? Do you even know what this feels like? Being completely trapped somewhere, unable to leave, completely stuck in your own head, going fucking stir-crazy-out-of-your-fucking-mind? I’m fucking useless. I can’t do anything on my own. I need you or Penny to even walk through that door.” Simon can see his words hit Baz; a clear punch to the gut.

“Do you even hear yourself, Snow?” Baz spits back, venom lacing his words. The red from Simon’s face is now mirrored his boyfriend’s. “You’re so fucking selfish. Do you even think before you come up with this shit?”

Instead of waiting for an answer, Baz turns to leave, slamming the door behind him.

Simon sits back down on the couch, still fuming, then realizes he’s too worked up to just sit there. He starts pacing around the flat; he gets a glass of water in the kitchen to help cool himself off, then makes his way into the bathroom to splash some cold water on his face - because the glass he drank was definitely not enough, then goes into his bedroom.

The dresser next to his bed is full of Baz’s clothes, so he avoids opening it. Actually, Baz’s clothes are scattered through all of his drawers…and his closet…so he’s probably better off avoiding changing his clothes altogether. Instead he lays down on Baz’s side of the bed, curls himself into a ball, and tries to force down the angry tears threatening to spill over.

Simon must fall asleep at some point because the next time he opens his eyes, the room seems reasonably darker. Suddenly it hits him. Shit. Numpties.

He doesn’t even think twice, just runs out the front door of the flat and trips over something in the hallway.

“Ouch, Snow. Don’t you look where you’re going?” Baz is sitting against the wall next to the door, looking at Simon, who is now sprawled out on the floor. There’s not a trace of a smile anywhere on Baz’s face which worries him. Normally he would find some humor in Simon tripping over things. Simon really fucked up.

“Baz? I didn’t think- I was just- I-”

Baz stands up as Simon continues to fumble for words. “Let’s just go back inside before someone sees you.”

Simon reaches across his shoulder as if to remind himself of what started this in the first place. He hadn’t even thought twice about it when he was fighting with Baz. He follows his boyfriend back in and leans against the back of the couch.

They both speak at the same time
“I’m sorry-”
“I’m sorry-”

Before Baz can continue, Simon cuts in, “You have nothing to be sorry for. I was an asshole. I wasn’t even thinking when I said that. I had no right. I’m so sorry.” He’s having a harder time holding back his tears now. The number of emotions he has dealt with in the past two hours is overwhelming his system.

“It’s okay, Simon.” Baz walks over and puts a hand on his shoulder. Simon lets his head drop, but Baz lifts it back up with a finger until their gazes meet. “And I do have something to be sorry for.”

“You don’t, I-”

“Shh.” Baz puts a finger over Simon’s lips. “You are not selfish. You are the most unselfish person I know. You gave up all of your magic to save the world. I never should have said that and I’m sorry I did.”

“I’m such an ass,” Simon whispers.

A few tears slip past Simon’s defenses. Baz wipes them away immediately and pulls Simon’s lips to his. Simon melts into it, letting everything he is feeling seep out of him, letting Baz take it all away. The kiss is slow and deep and full of forgiveness.

Eventually Simon pulls away, remembering something.

“Wait, you’re here. Why are you here?”

“I knew Penelope was gone and I figured you’d be going stir crazy, so I made the trip. I guess I took too long.”

“You stayed.”

“You came outside.”

“I wasn’t thinking about myself. I was thinking about you. How I needed to see you. I didn’t care who saw me.”

Baz leans in to kiss him again.

everyone seems to forget that the trio (and many many others) were 17/18 at the battle of hogwarts. ginny and Luna were 16. there were many younger children who also snuck back and fought. most 16-18 year olds are sat worrying about what exam results they’re getting tomorrow this very minute, these ones were fighting for their lives. they were all just children.

Hurting Hearts | Park Jimin

Originally posted by taejin

Genre: Angst, Fluff
Word Count: 1,458
Request: hiiii okay,THE VOW IS AMAZINGGG.hehe anywyas,can i reqeust a Jimin angst imagine where you guys are a married couple and you have a child but one day,rumors of Jimin dating another girl came about,causing you and jimin to fight,resulting you and the child to leave and go somewhere else.up to you to end it however you want.I hope this request isnt a burden but i just wanna let you know that i love your imagines!
A/N: I’m sorry if I took a bit too long. I was and actually still sick plus I had school so I wasn’t able to check my inbox until now. This might not be the best of my abilities; considering I’m finding it kind of hard to breath with a blocked nose HAHAHA lol.  I hope you like it though. The model in this story is my own character. Oh and I actually changed your request a little bit; meaning there’s a big big plot twist that will happen hehehe. Thanks for requesting, lovely!

Request here!


Leaving a trail of footsteps in the pile of snow, you sighed in your gloves-covered hands. You were in the way to pick up your child from the school and it was cold. Your car was used by Jimin to work, leaving you no choice but to take the bus and walk a little bit to the place.

Other people’s kids ran past you and into the warmth of their parents’ embrace. You continued walking straight and Jaehyun soon appeared before you. Crouching down to his level, you ruffled his hair and lifted him up. As you stood straight, you smiled at his teacher and went off.

“Jaehyunie, how was your day?” You asked as he wrapped his small arms around your neck. He opened his mouth and talked about how he and his friends played a lot. His eyes were so bright that it made you so glad to find him happy.

“Oh! Eomma, can we go to the city please?” Jaehyun asked, his mouth forming into a pout that reminded you of his dad. However, you looked at him with confusion; it was rare for him to ask you to go there.

“Why, honey?” He thought for a moment before looking at you with his big innocent eyes.

“Well, I think daddy Jimin likes this thing that we saw when we went there last week.” He told you as he described what the thing looks like with his hands. You held him tightly to prevent him from falling.

“Okay. But we’ll just buy that thing and nothing else, okay?” He nodded and cheered, his arms going back to its place around your neck as you stood on the bus stop.


“There it is!” Jaehyun exclaimed, pointing to a simple wristwatch. It was cheaper compared to the fancy looking ones beside it. It was a good thing today was also your pay day. After paying for the said watch, you noticed some people staring and whispering as you both walked out.

You were walking with Jaehyun in your arms when you walked passed a stand that was selling newspapers and stuff. One magazine caught your eye though and you glared at the owner that was trying to stop you from going near the magazine. She bit her lips as you picked up the magazine, a fierce look suddenly appearing in your face as you scanned the front page.

Paying for it while holding your son’s hand in your free hand, you grumbled out a thanks to the lady and walked out of the shop. Your hands clenched the plastic bag and tried to keep yourself calm, remembering that you were with Jaehyun.

Jimin sighed as he opened the front door, his hand rubbing his face while the other gripped his soulder bag. It was definitely a long day and all he wanted was to crash himself on the bed. Though, all those plans were pushed back when he saw you sitting on the couch; feet tapping the floor while you held up a magazine.

“Well, aren’t you home late?” You chuckled, glaring at him with disgust as you threw the magazine at his feet. He looked down and felt his heart drop when he saw the page.

BTS’ Park Jimin and model Kim Nahyeon, out on a ‘secret’ date?

“Kim… Nahyeon.” You breathed out, feeling a lump forming at your throat as the name rolled off your tongue. Kim Nahyeon was your rival in your high school years— the same girl that used to bully you was now taking away your husband from you.

“I swear, it’s not what it looks like.” Jimin pleaded, going near you but stopping when you stood up and lift your hand up. You shook your head and looked at him in disbelief. Your pupils were shaking; all because of anger, sadness and rage.

“I’ve heard way too many people say that, Park Jimin. My father said that to my mom. Youngjin said that to my sister when she caught him cheating on her—” you stopped, breathing deeply as the tears fell from your eyes.

“Jungkook said that to me too, but guess what? It is what it looks like.” You finished. Something inside Jimin seemed to burst and he was suddenly filled with anger as he approached you. Taking a step back, you shook in fear as you looked at him.

“Don’t compare me with Jungkook. I’m not him. Do you still love him, is that it? Go back to him then! I don’t need you and I certainly can get Nahyeon or any girls anytime I want.” He screamed at your face, his hands slamming the wall behind you making you flinch.

“Eomma?” A small voice called out. Jaehyun stood at the top of the stairs, looking at you and Jimin. His lips were in a pout as he saw Jimin’s red face— obviously from anger.

“Go back to your room, Jaehyun.” Your husband grumbled, standing up straight.

“Did you fi—”

“I said, go back to your room, Jaehyun!” Jimin shouted, his form turning to look at your son, who was now cowering and whimpering. He ran off back to his room with hands rubbing his eyes. Jimin looked back at you, eyes burning in rage and opening his mouth to—

Slap!

“How dare you.” Jimin held his cheek that was slapped and looked at you with shock. Despite the tears that was falling, your hands were still clenched tightly although your knuckled were already turning white.

“How dare you speak to my son like that.” You grumbled, failing to keep yourself calm. You slapped him once more, this time a little bit weaker.

“I get that you have the right to be mad at me for not listening to you. But that doesn’t give you the right to shout at my son. Not when his own father can’t even do it himself.“ Your words were like another whole bunch of slap to Jimin. His heart dropped at how disappointed you looked like at him.

“And as you wish, I’ll certainly go back to Jungkook since you don’t need us here. I’m sure he’ll be happy to see his son.” You turned and stomped your way upstairs, leaving a shocked Jimin in the living room.

He snapped out of his thoughts and ran upstairs, following you. He stopped right in front the slightly opened door of Jaehyun’s bedroom, hearing your hushed whispers to your son.

“Let’s go see daddy Jungkook. Do you want to?” The small boy nodded, still sniffing as you rubbed his back. Jimin’s heart broke— he absolutely despised this. The moment when Jaehyun wants his real dad more than Jimin.

“Well, he wouldn’t like it if you’re like this. Please calm down, then we can go to him, okay?” You asked him, cradling him as he started to settle down. He mumbled something in your neck as you stood up, opening the door to find Jimin there.

Glaring at him, you got a bag from your bedroom and went back to Jaehyun’s. Jimin looked at you with panick as you laid the now sleeping Jaehyun on his bed, picking up clothes from his closet and shoving them into the bag.

“W-what are you doing?”

“Packing. My son wants to see his dad so I’ll let him.” You simply stated, shoving some sleepwear into the bag. You made your way to your bedroom and packed your own clothes. Jimin helplessly watched you before approaching you and grabbing your hands.

“Let me go!” You snapped, snatching your hand away and continuing your actions. You went back to Jaehyun and lifted him up, carrying him down the stairs with your bag hanging on your shoulders for dear life. You put him inside the car and shoved your bags into the back seat. Jimin ran to chase you before you even got inside the driver’s seat.

“Is it just like this? You running away, you hurting me?” He shouted from the porch, stopping you from your tracks. You looked at him and nodded, smiling at him sadly.

“You hurt my son. I guess we’re quits now.”

“What about our marriage?“ He called out to you once more.

“Our marriage? I don’t know. I love you but if my son’s scared of you, then let’s see where it goes.” You shrugged and went inside the vehicle, turning in the ignition and looking at Jimin— only to see his heartbroken face.

You were almost out of his vision when his phone dinged. He fished it out og his pocket and looked at it. A smile found its way to his lips as he read the message.

I’m sure we’ll be back after a day or two. Stop worrying. I love you. – Y/N

i can’t believe i have to explain this, but transphobia is not trans peoples’ fault. all the blame lies on cis people. they caused it. transphobia isn’t because of trans people fighting for our rights or venting about our experiences online, it’s a result of cis people’s ignorance and intolerance. don’t try to blame your bigotry on us.

a/n: Wow I am on a roll! Two Bellarke fics in two days…that’s gotta be some kind of record! ;) This is, I guess, what I can imagine happening between Clarke & Bellamy when she returns to camp. I heard something about Bob Morley saying that he’d probably resent Clarke for leaving and something about a fight and this is basically the result of that.

words like a loaded gun (shot out from a fire tongue)

It seems like it takes forever for her to come back.

Then one day he’s training some new guard recruits and he sees a flash of gold out of corner of his eye and there she is, strolling through camp with purpose like she hasn’t been gone for three months.

He couldn’t describe the feeling in the pit of his stomach if he was asked but he’d guess it’s a little bit of everything. Joy. Hate. Resentment.

Love.

He pushes that thought deep down and gives her an easy smile when she makes her way over to where he’s standing.

“Welcome back, Clarke.”

The smile she gives him is fake and doesn’t reach her eyes.

Keep reading

Once upon a time the always amazing krem-de-le-creme sent me a skype prompt that went as follows. 

Anders realizing Hawke had a bad day and tries to cook him dinner, fails horribly. Also, he and justice should fight about adjusting ingredients.

This is the result. I really don’t feel like I have their voices quite down yet? But I swore I’d try new pairings…

***

It’s late, definitely more night than evening, when Hawke finally throws open the doors of the mansion, weight balanced on the blade of his staff. Anders looks over at the sudden interruption in alarm but when he sees no blood, only fatigue, he turns back to his stack of parchment. Justice urges him back to writing - He is uninjured, do not be distracted. We must continue our work - flaring lightly beneath Anders’ skin, tracing tendrils of blue like vines up his hands from the tips of his fingers.

“Thought you’d be at the clinic, love. I went there first but it was locked.” Garrett’s voice as he calls across the hallway is hoarse, like it always is when he’s been yelling and Anders feels a momentary pang of regret that he had declined to go with him. Hawke sounds tired, exhausted really; each heavy footstep drags across the floor, as though lifting each boot is simply too much effort. Justice pushes it back down and he keeps writing.

“Closed up a few hours ago,” Anders says. “It wasn’t too busy today, we must have finally got the latest plague sweeping through Darktown under control.”

“Aren’t you going to ask me how the Wounded Coast was?” Hawke whispers into his ear and Anders jumps, actually jumps out of his chair. When did Hawke get so close? He must be slipping, not to hear footsteps so close behind him.

“How was it, my heart?” Anders asks absentmindedly as he puts quill to paper again and scrawls another line.

Hawke laughs as he stumbles forward, bracing himself on the back of Anders’ chair.

“Oh, you know how it is. Pouring. Raiders. Slavers. Spiders everywhere. But all in all, not too bad for a Tuesday.”

At this Anders lays his quill down despite Justice’s faintly flaring protest, looks up at Garrett and chuckles, laying a hand lightly across his cheek.

“I should have come with you, love,” he says, stroking calloused fingertips against the man’s overgrown stubble.

Hawke melts into the touch, closing his eyes only to snap them open again with a sheepish expression as his stomach rumbles so loudly that Dog twitches awake from his place in front of the fire and growls.

“I’m hungry…” he whines, casting a hopeful look at Anders who rolls his eyes lightly.

“What about Orana?”

“It’s her night off…” He trails off and it’s silent for a few moments before Garrett sighs heavily and continues. “I guess I’ll just go down to the Hanged Man… Alone… Find something that might only give me a mild case of food poisoning…”

Anders stops writing, he never can resist Hawke’s whining. Justice stirs as he drops the quill but Yes, this IS important, this IS Justice. How can we leave our lover to suffer? and the spirit within him quiets, settles to nothing more than a light, flickering imprint under his skin.

“I’ll make you something, my love,” Anders whispers, pressing a kiss against Hawke’s chin before he walks off towards the kitchens.

***

Hawke hears a loud clanging which jerks him from sleep, the imprint of the edge of the table carved across his cheek.

Off in the kitchen Anders’ voice raises until it’s nearly shrill and Hawke thinks that’s probably not a good sign. Whatever Anders is making does smell wonderful though he realizes as a loud growl from his stomach brings him back to reality.

“Justice, NO. You don’t even eat, stop adding things!” There’s another loud crash, as though a pan has been slammed onto the hearth.

“That is far too much salt, Justice. Maker, the last body you inhabited was a corpse. Corpses wouldn’t know what actual food tastes like.”

There’s a distant rumbling, much like a lightning spell, that he can’t translate into words just yet; not until he takes a deep breath and catches the faint metallic twinge of lyrium twisting in the air. Justice. It’s always Justice now and Hawke summons a thread of mana, listening intently to catch whatever the spirit adds.

“Humans require salt in order to live, as well as enjoy it. We must add more.”

That really doesn’t sound good. Nor does the answering, aggrieved sigh.

“Anders?” He tries to no answer. “Love? Are you two alright in there?”

“We’re fine!” Anders says as Hawke heard a dull thud, rather like a tin of spices - quite possibly the aforementioned salt - hitting the floor. “Don’t come in!”

Hawke groans. That is definitely a bad sign. He rises with a sigh, bracing against the edge of the table and walks over towards the kitchen.

“Anders?” He calls and just as he walks across the threshold there’s awhoosh and a high spark of flames from the hearth. “Shit!”

“I…” Anders stutters, staring at the fire rising higher with each passing second, wide-eyed. “Hawke…”

He pushes past Anders, priming winter’s grasp between his hands before releasing it onto the flames which sputter and flare before dying out.

“You alright, my love?” Garrett asks, stifling a cough as the smoke rises higher.

Anders smiles ruefully, raising a hand to rake through the strands of hair that have escaped his mussed ponytail. “I… we ruined your dinner, love.”

Hawke grins, taking the last few steps towards the blonde before pulling him into a soft, needy kiss.

“S’alright,” he mumbles around Anders’ lips. “Think I’d rather move on to dessert anyway.”