then they would flip a coin

“Burnscar.” Younger, maybe an older teenager or a young-looking twenty-something.  She looked almost normal, with her dark hair badly cut, but then I saw the vertical row of cigarette burns marking each of her cheeks, and a faint glow to her eyes.

This would probably be the one responsible for the charred corpse. Fire powers, naturally, though I’m not sure the exact nature of hers.

“Hatchet Face.”  This was one I hadn’t even heard of.  The man didn’t wear a mask, and his head was shaved.

Hatchet Face is a beautiful name.

He looked like he had been beaten, burned and just plain abused so often that his face was as much scar tissue than flesh, and he didn’t look like he’d been handsome to begin with.

I wonder if he flips a coin. (That’s a joke, I don’t think Wildbow would do that.)

I’m guessing this one’s a Brute of some variety.

anonymous asked:

Quick question: for a svtfoe oc princess what would you choose as cheekmarks, upside down triangles or crescent moons pointing up? Sorry to bother but I'm starting to write a svtfoe au fanfic and I don't know what to choose

No worries! Hmm that’s a good question. They both work well to be honest though l guess it comes down to personal preference. There’s so many star children its hard to keep track of them all and their marks! Even harder to come up with one so repeat marks tend to happen. Haha i guess you could always flip a coin or try another design. Like the triforce! or maybe some other phases of the moon? Oh! Astrological signs might be a good too. If you do use either one that you asked about , make sure to mention if somebody inspired you to create your ocs. Normally this wouldn’t be a problem but some anons have caused some serious trouble in the fandom recently and I wouldn’t want you get hate for writing your story. Good luck and try the coin flip, it helps me a lot. Happy writing!

gallusrostromegalus  asked:

Legit Question you might be able to shed some light on: How the FUCK did 50 shades get published? rapeyness and thematic issues aside, it reads like something that wouldn't get past quality control, let alone something they'd build a goddamn campagin around. What happened?

Contrary to popular belief, Fifty Shades of Grey was not just picked up off of fanfic net or wherever the fuck she hosted that Twilight rip off, resulting in insta fame and riches. It was in fact a self published novel through a print on demand indie press, before being acquired by a “reputable” publisher back in 2012.

The erotica gods flipped a coin that year it seems, Crucifix Nail Nipples or Fifty Shades. What a choice.

Like I said, James was self publishing through a small print on demand company in Australia at the time, where it was largely unsuccessful and would have stayed that way if it hadn’t started to circulate through the word of mouth of a few well known book bloggers, some trashing it for the pile of shit that it was, and others who presumably have no idea what safe kink is, claiming it as revolutionary

Which in turn lead to it being a sort of “oooh mommy porn on the rise, harmless fun or sinister decline in societal morals” think piece on local media, which in turn made more people interested in it, leading to legitimate publishers sitting up and going “but we want some of that money” and cutting James a deal and throwing a legitimate budget behind it, because presumably some people just want to watch the world burn.

To add insult to injury, the resulting success of Fifty Shades also caused Ann Rice’s Sleeping Beauty series to be reprinted, much to the dismay of anyone who had the misfortune to read it the first time.

Seriously. Don’t do it. It’s really not worth feeling like you need to remove your eyeballs and scour them with steel wool until the itching in your soul stops. I’m not trying to be funny here. That series is Not Okay. I draw the line at very few things, but Anne Rice and Sleeping Beauty went so far over that line it’s just a dot in the horizon. Love yourselves and read something else.

So yea. The short answer is: chance and luck. Oh she persevered with her fanbase to be sure, and that counts for something. But a lot of it was also luck, and being used as a rallying cry for white suburban mom’s everywhere to sassily inform everyone who didn’t even care, not to tell them what to enjoy and how sexual desire in women is healthy tyvm. Even if the book is a total odds with actual feminism, female empowerment, or anything remotely linked to healthy sex and resulted in a rise in sex related injuries everywhere. 

Seriously, if I find out any of you are using zip ties in your kink for anything other than equipment storage, I will personally emerge from the void with safety cutters and a long talk about safe, sane consensual kink, so help me gods.

pretty dirty pick up lines.

’ you look a lot like my next girlfriend/boyfriend. ’
’ are you a drill sergeant? because you have my privates standing at attention. ’
’ do you mix concrete for a living? because you’re making me hard. ’
’ if you’re feeling down, i can feel you up. ’
’ i’m no weather man, but you can expect more than a few inches tonight. ’
’ i may not go down in history, but i’ll go down on you. ’
’ are you from the ghetto? cause i’m about to ghetto hold of dat ass. ’
’ you know what i like in a girl? my dick. ’
’ are you a doctor? cause you just cured my erectile dysfunction. ’
’ i lost my virginity. can i have yours? ’
’ hey, you wanna do a 68? you go down on me, and i’ll owe you one. ’
’ you can call me cake, cause i’ll go straight to your ass. ’
’ roses are red, violets are fine. if i be the 6, will you be the 9? ’
’ i’m like a firefighter, i find ‘em hot and leave ‘em wet! ’
’ i’m hung like a tic tac. wanna freshen your breath? ’
’ you smell like trash. may i take you out? ’
’ i wanna floss with your pubic hair. ’
’ let’s have a party and invite your pants to come on down. ’
’ you’re so hot, even my pants are falling for you! ’
’ are you spaghetti cause i want you to meat my balls. ’
’ we should play strip poker. you can strip, and I’ll poke you. ’
’ do you like adele? cause i can tell you wanna be rolling in the d. ’
’ do you have a shovel? cause i’m diggin’ that ass! ’
’ damn, are you my new boss, because you just gave me a raise. ’
’ remember my name, because you’ll be screaming it later! ’
’ are you an elevator? cause i wanna go down on you. ’
’ are you a shark? cause i’ve got some swimmers for you to swallow. ’
’ do you work for papa johns? cause you’re a fine pizza ass. ’
’ are you from china? cause i’m china get in your pants. ’
’ why don’t you surprise your roommate and not come home tonight? ’
’ baby there’s a party in my pants and you are invited! ’
’ i’m looking for treasure, can i look around your chest? ’
’ if i flip a coin, what are my chances of getting head? ’
’ would you like a hotdog to go with those buns? ’
’ this may seem corny, but you make me really horny. ’
’ how about you make me the climax of your story? ’
’ that’s a nice set of legs, what time do they open? ’
’ my name is skittles… wanna taste my rainbow? ’
’ you remind me of a crop, because i wanna plow you. ’
GOT7 reaction they don't think you speak Korean so they say something sexual to you and you reply in Korean

Mark:

“Are you butt dialing? Because I swear that ass is calling me” “I could say the same for you” Mark would them burst out laughing embarrassed that you understood him 

Originally posted by morethangiulia

JB:

“If I flip a coin, what are the chances of me getting head” “Not much sense you used a pick up line” “Um okay sooo you can understand me and why didn’t you tell me”

Originally posted by jehbum

Jackson:

“Those are nice pants mind if i test the zipper” “Sure go ahead I don’t mind “Wait you can understand me I have said so many pick up lines why haven't you said anything before"

Originally posted by j-miki

Jinyoung:

“My magical watch says you’re not wearing any panties” “You are not wearing a watch though” “Wait..what..ummmm”’

Originally posted by jypnior

Youngjae:

“Your ass looks lonely without my hands on it” “I could say the same” Youngjae would freeze before laughing “I knew that you could understand me”

Originally posted by holyfuckmark

BamBam:

“Don’t worry, I played tetris as a kid. I can make it fit” “You said you didn’t know tetris” “Why why at of all the times you deiced to understand me now”

Originally posted by mauloveskpop

Yugyeom:

“Pizza is my second favorite thing to eat in bed” “Whats the first?” Goes blank turns around and drink water

Originally posted by markificent

~~~~~~~~~~~~~

~Admin Rosie

send my muse a pick up line
  • We’re going to dance to one song, then go back to my apartment and fuck.
  • You might be asked to leave soon. You are making the other women look bad.
  • What do I have to do to be your booty call?
  • What has 36 teeth and holds back the Incredible Hulk? My zipper.
  • With my IQ and your body, we could make a race of superchildren!
  • When I’m older, I’ll look back at all of my crowning memories, and I’ll think of the day my children were born, the day I got married, and the day that I met you.
  • That outfit would look great in a crumpled heap on my bedroom floor tomorrow morning.
  • Since we’ve been told to reduce waste these days, what you say we use these condoms in my pocket before they expire.
  • Your ass is so nice that it is a shame that you have to sit on it.
  • Were do you hide your wings?
  • Sit on my lap and we’ll get things straight between us.
  • Sit on my face and let me get to ‘nose’ you better?
  • You know what material this is? [Grab your shirt] Boyfriend material.
  • There are 265 bones in the human body. How would you like one more?
  • Your shirt has to go, but you can stay.
  • Hey, tie your shoes! I don’t want you falling for anyone else.
  • Wanna play midget boxing? You get down on your knees and give me a couple blows!
  • Your place or mine? Tell you what? I’ll flip a coin. Head at my place, tail at yours.
  • Would you like Gin and platonic, or do you prefer Scotch and sofa?
  • So, what are the chances of my balls slappin’ your ass tonight?
  • We’ll probably never see each other again, so let’s screw.
  • Wanna play “kite”? I lay down, you blow and we’ll see how high you can make me.
  • Will you be my girlfrien? I left out the ‘d’ cause you’ll get that later!
  • Which is easier? You getting into those tight pants or getting you out of them?
  • The FBI wants to steal my penis. Can I hide it inside you?
  • So, what are the chances that we can engage in anything more than just conversation?
  • You make me wish I weren’t gay!
  • Writes on a napkin: “Smile if you want to have sex with me.”
  • The only reason I would kick you out of bed would be to fuck you on the floor.
  • Wanna play Army? I lay down and you blow the hell outta me.
  • What is your favorite color? [Color] Mine too! Seems like we are soulmates.
  • Will you marry me for just one night?
  • Wanna play carnival? You sit on my face and I guess how much you weigh.
  • The only thing I want between our relationship is latex.
  • What are you doing tonight beside me?
  • Wanna fuck like bunnies?
  • Try me once and if you don’t like it, what have you wasted?
  • What, six hours of your life? It’d be more if you want foreplay.
  • You know the more I drink, the prettier you get!
  • You look like trash, may I take you out?

anonymous asked:

asafksajkljasda, shiro wasn't sent on the kerberos mission bc he's one of the best pilots he was sent so no one would have to experience the second hand embarrassment that comes from seeing shiro and keith interact. "sir we can't take it anymore" iverson sighs and rubs a hand over his face "just... shoot him into fucking space" "um which one sir" "flip a coin"

you know what? this ask made me laugh out loud in public. big mood dude. bigggggg fucking mood.

Being Sherlock and Mycroft’s Little Sister Would Involve

Requested by anon

Originally posted by charnamefic


  • Petty arguments with Sherlock about “trivial things” as Mycroft says but as soon as Mycroft tells you two to “Stop acting like children” you and Sherlock would turn on him. You imitating Mycroft, Sherlock with a quick comeback.
  • You’d be as smart as Sherlock but a little more absent minded. Sometimes you’d notice things that he wouldn’t but wouldn’t mention it because Sherlock probably already noticed and you’d just annoy him. Sherlock would soon realise you noticed different things so would start asking you.
  • They would both be very protective older brothers. Mycroft would be exhausted worrying about you both but he would know that if you and Sherlock went missing together you’d be fine.
  • Buying Sherlock Pirate themed birthday gifts every year. He raises an eyebrow at you but can’t help smiling when no one’s looking.
  • Buying Mycroft a keychain with an umbrella on it.
  • Often showing up to wherever Mycroft or Sherlock are because you’re “bored” and “need supervision, don’t I brother mine?”
  • Moriarty would get an interest in you. At first only to get to Sherlock but he quickly realises you’re quite interesting yourself. You’d tease him, mainly just to annoy Sherlock and Mycroft. Mycroft would “forbid” you from seeing him but you’d just laugh, knowing that wouldn’t work.
  • Sherlock calling you once to ask you for advice with Jeanine or Irene. He hung up because you wouldn’t stop laughing for three whole minutes.
    “Are you quite finished?”
    ‘Yes, sorry I just-” You burst into laughter again and Sherlock gives up.
  • When you were younger you’d be trying constantly to get their attention. You’d have learnt what interests them and would use this to your advantage. When you were in your teens, you would put yourself in slightly dangerous situations to get their attention. This would annoy Mycroft but amuse Sherlock.
  • They’d call you to settle their arguments. You’d flip a coin and give them a quick answer when you were preoccupied.
  • Teasing them, and receiving the same in return.
  • Learning to fight with a normal umbrella (without the sword) just to annoy Mycroft. He thinks it’s quite impressive.
  • John would at first think you were Sherlock’s girlfriend, or Mrs Hudson’s grand daughter. You’d think this was hilarious but Sherlock would just roll his eyes and carry on with the previous topic.
  • Sherlock worrying about you when you call him to say you’re bored. He picks you up and takes you on a case, knowing what you tend to do when you get bored.
  • Lestrade would be impressed by you. He’d quite enjoy talking to you. 
  • Even though Sherlock and Mycroft could be arrogant, petty and overprotective, you’d love them, and would be sure to remind them of this constantly (if only to make them uncomfortable).

Being Mycroft’s Daughter Would Include

Masterlist

the five times you lay your eyes on bucky || b.b

Relationship: Biker!Bucky x reader

Summary: The five times you lay your eyes on Bucky. 

Warnings: none!!

Word Count: 1.8k

A/N: honestly I wrote this on a whim and I kinda love it ???


The first time you lay your eyes on Bucky you’re just starting your late night shift at the diner. Your eyes lock with his as you tie your apron around your waist, blushing as he sends a wink in your direction. 

It was Friday night, which meant it was busy with intoxicated people flowing in from the pub across the street to the diner in search of some greasy food to satisfy their cravings. 

You were overwhelmed, serving five tables all at once, trying to get their orders out in a timely fashion while refilling their drinks. It’s not like you meant to do it on purpose, you were just rushing through the orders that your hand knocked over a man’s drink as you took their menu. 

“Oh my gosh, I’m so sorry,” you stumbled out as you grabbed a towel, patting down the table before grabbing the now empty cup from it’s position on it’s side, a rough hand catching your wrist, “you better be gettin’ me a new one for free,” the man spat in your face aggressively before pushing you harshly away from the table making you stumble. 

Tears formed in your eyes as you mumbled out an another apology, being cut off by an unfamiliar voice halfway through, “that’s no way to treat a lady,” the voice barked behind you, but it didn’t make you cower, it comforted you. 

“And if you’ve got a problem with her you best be comin’ to me first,” whoever was behind you spoke again making the man nod his head before apologizing to you repeatedly.

You quickly walked away behind the counter, footsteps following you as you finally looked up to see Bucky’s concerned eyes ghost over your face, “he didn’t hurt ya, did he doll?” He asked in a gentle voice, nothing like he sounded just seconds ago.

Tears had spilled past your eyes and onto your cheek as you nodded, unable to form a sentence, still in shock and completely overwhelmed, “I promise he won’t be botherin’ you no more,” Bucky said again, a smile appearing on your face as he wiped away a stray tear. 

“Thanks, Bucky,” you croaked as he let out a small chuckle, “anytime, doll,” he winked before he made his way out of the diner, a small group of men following him as they got onto their bikes, engines roaring to life. 

Your eyes met Bucky’s one more time through the glass as he did a small salute with his fingers before riding away into the night leaving you with butterflies in your stomach and a hurricane of thoughts in your mind. 


The second time you’d seen Bucky was walking home after a horrible date, your arms crossed over your chest as you kicked a couple of stray rocks and twigs with your heel clad shoes, not caring if they were getting scuffed all the while mumbling about how much of a prick your date was. 

“Rough night?” A voice brought you out of your thoughts as you turned to your left to see Bucky leaning against his bike, arms crossed over his chest as his leather jacket and black jeans hugged every muscle. 

“You wouldn’t believe it,” you chuckled dryly as you stood on the pavement in front of Bucky, “Lemme guess,” Bucky smirked as he straightened out his posture, “all talk no action sorta guy?” He guessed as you dropped your head, chuckling, “how’d you guess?” You asked almost rhetorically as Bucky shrugged his shoulders, “lucky guess,” he said as he moved to grab a helmet. 

“How ‘bout I give you a ride home?” He suggested, holding out the helmet to you as you thought it over, “why not,” you shrugged before Bucky got on his bike, you following his actions as you loosely wrapped your arms around his torso, “you’re gonna have to hold on tighter than that, doll,” he chuckled as you tightened your grip on him as his engine roared to life once more. 

“Thanks for the ride,” you said, passing his helmet to him as he smiled, “it was my pleasure, darlin’,” he said before you both fell into a sort of awkward silence, “well, I should get going,” you said as he nodded his head, “yeah for sure,” he said but you didn’t move. 

You turned around taking one step before turning around hastily walking over to Bucky, giving him a kiss on his cheek, “thanks again,” you whispered as a blush crept over your cheeks, “like I said, anytime, doll,” he said, his breath fanning over your face from your close proximity. 

Your breath hitched in your throat as his fingers moved a strand of hair behind your face, “better get home before your parents start to get worried darlin’,” he whispered as you nodded, practically skipping up the steps to your home. 


The third time that your eyes landed on Bucky was when you were grabbing the mail on a Sunday morning, fluffly robe, cat pj pants, and koala slippers. Your heart kicked as his eyes landed on yours, a smirk making its way onto his face. 

You cursed yourself for stepping out of the house in the state you were in, hoping that Bucky would continue to mow the neighbours lawn instead on striking up a conversation with you. 

Luck was not on your side as Bucky jogged up to you, smirk not faltering. 

“Mornin’ stranger,” he chuckled as you grabbed the multiple envelopes from your mailbox, “mornin’ Buck,” you giggled as he crossed his muscular arms over his chest, the tank top he was wearing left little to the imagination. 

“You mowing lawns now?” You teased as he chuckled, “Mrs. Braverman needed a strong, handsome fella to help her out,” he winked as you rolled your eyes, “then get back to work, Barnes,” you said walking back towards your front door. 

“I sure will, kitten,” he shouted back as you sighed knowing you had just gotten a knew nickname from him, “never again,” you mumbled to yourself, stepping inside the house, swearing to throw out those dreaded pyjama pants. 


The fourth time you saw Bucky was when you walked passed an ally hearing someone groan in pain as you did. You told yourself that you should just ignore it, that it wasn’t a good idea to get mixed up with whoever’s business it was. 

That was until you heard a man snicker, “should’a thought twice ‘bout challengin’ me, Barnes.” 

You took a deep breath mustering up as much courage as you could before venturing into the alley, your heels clacking along the pavement, echoing so much that it got the men’s attention.

Bucky was on the ground, face bloodied as three men stood over him, “what’re you doin’ here, little lady,” one of the men snickered, coming closer to you. He reeked of body odour and whiskey, almost making you sick to your stomach, “let him go,” you said sternly, eyes flickering over to Bucky’s whose were pleading for you to just run. 

“Or what?” They taunted as you rolled your eyes, “you really wanna beat up a lady? Go ahead,” you smirked as all the men snarled before brushing past you, “you’re lucky your girl saved you, Barnes,” they spat, “next time you won’t be lucky,” they barked before leaving the alley. 

“Are you crazy!” Bucky gasped as he jumped up, slightly limping towards you, “don’t you ever do that again, ya hear me, doll?” He said, hands cupping your face as his desperate eyes searched yours. 

“I couldn’t let them hurt you,” you whispered, his thumb rubbing over your cheeks as he closed his eyes, shaking his head, “let’s get out of here,” he said as you nodded. You wrapped your arm around his torso as he wrapped his around your shoulder for support before you made it to your house. 

“Sit,” you commanded as he did what he was told, sitting on the covered toilet as you grabbed a bunch of medical supplies, “you’re lucky my parents are doctors,” you joked as you began cleaning his face, “that I am,” he mumbled, watching your concentrated expression as you moved on fixing him up. 

“There,” you said, throwing the last piece of bloodied tissue in the trash, “all done,” you smiled as Bucky examined his face in the mirror, “you’re real good at this, sure you don’t got anyone else to practice on?” He half-joked as you chuckled, “I’m a fast learner,” you smiled as he brushed some of your hair behind you ear, cupping your jaw with his hand. 

“Thank you,” he mumbled as your eyes fixated on each others. Everything around you seemed to still as Bucky slowly leaned in, until his lips were just inches from yours. 

You wrapped your arms around his neck, standing on your tippie toes as you closed the space between the two of you, connecting your lips in a gentle kiss, Bucky’s free hand pulling you closer to him. 

“You’re very welcome,” you winked as you pulled apart, leaving Bucky’s head spinning. 


The fifth time you saw Bucky he was stood outside the carnival entrance, flipping a coin as he leaned against the wooden fence, eyes searching for your own. The second they met yours he dropped his coin and pushed off the fence to embrace you in a hug. 

“You came,” he said, awestruck by your presence, “I told ya I would,” you said, wrapping your arms around his torso as he chuckled, pressing a kiss to your forehead before leading you inside. 

It took weeks of convincing, but you had finally agreed on going on a date with Bucky. You were hesitant, not because you didn’t like him, but because your parent’s would surely have heart attacks if they found out you were going out with the town’s bike gang leader. 

“I’m, uh, really happy you’re here,” Bucky said shyly as he intertwined his fingers with yours, a blush creeping up onto his cheeks, “is the infamous Bucky Barnes blushing?” You teased, tilting his chin up with your index and middle finger. 

“Am not,” he said defensively, pulling you towards the ferris wheel, “I’m just a little cold,” he tried to cover up as you giggled, “whatever you say,” you teased as he wrapped his arms around your torso. 

“It’s so beautiful,” you said in awe as the ferris wheel reached the top, “not as beautiful as you, doll,” Bucky quipped as you hid your face in the crook of his neck in a desperate attempt to hide your own blush.

“Oh is the infamous [Y/N] [Y/L/N] blushing,” Bucky mocked your previous words as you narrowed your eyes at him, “you’re lucky you’re cute,” you said as he pulled you closer to him, “ditto,” he mumbled against your lips before pressing them in a passionate kiss making your toes curl. 

“You should sneak out more often,” Bucky chuckled as you whimpered at the loss of his lips against yours, “less talking more kissing,” you mumbled before threading your fingers through his hair as he happily pressed his lips against yours again. 

Needless to say it was a bit difficult to keep your hickey’s covered from your parents as they scolded you. 

Thank God for fall or else your parents would be livid about the marks on your thighs. 

The Compliment Game

(Still writers blocked. Here’s an old story I’ve never posted before, it’s good but I always felt like it deserved a second part and could never come up with one. It works as a one shot but it just could be… y’know?) Eighth Year fic, 3K word count.


“Welcome to detention, lads,” Ruz Yarrow, their new Potions professor, said with a pleasant smile and a lovely Scottish lilt.

Draco kept his gaze locked on his hands in his lap. Harry bit his lip nervously. Professor Yarrow didn’t give detentions out often and they were rumored to the worst. Only no one would say what happened in them, and a bunch of kids with active imaginations only conjured the worst possible scenarios. It was all a little unsettling.

Professor Yarrow had that way about her. She was only five foot five and slight as a wisp, with curly brown hair that was almost always tied back, brown skin and eyes; and yet she was always a bit unnerving. It might have had something to do with the way she always seemed to be smiling like something delightfully awful was just about to happen. She was a very good teacher but took an inordinate amount of glee out of cauldron explosions. Sometimes she even caused them herself, as teaching examples. It was most of the student body’s opinion that the new Potions Professor had a very strange personality indeed.

Professor Yarrow circled around behind them, “See those cauldrons?” she stopped between their shoulders and pointed to the stack of cauldrons reaching the ceiling, stinking of sulfur and dragon liver.

They both nodded and relaxed just a touch, scrubbing cauldrons wasn’t that bad, it was sort of what was expected in a detention.

“Good,” Yarrow went on, “Keep them in mind now, y'hear? During this detention the two of y'are gonna play-” she paused, apparently for effect, “-a compliment game.”

“A what?!” They both blurted, turning around to stare up at her.

Professor Yarrow smiled that gentle unnerving smile of hers, as she walked around back in front of them, “Y'heard me. It’s simple, y'ken. Just take turns give'n each other compliments. If'n y'can’t, or y'say somethin’ a bit rude or cruel, y’ll washs a cauldron wit a dollop of elbow grease, while the rest of us watches you wit scorn and maybe mockery for bein’ a right silly bugger.”

Harry and Draco looked at each other with apprehension.

Keep reading

Pick Me Up (optional bias smut)

(yes I did use ioi’s song as a title for my smut pls don’t fight me) 

warnings: smut, horrible pick-up lines

pairing: reader (fem) x optional bias (male)

A/N: I thought about Ilhoon from BTOB when I wrote this but you can literally imagine anyone! I didn’t proof read this bc it’s late and I wanted to post it, but I’ll do that tomorrow. I hope you won’t find mistakes and even if you do, enjoy reading!! x

(H/N means “his name”)

MASTERLIST



You were convinced. He was the most annoying fuckboy you had ever met. There were at least 10 other girls in your class, that were just as good looking as you. But for some reason he had chosen you. You didn’t understand why, but ever since he had first seen you, he hadn’t stopped trying to get with you. The amount of times he had asked you for your number was out of control. Not that you were going to give it to him any time soon.

You had to admit, he was smooth. He never seemed to run out of energy when it came to making up pick-up lines and asking you about your previous boyfriend. You had broken up with him after he had cheated on you. It turned out he had only been in it for the sex, and it prompted you to have lost all trust in boys. Otherwise, mr. fuckboy was the annoying but smart kid in class, who every teacher wanted to hate. They simply couldn’t, though, because no matter how many silly remarks he made, he always made up for them with just as many clever ones. He did manage to make you laugh too, at times when you weren’t busy being annoyed at him. All he seemed to think about was sex. And you.

The worst part about hating his acting though, was, by far, his handsomeness. Of course you would never admit it in his presence, but you didn’t exactly think he was ugly. But being attractive wasn’t all it took to make you open up to him. A boy. Boys, of whom you knew you shouldn’t trust them ever again. Sometimes you felt yourself doubting your devotion when you stared at him. When he grinned slyly after having made a smooth remark towards you before he turned around in his seat, facing the teacher who had probably warned him about interrupting the lesson already. But you were strong-willed.

“Shut up,” you muttered at him under your breath, glancing at the clock in the corner of the class room. 5 minutes to go. You can do this. He grinned, not fazed by your comment. He had just showed you an actual screw he had brought from home. “Wanna screw?” had his exact words been. You had never been this done with anyone. Lucky for him, your teacher had no interest in warning his students for interrupting. Especially because no one was listening anymore when there were only 4 minutes of the lesson left.

“I admit, not my best one. Here’s another one,” he said. Oh boy, here we go again. “If I flip a coin, what are my chances of getting head?”

You wished in that exact moment you could slap his smirk off his face. Why did he have to sit in front of you? 3 minutes left.

“Your chances are smaller than zero, how many times do I have to tell you?” you muttered.

“Actually, my chances would be 50%. But I guess you- Ow!” he let out, as you had smacked his arm playfully. “You know you’ll say yes one day.”

“In your dreams,” you laughed ironically. “Can’t you just behave like any other normal student for a minute?”

And so he did. For the last minute, he turned around and shut up. You were almost impressed. Now and then you caught him taking a glimpse at the clock on the wall, eager to leave just like anyone else in the room. At the same time, you caught yourself staring at him. Black skinny jeans, deep blue sweater, some sneakers. Nothing out of the ordinary. His hair looked a little messy from where he ran his hand through it earlier (Not that you had noticed that, too). Then, the bell rang. Finally. Voices bubbled up and chairs scratched over the floor. You packed your bag just as he stood up, placing his own bag on his table. Rummaging through it, he pulled his phone out, checking the screen. A second later, his face darkened in concern.

“Crap. There’s something wrong with my phone,” he cursed. You were 900% ready to get out of this classroom, but being the good person you were, you worried at his genuinely stressed expression. When he was being normal for a minute, you couldn’t help but be polite.

“What is it?” you asked. He looked at you for a moment, then sighed.

“Your number isn’t in it,” he said, sounding completely serious. Was he for real?

“And that’s the way it should be,” you caught yourself. “I need my break from you when I’m at home.”

And with that, you left him standing. If you just had his determination and used it for school work, you’d have heavenly grades. You dragged your body home, feeling unusually tired. You didn’t have a big appetite, which was unusual, and couldn’t focus on anything.

The next day you were sick. You were sure it was nothing serious, but decided to stay at home either way. At least in your bed you would be left alone. No pick-up lines for a day seemed like a week of holidays to you. It was a Thursday filled with coughing, sipping hot tea and watching your favorite TV show. You felt better in the evening, but not exactly healthy.

The next day you walked into the kitchen. It was morning and you were ready to leave for school again. The second your mother heard the ugly cough leave your throat, though, she sent you straight back to bed. Fine, you thought. Even though you didn’t feel sick anymore, another day in bed surely wouldn’t hurt. It was Friday anyway, allowing you to be excited about the weekend already.

Around noon you decided to check your phone for messages from your friends. You were sure you had missed homework and other school stuff you didn’t exactly feel like dealing with. To your surprise, none of your friends had messaged you about homework. Instead, you found a text from an unknown number.


unknown number: hey

                                                you: who is this?? 

unknown number: if you were a Pokemon, I’d choose you

                                               you: how the hell did u get my number??????? 

unknown number: we got paired up for a project

                                               you: what u talking abt??? 

unknown number: mr. smiths made us a pair for the history projects so ur friend had to give me ur number. its due to monday

                                               you: what the hell???? 

unknown number: I didn’t come up with the dead line

unknown number: btw what’s with all the question marks

                                              you: it’s called confusion

                                              you: so when do we meet up? 

unknown number: tomorrow? my place


You knew your parents wouldn’t be at home all day, and praying that his would be, you said yes. So there was still a small chance you wouldn’t have to spend an entire afternoon in a house alone with him.

On Saturday afternoon you had thrown on a random sweater with some pants, your sneakers and left your house. When you pulled up in his driveway you instantly noticed the lack of cars. He’s not getting into my pants, you told yourself. Why did you even have to remind yourself? For some reason, you felt nervous.

He ripped the door open around two seconds after you had rang the bell. In surprise, you flinched. The way he leaned against the door frame and grinned smugly made you frustrated. And you hadn’t even entered the house.

“Come in,” he made a dramatic gesture behind him, waving you inside. It almost made you laugh. Almost.

“Okay, first of all, rules.” You entered the house and looked around.

“Rules? What is this? BDSM?” he asked. You rolled your eyes. He nodded his head towards the stairs and you followed him.

“Focus,” you said, making him chuckle even more. “No pick-up lines. We need to get stuff done if this needs to be finished by Monday. I really need a good grade on this. Smiths already hates me for no reason.”

“Do I really distract you that badly?” he asked, smirking and turning around to you. His hair was messy, but in a good-looking way. His collar bones peeked out from under his shirt. You guessed he did distract you a little.

“See? That’s what I meant. Keep those comments in. At least until we’re back at school,” you said, entering his room after him. It looked cozy, and like he had just cleaned up. You hadn’t expected him to be messy, but not this clean either.

“Oh, I’m sorry. That’s literally my character, if you haven’t noticed yet, sweetheart,” he said, sitting down at his table, smirking again.

“Sweetheart?” you asked in disbelief. You realized that he wouldn’t stop with his comments until you did. And because fighting wouldn’t get you anywhere, you decided to shut up and start working. Your topic was the most boring subject you had ever heard about, making it even more bothersome to research it. It had been at least three hours. He had kept quite calm throughout it all, but you still seemed to struggle to make progress. You had taken your space on the floor, leaning against his bed. Around you, pens and papers were sprawled across the floor while you bit your lip trying to figure out a structure for your presentation.

“I need a break,” he murmured quietly from his desk. You only hummed, your thoughts focused on the presentation. Your hand ran through your hair, sighing in stress. He cleared his throat, making you jump.

“Looks like you could need a break too,” he laughed. “I’m gonna get a glass of water. Do you want one as well?”

Still in concentration, you snapped out of your trance slowly. You got up while nodding, deciding he was right, for once.

You watched the back of his head as he walked. The work had made you sleepy and dizzy, a little as if you were drunk. Crazy thoughts flooded your brain all of a sudden. Your fingertips tickled at the thought of running your hands through his hair, down the nape of his neck. You had always loved his neck, you just never had admitted it. Shaking your head, you asked yourself what had suddenly gotten into you. All you hoped for was for the water to wake you up and let you focus again. You entered the kitchen.

You thanked him when he handed you a glass of cold water. After you had downed it, you still didn’t think clearer.

“I don’t think we’ll get to finish this today. My mom wants me to be home by eight for dinner,” you admitted. It was already half eight. “What are you doing tomorrow?”

For a moment he blinked at you, then he grinned. You already knew what that expression meant.

“I mean…hopefully you…,” he mumbled. When you playfully lifted your hand as if to smack him, he held up both hands in surrender and giggled. “Okay! I don’t have plans, alright?”

“That’s literally all you had to say,” you let out, shaking your head at him.

“Y/N. Be honest for once. You like my pick-up lines,” he urged you. You laughed ironically. “Deep down, you do.”

“You drive me insane,” you said.

“That wasn’t a no!” he yelled in success, putting down his glass. “Come on. What’s so bad about me? What wrong have I ever done to you?”

You were taken aback by his sudden question. What wrong had he done to you? He had never been rude, only his goofy, sex-obsessed self. You glanced at his face. His eyes were waiting for an answer, hands crossed above his chest.

“I’m just not very fond of boys after my ex cheated-” you began.

“Seriously? You compare me to your ex-boyfriend?” he asked, genuinely offended. It was true, he was nothing like your ex. Much funnier, to begin with.

“I’m not comparing you! I guess I just don’t want to get involved with a guy any time soon,” you admitted.

“It’s not like I want to get married to you!” he argued.

“Wow, thanks,” you laughed at his defensiveness. “What do you want, then?”

He tilted his head at your question as if saying “Are you serious?”. Suddenly, he took a step towards you, startling you. Your body backed up against the counter, hands gripping the hard material as he studied your face.

“You know exactly what I want,” he breathed out. His face was so close to yours, you could feel the air from his lungs on your skin. It made your heart beat restlessly. His hand went under your chin, as if telling you. It was you, he wanted. You waited for his lips, but they never touched yours. He was waiting for your reaction. You realized he wasn’t going to kiss you without your consent. The boy wasn’t just determined, he also had one hell lot of self-control. Unlike you.

You closed the space between the two of you, lips colliding. Kissing him felt like triggering an avalanche of built-up frustration and emotions that had only been waiting to break free. His hands grabbed your sides roughly. He finally had what he wanted. In agreement, he let out a low sound when you pushed your body against his, chests touching. His tongue swiped over your lip, and you opened your mouth instantly. He tasted of bubble gum and smelled of cologne. His hands were even more eager than his mind, exploring your hips and waist, tugging at your clothes impatiently. You felt as if a ton-heavy weight was slowly lifting off you as you relaxed against his controlling touch and dominant kisses. He was right. Sex wouldn’t hurt your feelings. Not like your ex-boyfriend had. But your thoughts of him washed away in a blink when the boy in front of you pulled away and turned his attention to your neck. Your breath was shaky when he kissed you roughly, his teeth scraping against your skin. For a moment you let your head hang back, closing your eyes. His lips were soft but so passionate at the same time.

When your eyes opened, they fell onto the clock above the fridge. It was five to eight. Your eyes widened in shock.

“Wait, hold on,” you mumbled, softly tugging at his shirt. The look he gave you resembled a puppy whose food had been taken away. “I gotta get home, or else my mom kills me. She wants to have a family dinner. I’m sorry.”

He pouted, but nodded hesitantly. You wished you could’ve just been that rebel that ignored their parents for once. But that’s not who you were.

“But you’ll come over again tomorrow, right?” he asked, hope in his look as he showed you the way to the door.

“Yeah. To finish the project,” you emphasized.

“Sure,” he grinned, rolling his eyes. For the first time, you couldn’t blame him for thinking about sex now.

“I mean it! We’re not even halfway through, especially the presentation is not even close to finishing. We still need to write the entire text and draw the map. It’ll never work out,” you suddenly started to worry. Tomorrow was your last day and you had to spend it working with a boy that was sexually frustrated because of you. Which you, by the way, were as well.

“I’ll work on it tonight, maybe I get to finish it,” he said, completely calm.

“If you finish the project tonight I’m the princess of China,” you joked.

“And you’d let me have what I want?” he asked, unfazed. Let him have what he wanted. You laughed at him. There was no way he could finish the project by himself, in that short time. But a boy can dream.

“Yeah, sure,” you said, already out the door. “Bye. See you tomorrow.”


The next day at 3 you left your house, your bag full of pens, books and paper. You remembered the way to his house perfectly, and pulled up in front of it 10 minutes later. You chewed on your lip nervously whilst waiting for the door to swing open. You had thought the feeling would’ve gone away by now. But no way. The second you laid eyes on him when he opened up, you wanted him even more than yesterday. His hair looked freshly done but you wished you could mess it up. His lips were parted slightly as his gaze ran over your figure. You hadn’t worn anything special, just casual clothes. Yet he eyed you as if he never wanted to look at anyone else. When his look met yours, you looked away shyly.

“Come on in,” he said, completely relaxed. Without words you followed him to his room. The half which had the bed looked practically untouched. The other half, however, was a tornado-like chaos. Various pens sprawled across all surfaces and paper with messy notes covered every surface.

“Told you,” he grinned proudly. You lifted your eyebrows when he carefully stepped over the paper maze and grabbed a stack of them. Proudly, he handed it to you. You couldn’t believe your eyes. While he watched you, your eyes scanned the text quickly, making sure it made sense. You had known he was smart, but not this smart. Suddenly you wished you could do all of your projects with him.

“You did this by yourself? Last night?” you asked, still surprised. He chuckled.

“Indeed. It took me until three in the morning, but it’s done now,” he said. “Not a big deal.”

“Why didn’t you work that hard yesterday when I was over?” you asked.

“Honestly? I wanted you to stay over longer,” he admitted. His determination was definitely out of control.

“And now you asked me to meet again. If you were finished anyway you didn’t need me to come over,” you noticed. Then you remembered his words from last evening. He wanted his reward. You caught him licking his lips and your stomach flipped. Quickly, you looked over the text in your hands again.

“Is this how badly you want to get into my pants?” you joked, gesturing to the paper.

„Actually I think I just discovered my love for the history of the Medieval and Modern Africa,“ he explained matter-of-factly. You laughed out, and at the sound his eyes crinkled up too.

“Oh, of course, I’m sure of it,” you played along. “You know I could still say no now, and you’d have to accept it, right?”

He thought for a second.

„Sure, you could and I would. That sounds a lot like you’re saying yes, though,” he commented, smirking his famous, way too confident smile. He had never been more right and you knew it.

“Look. This one time, I’ll let you get away with it. But for the record, you can’t buy me with work. I’m only agreeing because I wa-” you started, holding up your finger. Suddenly, he walked over to you, grabbed your sides and attacked your mouth with his. You let out a surprised sound and stumbled backwards. You didn’t fall, though, because his grip on you was tight and after three chaotic steps your back hit the wall. There was no way for you to leave now, (not that you wanted to anyway) as his hands lay flat against the wall on your sides and he kissed you like his life depended on it.

He wasn’t doing anything particularly dominant, but the way he had you caged between the wall and his body and controlled the way you kissed him made your knees feel weak. Your previous boyfriend had made you feel good, but in a very sweet way. The boy that was all over you right now, however, seemed to not have the word vanilla in his vocabulary. You had no problem with him being rough. When you thought about it you let out a low whimper, to which he responded with a low growl.

“I’ve waited for so long, I thought I was gonna go insane,” he breathed against your lips as your chest heaved at the intensity of his kisses. You didn’t know how to speak anymore. Instead, you grabbed his neck and pulled him against you again. The way his tongue moved over yours made you wonder what else it could do to you. Involuntarily, your legs pressed together.

His hands were pulling your hair softly before moving downwards. Almost innocently they wandered over your chest, but you instantly arched your back, wanting more. They continued over your sides, holding you firmly by your hips. Then, they began lifting your top eagerly. You didn’t hesitate. It landed on the floor and meanwhile, he took off his own. You eyes barely had any time to admire his toned upper body, before they closed when his lips attacked your neck fiercely. His hands grabbed your ass and you moaned slightly. The way his lips played with your senses made you feel like melting underneath his teasing touch. They were rough and biting, and a second later soft and soothing. Your head leaned against the wall as he skillfully opened your bra, letting you toss it to the side carelessly. You whimpered at the sudden contact when his lips closed around one of your nipples, his hand playing with the other. His teeth grazed over your skin repeatedly, surely leaving purple marks. At least no one would see them there.

When he pressed his body against yours, you felt the bulge in his pants had grown. That didn’t take long, you thought proudly. On the other hand, you weren’t surprised. He was basically begging you to let him fuck you on a daily basis. You laughed quietly. While he was playing with the waistband of your pants, almost dragging them down, he reacted.

“What’s so funny?” he asked, confused but amused. You blushed, helping him to get rid off your pants, his following afterward.

“I was just thinking about how happy you must be now,” you explained, teasing him.

“I’m in heaven,” he didn’t hesitate to say. You were busy laughing as he took your arm and lead you to his comfortable looking bed. Turns out it didn’t just look the way. First, you admired his soft sheets, but then your focus diverted to him. To his mouth, to be exact. He kissed down your chest teasingly, but you felt how eager he was to get to your lower region. His hands stroking over your hips so tenderly were a massive contrast to his mouth. He licked and bit your skin until he reached the material of your underwear.

“You’re sure about this, right?” he asked. You wondered about his sudden hesitation.

“Of course I am,” you assured him, begging him to continue with your look.

“And you’ve done this before, right?” he asked. You were taken aback.

“What made you think I haven’t?” you asked, getting really impatient by the second.

“I just thought…, maybe you didn’t react to my pick up lines and jokes because you had never-” he explained. You laughed out. He looked puzzled.

“The problem wasn’t that I hadn’t had sex before, which I have, by the way. Your pick-up lines are just really, really bad,” you joked, grinning at him. He was playfully outraged.

“Okay, wait, you’ll love this one. Why do-,” he began, but was cut off by your voice.

“I am laying on your bed, half-naked and you’re trying to impress me with a pick-up line? You can do better than that,” you scolded him, chuckling. The tension between your legs became more unbearable with every passing second of him not touching you, and you couldn’t handle it.

“You’re right. I’ll show you how to be truly impressed, don’t worry,” he was back to being his cocky self. You were almost glad, because finally he pulled down your underwear. You lifted yourself up on your forearms, watching him as he breathed hot air against your wet center. Gently, his arms wrapped around your bent legs, laying on your lower stomach.

“Please, hurry,” you begged. He smirked, and you almost regretted saying it. Then you sucked in a breath when he licked a stripe over your folds, teasing you endlessly. He chuckled lowly when you let out a mix between a whimper and a groan, only leaving you more eager. His tongue was way too gentle on you. Forcingly, he pushed your legs apart further, giving him better access. When his tongue went over your clit, he suddenly stopped the game. While his finger nails dug into your stomach’s skin, he sucked on your clit, first hard, then softly and so on. He hadn’t been lying. Your throat left a breathy moan when he continued with licking, this time stronger than at first. As time went on, his muscle became faster and you felt yourself become weaker. You had to admit, he looked extra good laying between your thighs. You smiled in bliss, forgetting everything else around you.

“You’re so damn good at this,” you said, but the last part ended in a whimper when he payed extra attention to your sweet spot, making you see stars for a second.

“Told you,” he mumbled, barely pulling away. The vibrations his voice sent through you made you grip the bedsheets tightly. “If you would’ve only realized it sooner.”

He smirked up at you, not stopping his actions. Your stomach twisted in pleasure and anticipation. At this point, holding yourself up was no point anymore. You let your upper body fall backwards, the soft sheets catching you as you closed your eyes. You felt like you wanted to get even closer, although his face was basically buried between your legs. You squirmed under his grip when you felt yourself near your release.

“Stay still for me,” he ordered. There was only a little dominance in his voice, yet it made you want to behave. Even though you knew you couldn’t.

“But I’m so close,” you whimpered. He only took your words as a motivation. Faintly, you wondered how he had gotten so good with his mouth. His hands made you shiver even though they were gripping your body with roughness, keeping you in place. As you felt yourself get closer and closer to your release, your hands went to his hair. He slowed down for a second, but then he realized you didn’t want him to stop. The short break seemed to have left you even more sensitive. When he began sucking your sweet spot again, you almost couldn’t take it. His tongue leaped at your clit quickly. All you could do was close your eyes and attempt to control your moans. Within seconds you were coming, squirming underneath his touch while pulling his hair. Your back arched off the mattress and you moaned his name, no one else on your mind. He slowed down his actions and you shook slightly when he licked your over-sensitive clit one last time before pulling away.

For a few seconds you caught your breath, feeling his arms loosening their grip and his hands stroking over your skin soothingly. You stared at the ceiling for a while as your chest heaved, eyes blinking slowly. For some reason, you didn’t have enough of him yet. When you looked down, he was already staring up at you, grinning proudly at your expression. He gave you no signs of being eager, even though you were pretty sure he was. He was simply admiring you. It made you feel slightly weird.

“Are you not gonna take your pants off?” you asked. He laughed at your comment, shaking his head out of his focused state. Then, he got up and did just that. His boner was prominent and looked almost painful. He made a move towards the bed, almost as if he was going to climb on top of you. Then, he stopped in his tracks.

“Wait-” you began. Use protection, kids.

“Condom, I know,” he said, digging through his dressing table. When he finally scrambled onto the bed, he seemed to have lost all patience. Your hands went around his neck while he pumped his shaft a few times, squinting his eyebrows at the built up tension.

“Ready?” he asked you. You nodded before he had even finished the word. He entered you slowly, but wasted no time in picking up pace. At first, you whimpered at how he filled you up and how sensitive you were. Then, you got lost in the way he bit his lip and how his jaw flexed under his skin. His moans sounded like music to your ears. He was holding himself up on his arms while your legs bent a little, making him slam into you at a perfect angle. You cried out when he almost pulled out fully, only to thrust back into you until his hips met yours, his skin hot against yours. Your hands were playing with his soft hair by the nape of his neck, while he lowered his head a little. He wasn’t kissing you, but your lips were touching slightly, your unsteady breaths becoming one. He repeated your name a few times, as if praising you. His arms flexed under his weight, his veins standing out.

His member brushed over your sweet spot over and over, making you clench around him. He grunted at the sensation, only leading you to do it again. You loved seeing the way he shut his eyes tightly, concentrating on the pleasure. His thrusts were quick, but seemed less controlled than in the beginning, meaning he must have been close. Curses left his mouth, while you moaned softly. His motion became even quicker as he buried his head in the crook of your neck, lips hovering over your skin. His name slipped past your lips when he messily kissed you there, not slowing down his thrusts. When you clenched your walls around him again, he was sent over the edge.

He groaned, his arms giving out and he fell onto his forearms, basically laying on top of you now. His skin was hot and his breaths uncontrolled, face still in your neck. When he looked up at you he looked thoroughly content. You grinned tiredly. He pulled out carefully, making you whimper. For a few seconds you stayed that way, catching your breaths. It was quiet in the room, and you felt energetic and at the same time completely exhausted. Of course he was the first to speak.

“Don’t you wanna hear my pick-up line from earlier?” he asked. You almost smacked him. Then, you laughed.

“Okay, tell me,” you said, leaving him surprised. He was going to tell you anyway.

“People call me H/N, but you can call me tomorrow.”

“There is a power in force, perhaps,” they said, idly. “If you’re capable of it. But there is no submission, no surrender. That’s what you want from me.”

“Not at the expense of my will,” came the reply. “I’d rather you do as I command by force than not at all. There is always more power in that. You cannot trick me into concession.”

The protagonist smiled and weighed the words, their scales. Power and powerlessness - forever flipping the same coin, its face worn down grubby over the years between their fingers.

“And if my will is to surrender, is that power to you, or power to me that you would cater so sweetly to my whims?”

The human stared at them, confused.

The poor, dear thing.

The protagonist decided. “Force me to your will then, command me. I’m curious if you can.”

“Of course I can.” The human sounded uncertain, for the first time, now.

The protagonist sighed and rose. Tall, then taller still, slipping their skin like an evening dress at the end of the night. “I’ll show you how, just to get you started.”

The human turned and fled. Of course he did.

anonymous asked:

#OnlyInGotham is the Starbucks you work at held up by Two-Face, and you're the one pulled in at gunpoint as hostage. This would have been normal, but as he gave the standard "I flip the coin, if it lands on bad heads the girl dies, but if it lands on good heads..." my coworker shouted "KISS HER!" as a joke. It landed on good heads, and the video went viral #NotMyBoyfriend #ButNotABadKisser

Next up in our album track by track is Dark Side of Your Room. A lot of time went into writing songs that would feel anthemic live. We knew the energy of this song would carry a good story, which became a reflection of heartbreak and lost causes. This song really leant itself to that notion, an anthem for the used and bruised, the other side of the coin that Drugs and Candy flipped. Every story here is a piece of my past, and this one is about being the butt of the joke in a time and a place I wasn’t ready for. Sometimes we chase people down roads we know we shouldn’t go down and wind up lost. For me, the lyric, “You made a fool of my heart,” is the most prominent in this song. It’s a reflection of genuine naivety, when a leap of faith becomes a hard fall. Get Last Young Renegade at smarturl.it/atllyr and check back tomorrow for the next part of the track by track.

center of the labyrinth 

[loki laufeyson x reader]

author’s note: got an idea that seemed to fit loki the best. hope you guys like it. also i’ll be writing a part 2 to that kylo ren story, but when i get home, since i need a lot of focus for that one lol

word count: 2,194

Keep reading

Parents make mistakes because they are human. Acknowledging this doesn’t mean someone disrespects their own or anyone’s parents or that they don’t love their parents.

Criticism isn’t the opposite of love, it needs to be a part of it. Being able to criticize how your parents behave is nothing but your parents acknowledging your feelings and thoughts as worth considering instead of seeing them as a threat to their authority.

Damn. If someone weren’t allowed to criticize their partner, most people would flip and tell said person to break up. And of course, parents aren’t exactly the same as lovers, but please explain how it’s healthy that we as a society decided that it’s okay for parents to criticize their children all they like while children aren’t allowed to say a word?

Hell, because of this toxic culture around criticizing parents, I met so many people who were so fucking offended by the simple statement “nobody has the perfect parents” because it’s a threat to them. They see their love and adoration towards their parents as threatened instead of seeing that this is not what criticizing parents is about.

Being able to acknowledge your own parents mistakes is an act of self-respect and love.
It means to also acknowledge that the negative feelings your parents caused you have a right to exist which doesn’t have the consequence of “not loving your parents anymore”. Negative feelings are a natural part of any relationship and they exist anyway, whether you acknowledge them or not.

It means that you know that nobody’s perfect and that nobody has to be in order to be loved by others. Making mistakes is just a natural part of being human and acknowledging those mistakes isn’t something bad, just as having mistakes isn’t.

And honestly… Parents who think it’s okay to flip when their children criticize them are implying that their position above their children is more important to them than accepting their perspective as valid and worth listening to. They are actually admitting that their own feelings are more important to them (which is fucking easy considering that no one would even stop them because nobody considers this side of the coin) than their child’s.

TL;DR:
Our society condemning criticism by children directed at their parents is one of the mayor reasons for emotional abuse and we need to stop the toxic believe that criticising someone equals disrespect and that disrespect equals dislike and thus criticising your own parents makes you “The Worst™”.

you’ve heard of RFA & Minor Trio proposing to MC, now get ready for: MC proposing to all these dorks ^^ hope you’re doing well btw

✿ sasjh ahh thank you for your ko-fi support, you’re all so generous. ♥ I tried a bit of a different format for this, please tell me if you like it!


You propose to Yoosung in possibly the most stereotypical way imaginable – by trying to spell it out on the high score field of your favorite arcade game.

Unfortunately, you and Yoosung share the same favorite arcade game (Honey Buddha Racers) and Yoosung is dense as a brick, so when you get the highest score on the game and input ‘Yoosung’ on the line, he finds it later, laughs at you and, thinking it’s some sort of joke, proceeds to beat your score and input your name on the top line. You beat him back, putting his name first again and thinking you should ban him from the game parlor until you’re freaking finished, but you don’t want to arouse his suspicion just yet.

The next day, you manage to get just under your high-score and input Will, but you have some trouble getting the other words to align right (including being undermined by some jerk who apparently was obsessed with getting onto the leaderboards) so you can only get two parts of your message before your prescribed playing time for the day is over.

The third time you try, you dedicate your entire Saturday afternoon to setting up your proposal, and approximately fifteen minutes before you’re supposed to meet Yoosung for dinner, you finish. Pleased, you go out to a restaurant with him, and then casually say you should check out the arcade afterwards.

He agrees. You both go in and, immediately he suggests a round of Honey Buddha Racers. You bring him to the machine, and on the screen, is…

YOOSUNG

WILL

YOU

KEVIN

ME?

“What?” Yoosung asks, squinting at the screen, and you clench your fists, seething and cursing to yourself. You were gone for like, an hour tops, and someone had ruined your proposal by beating one of your scores?

KEVIN WOULD PAY FOR THIS.

You get on one knee and propose anyway, because SCREW KEVIN, you were not letting him ruin your STUPID PROPOSAL.

(Despite the hiccups, Yoosung has stars in his eyes as he accepts.)


You propose to Zen with a smile, a rose clenched between your teeth and glittery flower petals strewn on the bed around you.

You’d gotten the idea from one of his musicals, specifically the one where Zen played a womanizing cat-boy who proposed to the female lead in the third act while wearing a diamond-encrusted speedo. Not to be outdone by your (soon-to-be) fiancée, you consume as many romantic movies, tv shows, and songs as possible in an attempt to melt down their contents and create the ur-proposal that would dominate all proposals for decades to come. They’d teach classes on your romantic ability, studying your silver tongue and your amorous passion! Stand aside, Cassanova! It was time for you to dominate history!

…Which is why you had a camera set up to record the entire thing.

Zen walks in to see you, in an exactingly pressed tuxedo, lying with one hand propping up your head and the other holding out a ring box. After a moment, you get up, and you do not climb off the bed, no – you billow. You sweep. You do a number of grand, romantic movements before you end up in front of him, on one knee, presenting him a diamond.

You whip the rose out of your mouth. You present it to him. He takes it, avoiding the spot that’s kind of shiny from your spit, and you recite a sonnet that you wrote and practiced extensively in the mirror specifically for him. You expected a lot of things – for him to swoon, for his knees to tremble, for him to grab your hands and say Yes, yes! Absolutely, yes! Let’s get married tomorrow!

Zen only does one of those things, instead bursting out laughing, putting his face in his hands… and saying that he loves you so much and that he will, without a doubt, promise to spend the rest of his life with you.


You propose to Jaehee with a cake.

Honestly, your planning could have been better. It was nothing to do with the cake itself! It was perfect! Handmade icing topping a perfectly moist chocolate body, gorgeous floral decorations, and a fondant that didn’t actually taste like shit with the words will you marry me? in a perfect, calligraphy-esque script on the top. It was her favorite color, favorite flavor, and your presentation was spot on, delivering it to her at the end of her shift along with a cup of coffee and a kiss on her cheek. No, your mistake was much smaller, much simpler than that.

After Jaehee squeals, hugs you, and says yesyesyes! About a million and one times, she asks you, like – not to be weird, but – where’s the ring?

And you look at the cake.

And you sweat, because you thought it would be cute to bake the goddamn diamond inside.

“Uh,” you say, and Jaehee facepalms and laughs.

You eat the entire cake during an all-day Zen musical binge, while making sure to take small, careful bites as you look for the ring.


[the rest are beneath the read-more!]

Keep reading