he's actually not perfect at all but you know what i mean; right

Why I Think Momo is Kickass and You should too

So with the emergence of the anime becoming more and more popular, of course the fan base is growing and growing, I would even say to heights like seen in Fairy Tail, Naruto, etc.

 However, with the series getting more popular, you are stuck with more….negative opinions about the characters that in my mind are sometimes just not necessary.

 Now, this blog is normally Ochako and Kacchako and I intend to mostly keep it that way but lately, I’ve been seeing a lot of negative posts towards Momo and frankly, I’m heavily displeased by this, especially since she’s one of the most well portrayed girls in the series and it’s really heartbreaking on my end to see posts that essentially dismiss her for more shallow reasons that don’t need to be here.

 I mean to start this off, are we going to simply forget that she came into UA on a recommendation and was a student that made even All Might shook when asked why Iida was the winner of the exercise

or how, even though the class didn’t know her, she was still voted to be Assistant Class President? 

 or how she was able to act calm and rational during the USJ villain fight?

 or how she still managed to get the top grade in the midterm exams and didn’t get it to her head but actually acted BENEVOTELY and helped her classmates who asked her for help?

or how it was HER plan that got Todoroki and her to win the exam that they were fighting in?

 But ya know, because of her BODY, we’re going to ignore that right? We’re going to ignore how amazing and how smart she is simply because of her body.  

I won’t lie guys, I’ve heard people complaining about her quirk and even saying how bad her quirk is designed when it’s like??? It actually makes a lot of sense why it’s like that since she does create large objects like shields, spears, A FREAKING CANON, like it makes sense for her to need to use fat call throughout her body to be able to achieve that look.

Which brings me to talk about her costume. Oh boy, this is the one that when I first entered the fandom, no one really said anything but now that the series is more popular, everyone has become experts on body proportions and quirk designs and apparently fashion design since her costume isn’t good enough for her.

I mean look at the costume design that Horikoshi put in for her and how he planned that all out for her

At some point, yes I understand, Horikoshi is a pervert, sometimes his intentions aren’t the best, I get that. But consider this, even though he had the ability to make Ochako’s and Tsuyu’s costumes completely perverted, he chose against that. He had the perfect opportunity to indulge in that yet he didn’t. What I love about Horikoshi is that he thinks about the practicality of the quirks and designs the costumes based on that as well taking into consideration the character’s personality and what they would want.

 So guys, at some point, reality check moment: Momo is comfortable with her body enough to wear a costume that she deemed necessary for the usage of her quirk. And she chose that design for that outfit and has not said a word about this entire series. She even had an opportunity to create it to be more closed and she chose not to. MOMO CHOSE HER OUTFIT AND VIEWS IT GOOD ENOUGH FOR HER HERO WORK.

 In this moment too, I would like to share what even Midnight said during Episode 34 at the very beginning.

So another reality check: The only people who are saying it’s sexual are the people who are sexualizing her to begin with. Instead of viewing it as more of a practical thing that is designed for her quirk (which involves utilizing her fat cells and creating stuff through her skin), people begin to view as sexual and are condemning her for having a revealing costume. Which, to me personally, I find ironic since tumblr is filled with campaigns of free the nipple and the stopping of sexualization of breasts and female anatomy, yet look what’s happening here. People are taking her costume and saying she’s being sexualized for choosing a design that would give her optimal openness to use her quirk.

 I mean look at how she used it in the Aizawa fight

 Having that navel cavity helped her out immensely during this fight and she was able to create the alloy material in a much faster way with having access to areas where most of her fat is stored.

Which, I also heard people commenting on how Momo’s body doesn’t make sense and how skinny she is in comparison to her boobs (which I’ve seen that in real life, it’s not uncommon), but if you see in this spread

She actually isn’t the skinniest person in the world. Keep in mind that while she does use her fat cells to make stuff, she does also consume A LOT OF FOOD TOO to keep up with the level of activity too so she does get chubby sometimes so it’s a wrong assumption to think she has this INCRDIBLY PERFECT BODY WITH NO FAT when she does! Which only makes it only more natural and real!

Honestly, her entire arc in the beginning of the manga (or at least up into this exam point) has been so powerful, so realistic, and so amazingly well done.

I mean to consider, very similarly to Bakugou, while we haven’t gotten much of her backstory, given how she behaved in Season 1, we can have a somewhat assumption that she came from a great home and was well praised for her quirk. Obviously, her quirk isn’t one with a talent, she had to work immensely for it, but she must have been placed into situations where she was elevated and praised for how powerful her quirk is (like she was put in situations where she was able to be able to use her quirk to the fullest and not have much backfired).

Even Aizawa says this during their fight

Which does imply this isn’t a constant state she’s always been in, it’s one that has been gained since the sports festival (hence why the arguments that she should be shouldn’t be self confident are wrong). 

Yet, with coming to UA and being in a hero course, after participating in the festival, well she starts to crumble and kind of doubt her abilities against the others

 Like it starts off with her not getting a high ranking on the race

 Then she mentioned the issue with the cavalry battle later on but definitely the heavy hitter for Momo was her fight with Tokoyami where she was left in shambles since she wasn’t able to make much on an impact on the fight itself (which this was amplified more in the anime than the manga itself).

Originally posted by fadingsoulss

Thus really bringing down her confidence. And now a lot of people screamed about how misogynist her hero training was and how demeaning it was which leads to 2 issues that some people forget about.

 1.     That there are multiple sides to being a hero. It’s not always the cookie cutter “fight villains, rescue people, rinse and repeat”. Even famous people in our society, even though their job is to act/sing/etc, they still go out and do publicity work and that’s what they do. It’s a part of being well known and using your abilities outside of the field you are in.

2.     This was all part of Momo developing. This was just another way to bring Momo down a couple more notches. It’s a bit cruel and hard but this was a way for Horikoshi to get her  out of her mindset and be exposed to something where her confidence could be lowered. Guaranteed if she was put into an actual hero training internship, she wouldn’t have been lowered as much as she did.

 Which could lead the argument that it wasn’t necessary to have any of that stuff happen to her but consider, would she have gotten in this state if she didn’t have those things happen and accumulate?

And would she have gotten her confidence back from Todoroki/Aizawa and execute an amazing plan without that encouragement from those moments?

Probably not.

 Ok this post is beginning to get way to long so I’m going to stop here before I go on and on and on about Momo. As much as Ochako is my best girl and I will forever sacrifice myself to her, even I have to admit Momo is utterly amazing and I only talked about what happened in the first 65 chapters. I didn’t even brush on how amazing she was during the invasion of the villains or how she managed to be a huge help in the rescue of Bakugou or even how kickass she was during the license exam (which she helped my princess Ochako and that pleased me so much). Momo is just more than the simple sexual object people are complaining her to be as, she’s an incredibly smart and amazing woman and Horikoshi put so much thought into her, more than what any of us could ever imagine. I am truly excited to see more of what she can do in the future and I hope she gains more fans since she truly deserves it.

 TLDR; MOMO IS AMAZING, SEND HER LOVE YALL

The Dos and Don’ts of Beginning a Novel:  An Illustrated Guide

I’ve had a lot of asks lately for how to begin a book (or how not to), so here’s a post on my general rules of thumb for story openers and first chapters!  

Please note, these are incredibly broad generalizations;  if you think an opener is right for you, and your beta readers like it, there’s a good chance it’s A-OK.  When it comes to writing, one size does not fit all.  (Also note that this is for serious writers who are interested in improving their craft and/or professional publication, so kindly refrain from the obligatory handful of comments saying “umm, screw this, write however you want!!”)

So without further ado, let’s jump into it!

Don’t: 

1.  Open with a dream. 

“Just when Mary Sue was sure she’d disappear down the gullet of the monstrous, winged pig, she woke up bathed in sweat in her own bedroom.”

What?  So that entire winged pig confrontation took place in a dream and amounts to nothing?  I feel so cheated! 

Okay, not too many people open their novels with monstrous swine, but you get the idea:  false openings of any kind tend to make the reader feel as though you’ve wasted their time, and don’t usually jump into more meaty action of the story quickly enough.  It makes your opening feel lethargic and can leave your audience yawning.

Speaking of… 

2.  Open with a character waking up.  

This feels familiar to most of us, but unless your character is waking up to a zombie attack or an alien invasion, it’s generally a pretty easy recipe to get your story to drag.

No one picks a book to hear how your character brushes their teeth in the morning or what they’d like to have for dinner.  As a general rule of thumb, we read to explore things we wouldn’t otherwise get to experience.  And cussing out the alarm clock is not one of them.  

Granted, there are exceptions if your writing is exceptionally engaging, but in most cases it just sets a slow pace that will bore you and your reader to death and probably cause you to lose interest in your book within the first ten pages.  

3.  Bombard with exposition.  

Literary characters aren’t DeviantArt OCs.  And the best way to convey a character is not, in my experience, to devote the first ten pages to describing their physical appearance, personality, and backstory.  Develop your characters, and make sure their fully fleshed out – my tips on how to do so here – but you don’t need to dump all that on the reader before they have any reason to care about them.  Let the reader get to know the character gradually, learn about them, and fall in love with them as they would a person:  a little bit at a time.   

This is iffy when world building is involved, but even then it works best when the delivery feels organic and in tune with the book’s overall tone.  Think the opening of the Hobbit or Good Omens.

4.  Take yourself too seriously.

Your opener (and your novel in general) doesn’t need to be intellectually pretentious, nor is intellectual pretense the hallmark of good literature.  Good literature is, generally speaking, engaging, well-written, and enjoyable.  That’s it.  

So don’t concern yourself with creating a poetic masterpiece of an opening line/first chapter.  Just make one that’s – you guessed it – engaging, well-written, and enjoyable. 

5.  Be unintentionally hilarious.

Utilizing humor in your opening line is awesome, but check yourself to make sure your readers aren’t laughing for all the wrong reasons (this is another reason why betas are important.)  

These examples of the worst opening lines in published literature will show you what I mean – and possibly serve as a pleasant confidence booster as well: 

“As the dark and mysterious stranger approached, Angela bit her lip anxiously, hoping with every nerve, cell, and fiber of her being that this would be the one man who would understand – who would take her away from all this – and who would not just squeeze her boob and make a loud honking noise, as all the others had.”

– Ali Kawashima

“She sipped her latte gracefully, unaware of the milk foam droplets building on her mustache, which was not the peachy-fine baby fuzz that Nordic girls might have, but a really dense, dark, hirsute lip-lining row of fur common to southern Mediterranean ladies nearing menopause, and winked at the obviously charmed Spaniard at the next table.”

– Jeanne Villa

“As I gardened, gazing towards the autumnal sky, I longed to run my finger through the trail of mucus left by a single speckled slug – innocuously thrusting past my rhododendrons – and in feeling that warm slime, be swept back to planet Alderon, back into the tentacles of the alien who loved me.”

– Mary E. Patrick

“Before they met, his heart was a frozen block of ice, scarred by the skate blades of broken relationships, then she came along and like a beautiful Zamboni flooded his heart with warmth, scraped away the ugly slushy bits, and dumped them in the empty parking lot of his soul.”

– Howie McClennon

If these can get published, so can you.

Do:

1.  You know that one really interesting scene you’re itching to write?  Start with that.

Momentum is an important thing in storytelling.  If you set a fast, infectious beat, you and your reader will be itching to dance along with it.  

Similarly, slow, drowsy openers tend to lead to slow, drowsy stories that will put you both to sleep.

I see a lot of posts joking about “that awkward moment when you sit down to write but don’t know how to get to that one scene you actually wanted to write about.”  Write that scene!  If it’s at all possible, start off with it.  If not, there are still ways you can build your story around the scenes you actually want to write.

Keep in mind:  if you’re bored, your reader will almost certainly be bored as well.  So write what you want to write.  Write what makes you excited.  Don’t hold off until later, when it “really gets good.”  Odds are, the reader will not wait around that long, and you’re way more likely to become disillusioned with your story and quit.  If a scene is dragging, cut it out.  Burn bridges, find a way around.  Live, dammit. 

2.  Engage the reader.

There are several ways to go about this.  You can use wit and levity, you can present a question, and you can immerse the reader into the world you’ve created.  Just remember to do so with subtlety, and don’t try too hard;  believe me, it shows.  

Here are some of my personal favorite examples of engaging opening lines: 

“In the beginning, the universe was created. This has made a lot of people very angry and been widely regarded as a bad move." 

– Douglas Adams, the Restaurant at the End of the Universe.

"It was the day my grandmother exploded.”

– Iain Banks, Crow Road.

“A white Pomeranian named Fluffy flew out of the a fifth-floor window in Panna, which was a grand-new building with the painter’s scaffolding still around it. Fluffy screamed.”

– Vikram Chandra, Sacred Games.

See what I’m saying?  They pull you in and do not let go.

3.  Introduce us to a main character (but do it right.)

“Shadow had done three years in prison. He was big enough and looked don’t-fuck-with-me enough that his biggest problem was killing time. So he kept himself in shape, and taught himself coin tricks, and thought a lot about how much he loved his wife.”

– Neil Gaiman, American Gods.

This is one of my favorite literary openings of all time, because right off the bat we know almost everything we need to know about Shadow’s character (i.e. that he’s rugged, pragmatic, and loving.)   

Also note that it doesn’t tell us everything about Shadow:  it presents questions that make us want to read more.  How did Shadow get into prison?  When will he get out?  Will he reunite with his wife?  There’s also more details about Shadow slowly sprinkled in throughout the book, about his past, personality, and physical appearance.  This makes him feel more real and rounded as a character, and doesn’t pull the reader out of the story.

Obviously, I’m not saying you should rip off American Gods.  You don’t even need to include a hooker eating a guy with her cooch if you don’t want to.  

But this, and other successful openers, will give you just enough information about the main character to get the story started;  rarely any good comes from infodumping, and allowing your reader to get to know your character gradually will make them feel more real.   

4.  Learn from the greats.

My list of my favorite opening lines (and why I love them) is right here.

5.  Keep moving.  

The toughest part of being a writer is that it’s a rare and glorious occasion when you’re actually satisfied with something you write.  And to add another layer of complication, what you like best probably won’t be what your readers will like best. 

If you refuse to keep moving until you have the perfect first chapter, you will never write anything beyond your first chapter.  

Set a plan, and stick to it:  having a daily/weekly word or page goal can be extremely helpful, especially when you’re starting out.  Plotting is a lifesaver (some of my favorite posts on how to do so here, here, and here.)

Keep writing, keep moving, and rewrite later.  If you stay in one place for too long, you’ll never keep going. 

Best of luck, and happy writing.  <3

... And Action! (Bill Skarsgard X Reader)

anonymous requested: Oi ! i really like ur writings and was wondering if you do bill skarsgard/pennywise stuff ? if you do can you write a oneshot where Y/N plays the older sister (like shes in her twenties or smth) of beverly and pennywise kills her ? but Bill Skarsgard (he plays Pennywise) has a thing for Y/N and really hopes to impress her but it kinda goes wrong in someway ? idek but it’s been a idea i’ve had for ages ! thankss !  

Warnings: Spoilers -? Maybe? IT is a horror movie so, murder and choking. Also brief brief brief topics of vomit.

Word Count: 1880

A/N: I’m fully aware this is one shot is a bit bizarre and definitely a specific niche (not one that I share necessarily) but I feel like I need to preface this by saying this is simply just for fun. PSA Bev Marsh doesn’t have an older sister Y/N’s role is purely for this work

Originally posted by romanandme

Ever since Y/N got the call telling her she, Y/N L/N, was to play the part of Laura Marsh, her stomach still hasn’t unfolded itself. It was still all balled up in the pit of her lower abdomen, like she could hurl at any time. It had been there through the three months of filming they had done and she concluded that it would probably never leave.

Her character didn’t play much of a part in the loser’s club, but Y/N’s character was given her own story in the film. She was Laura Marsh, the real town ‘slut’  even though she often used her little sister Bev as a scapegoat. She hung out with Patrick Hocksetter and Henry Bower, and was usually one of Bev and the loser’s tormentors. Laura was a bitch by all standards of convention, even Y/N could admit, which was her death scene was supposed to be simultaneously terrifying and reliving.  

Y/N watched as the loser’s from her black chair as they played hand games and laughed together on the pavement. The blacktop was so hot! She thought, how the hell did they stand it? Y/N technically had only stopped being a kid three years ago (she was 21 now) but she still could never remember a time where she was so uncaring.

“Do ya’ know when they’re gonna start already? Jesus lets just get on with the scene already!” The slightly squeaky voice of Nicholas Hamilton (Henry Bowers) abruptly asked beside her. Three months ago she would’ve jumped, but now she didn’t even think about it. She heard a chair scraping against the ground and it groaned with the weight of Nick’s body. She turned and smiled at him, placing her thick and annotated script onto her lap. He was wearing an orange wife beater tanktop and Y/N could see redness on his shoulders beginning to form.

“Whoa I die in this scene! You want me gone that much, huh?” Y/N asked, feigning hurt as she chuckled lightly. It was the most unfortunate death for poor Laura Marsh, first she was kissed and then left by her boyfriend (which just so happened to be Henry Bowers) in the sewers of all places, then she was brutally ripped apart by a clown wearing his face. Y/N knew that the younger actor was anxious for his first on-screen make out (he had told her so time and time again) but she hoped the playful conversation would calm his nerves.  

Y/N was nervous too but for a different reason entirely. She was an experience actress, she had crossed all the necessary rights of passage, yet she was so nervous. Y/N had talked to Bill Skarsgard twice and she couldn’t shake her stupid, girlish crush. She hardly knew the guy for fuck’s sake! She had wanted so much to come from this movie, It was her first big production movie, but now she was most certainly gonna screw up. How the hell could she pretend to be terrified of the guy when she was secretly thinking ‘I want you to rub my mouth on your mouth’?

“No! No!” Nick assured, rubbing the back of his neck awkwardly. “It’s not the death I’m looking forward to,” he whispered under his breath not so subtly. A few moments of hot silence followed before he reached over and grabbed the script from Y/N’s lap. He lazily fanned himself with it boyishly.

“You’ve got another coupla scenes after this so it’s not like you’re not going anywhere!” He joked as he tried in vain to cool himself off. His voice was shaking slightly and his laughs were constrained, like he wasn’t breathing in enough. Y/N cocked her eyebrow and waited for a few seconds before she made a lunge for her script. She, of course, missed it and hit her elbow on the wooden arm rest of his chair.

“C’mon why do you carry this thing anyhow? Everyone knows you memorized this thing cover to cover the instant you got it.” Nick teased stretching his arm away from Y/N as he peered at all of her highlights and somewhat embarrassing notes.

Y/N tried to crack a smile, but it was true, she did take it everywhere. How could she not? How else could she ensure she’d pull through? Besides was it so wrong for her to make sure everything went perfectly?

Nevertheless, she was beginning to suspect that Nick knew something that he shouldn’t, that sneaky little son of a bitch. She was about to reply with a typical snarky remark but she was interrupted by Andy (the director) shouting, “Y/N, Nick, and Bill - Scene 6 please!” Her heart sank as her body began to move without her brain’s consent. Nick had already jumped up and ran over to Andy enthusiastically. Meanwhile, Y/N’s thighs peeled up from her chair and she awkwardly waddled over to join them.

Andy took one glance at her before waving a makeup artist down and whispering in her ear. How ironic that this makeup artist looked like a scary clown herself, what with all that highlighter. The girl took a dry rag and began to dab Y/N’s face a bit, before she was pulled onto set by someone’s face she didn’t even get to see.

Nick grabbed Y/N’s hand and lightly guided her into position, awaiting Andy to shout “Action!” Y/N could still see the kids offscreen playing their hand games, but now one of them had begun throwing little balls of mud.  

“Alright! Is everyone in position?!” Andy asked looking around as if he were waiting for someone to point out a problem. He nodding to the man holding the slate, before loudly shouting “AND ACTION!”

Nick immediately pushed Y/N’s hips up against the walls of the sewers and she giggled obnoxiously. His lips roughly greeted hers in a strained, but very teenager, kiss. The kiss lasted only for a couple of seconds before he pulled away and wiped his mouth, following the script to a tee.

“You’re getting better.” He commented rudely and went back to give her another kiss. But Y/N’s character, Laura pushed his chest back, “What the fuck is that supposed to mean, Henry?” Y/N made sure to smack her lips together, to cock her head, and roll her eyes.

“It means that I thought sluts like you were supposedta’ be good at kissin’. But I guess sluts aren’t really known for their kissin’ anyways.” Again, Nick went in for a kiss, but Y/N pushed him back and feigned disbelief.  

Only open your mouth slightly, stop cocking your head, frown, stare, make your eyes water Y/N went through exactly what she had to do in the mirror time and time again, perfecting every part of her express- Crap, lower your chin and …. cry!

Nick glanced at her, though by now her character was balling. “You’re a fucking crazy bitch. You know that right? How much do you charge again?” He asked so sourly the words curdled in his mouth.

“Just get the fuck outta here!” Y/N yelled and she could see, out of her peripheral vision, Andy mouthing along to the words. Nick smirked evilly, before exiting the set and giving her an encouraging off screen thumbs up. Y/N slumped down and cried pathetically, just as it was written. But eventually she stood and stumbled around in the sewers, crying all the way. She could feel the presence of the camera over her shoulder as it followed her like a ghost. Abruptly, the sound of demonic laughter reverberated around the metal of the sewer hitting Y/N’s ears. Bill was too good at that. It made the hair on the back of her neck stand. Her character stopped walking and wiped her nose with the back of her cranberry colored sweatshirt.

A floating red balloon bobbed through the air as it came softly down to where Y/N was standing. It bobbed so peacefully (like the script had said), so her character tried to reach out to get it like a  young child. Perhaps poor slut Laura Marsh needed comfort too, Y/N pondered.

“AND PENNYWISE GO!” Andy shouted, marking where CGI would be used to create a horrifying, deformed hell version of Bill’s beautiful face. Y/N jumped and let out a throaty, raspy scream, the same scream she was hired for. She felt cold hands on her sweatshirt before she saw Bill, but once she did she couldn’t help to scream again. It was nightmarish, with his enlarged forehead and pointed smile.

The clown pinned Y/N up against the wall, which would’ve actually choked her if it had not been for the slight incline that let her tiptoes hang on. She gasped and sputtered, still crying and struggling pathetically. “HO HO HEHEHE!” The clown laughed in her ear and the sound shocked her so much that Y/N lost her footing, her toes couldn’t get a grip on the wet floor of the sewer. Bill was already so much taller than her at 6’4” that in order to deliver the lines properly, he had begun brought her up to his face. She gripped tightly onto his gloved hands as she coughed and began to feel a bit light headed as he continued to laugh maniacally.

Just kill me already! Y/N painfully thought, she would hate to be the reason for the failed take. But Pennywise, or Bill, never seemed to talk fast enough and Y/N was really beginning to feel the effects as she tried desperately to gulp in air.

“I - I,” Wheeze. “C-c-can’t-t,” Wheeze.  

Immediately like a switch had been pulled, she felt the pressure on her throat release as she fell to the ground into the disgusting water. She gulped in sweet air like she had never breathed before and Andy, god bless him, finally shouted “Cut!”

“Y/N! Are you alright!? I really didn’t mean to! I mean I thought maybe - but - I’m so sorry!” Pennywi- Bill shouted, helping her up by placing his hand on the small of her back. It was so odd hearing him be so gentle and polite while wearing such a terrifying costume. His eyes, which five seconds ago where full of such rage, now were softened and sad. “I can’t believe I didn’t notice,” Bill said exasperatedly and guided her over to where Andy sat, all the while she was still breathing in and out deeply.

“Y/N! Y/N! What happened!” Y/N heard the voices of the child actors as they ran over to inspect the situation.

“It was the heat you dufas!” One of the kids proclaimed obviously, as they patted her shoulder. But all Y/N could focus on was the sound of her heart beating as she panted heavily.

“I’m …  fine guys.” Y/N confirmed as she rubbed her neck tenderly. Now that she finally had air in her lungs, the pain of where Bill’s fingers had wrapped around her throat set in.

“I’m so sorry,” Bill repeated as he tried to give her kindest smile he could, buck tooth, blood drenched and everything.

I want you to want me

“Wait, no, let’s take the other corridor.”

“But that will take so much longer!”

“I don’t care. Come on!”

Draco ignored Pansy’s pouting and dragged her along. What were the teachers thinking, hanging up all these mistletoes around the castle? There were so many, it was so hard to avoid them all. Also, it was only November 17th! Couldn’t they at least have waited until December?

Cursing under his breath, Draco turned to the corridor that was still mistletoe-free. Well, at least it had been this morning.

“Oh, come on,” Draco groaned as he suddenly found himself and Pansy standing beneath a gigantic ladder. Filch was on top of it, fumbling with the fateful plant Draco had come to loathe.

Since he was a child, he had been very superstitious. Ignoring the mistletoe wouldn’t do it. It was bad luck. And Pansy knew this very well, judging from her smug expression. She had been taught the same by her parents, but, unlike Draco, she chose to try her luck. At least she usually did.

“Well, go on,” she said, grinning at him. Exhaling loudly, Draco pinched the bridge of his nose.

“This is ridiculous,” he grumbled.

“I’m waiting.” Pansy’s grin only widened when Draco huffed and blew his hair out of his face.

“Alright, alright.” He leaned over to her reluctantly, but panicked, when she suddenly closed her eyes. She couldn’t be serious! Dear Merlin! Hastily, he planted his lips on her left cheek and immediately started walking again. There! Surely that would count!

“Hey! Draco,” he heard Pansy call after him. Nope, he would keep walking! He would keep walking and avoid these bloody mistletoes this time! Getting back to the Slytherin common room couldn’t be that impossible!

“… no, I remember you specifically told me- Ouch!”

“Hey, watch where you’re going!” Rubbing his nose, Draco glowered at the person he had just collided with. The Weasel. With Granger in tow. Magnificent!

You bumped into me,” Weasley said in an accusing tone.

“Whatever, Weasel! Now get out of my-”

“Oh, mistletoe,” Granger interrupted him, pointing at the ceiling.

You’ve got to be kidding me!

Draco looked up, then back at the other two standing in front of him. Oh, damn it!

“Come on, let’s just go,” Granger said, taking Weasley’s hand.

“We can’t,” he whispered. “We have to kiss.” Granger rolled her eyes at him, but Weasley’s face turned serious. “No, we really have to kiss. It’s bad luck if we don’t.”

Huh. Weasley wasn’t as dumb as he looked after all. With an exasperated sigh, Granger pulled him down and kissed him for much longer than was necessary. When Draco cleared his throat, they finally stopped.

“What, you want one, too?” Weasley asked, arching his eyebrows.

“Well, I was standing under the damn thing, too, wasn’t I?”

Understanding hit Weasley’s face and Draco would have loved to take a step forward and slap him. His dumb face was just so infuriating. Before Draco could do anything, however, Granger shoved her boyfriend and he stumbled forward.

“Hey, what are you doing?” Weasley asked, turning his head.

“Well, obviously, you two are the ones with the superstitions. And I already kissed you, so you can go and kiss him.” The way she said it was so nonchalant, it made Draco gape at ther. Okay, so he definitely didn’t want to kiss her. But did she understand how revolting it would be to kiss the Weasel? Well, of course not. She did it willingly. On a regular basis. Yuck!

When Weasley turned back around to Draco, his face was so pale, Draco thought he might faint.

“Ugh, let’s just get this over with,” Draco murmured.

“No, please, Hermione, no, please don’t make me do this!”

“I’m not making you do anything! You were the one who said you have to kiss under the mistletoe.”

“She’s right,” Draco said through gritted teeth. He closed the gap between them and wrinkled his nose. “Just… hold still.” Draco placed both his hands on Weasley’s shoulders and tried to ignore the way his bottom lip was quivering. His lips looked very chapped.This was going to be worse than he had thought!

If he hadn’t already cheated when he had kissed Pansy on the cheek, Draco would have done the same with Weasley. But he couldn’t cheat fate twice in one day! Ugh!

Just a quick peck. Light. Very light. Lips barely touching. Yeah, that wouldn’t be so bad, right? Ugh, if only it weren’t Weasley!

“Merlin, Malfoy, just do it already,” Weasley groaned. Clicking his tongue once, Draco stood up on his toes and gave Weasley the quickest kiss in history of all kisses.

“Ugh! Now excuse me, I need to go wash my mouth,” Draco declared and started hurrying off.

“Ron. Ron? Are you okay? Are you crying? Oh, you’re gagging. Come on, stop it!” Granger’s voice slowly died down behind him as Draco ran down the stairs to the Dungeons. No, wait, he couldn’t walk down that corridor. There were at least three bunches of mistletoe down there. The one on the left had only one. That he knew of. And he’d have to walk through half the castle again. But one was still better than three. Okay then.

As he walked, Draco kept his eyes to the ceiling. He wouldn’t let himself get into another situation like that. Yuck! Weasley! Disgusting! He’d probably never forget it. November 17th, the day he had kissed Ron Weasley. Why? Why??

He wiped his lips with the back of his hand and began running when he spied the bunch of mistletoe he had been dreading. Luckily, no one else was in the corridor. Heaving a sigh of relief, Draco slowed down when he suddenly heard footsteps approaching.

“Potter!” Draco narrowed his eyes. “Wandering the corridors all alone?”

Why couldn’t it have been Potter? Why couldn’t he have bumped into him under the mistletoe? This really wasn’t fair! Draco was doing everything, but still he had the worst luck! This was just infuriating! And honestly, it was kind of Potter’s fault he’d had to endure kissing Weasley. If Potter had been with his stupid friends, it might have gone very differently.

“Why aren’t you with the rest of your little trio? Tired of being the third wheel?”

Potter blinked.

“I am, actually.”

“Oh.”

This was no fun when Potter was being honest.

“What about you? You look a bit ill. Are you okay?”

Draco tried very hard not to think about his lips touching Weasley’s. This would probably haunt him for a very long time. Instead, he rolled his eyes.

“How sweet. Nice to know the Saviour cares.”

Potter was about to respond, when his gaze fell to the ground.

“What’s that?”

Draco followed Potter’s gaze and almost choked. Was that mistletoe? Growing, actually growing out of the cobblestone while they were standing there? But mistletoe usually grew on trees!

“You can’t be serious,” Draco muttered. This was insane. But… he was with Potter. This would be the perfect opportunity to steal a kiss without having to reveal his feelings for the stupid git. “Ugh, can this day get any worse?” Draco moaned. Yes, yes, act like this is the worst thing that could have happened right now! He watched as Potter slowly examined the plant.

“Is that…”

“Yeah,” Draco said, trying to sound as displeased as possible.

“Oh.”

There was a brief silence, in which they both avoided the other’s eyes.

“Well, since we’re not exactly standing under it… Let’s just ignore it,” Potter babbled. Draco’s heart fell. This was his opportunity! Why was Potter being so difficult?

“We can’t just ignore it. It’s bad luck,” he mumbled. He felt so stupid. Potter was probably seeing right through him. From the corner of his eyes he saw the Gryffindor shuffling his feet, while his eyes were still glued to the ground.

“That’s just some stupid superstition, isn’t it?” Potter said with an arched brow.

“It’s not,” Draco insisted. “People… people have died after ignoring it.” It was utter bollocks. And Potter probably knew it. Draco considered just walking away. Potter was right, they weren’t standing under the mistletoe, so the rules probably didn’t apply here.

“Oh.” Potter paused while Draco suppressed the urge to kick the mistletoe.  “Well, if it’s that serious… we better not risk it.”

Draco’s head snapped up. What? Had Potter just… What?

Keep reading

Don’t Freak

Originally posted by kings-of-my-heart

Steve Harrington x Reader

Requests are OPEN

PART II | PART III | PART IV | PART V

PART I


“You’re really trying to tell me that Low is David Bowie’s best album to date?” Jonathan nodded, opening the brown paper bag that held his lunch.

“That’s exactly what I’m telling you,” Y/N’s eyes widened, then shoved her lunch tray to the side. She leaned on her elbows, her hands in front of her.

“I could name five other Bowie albums, easily, that blow Low out of the water,” Jonathan took a bite of his sandwich, then motioned to Y/N.

“Go on then,”

Station to Station,” Y/N’s right index finger began to point to the fingers on her left hand to count. “Aladdin Sane, The Rise and Fall of Ziggy Stardust and the Spiders From Mars -obviously-, Diamond Dogs, and my number one favorite Bowie album of all time,” Jonathan mimed exactly what Y/N was saying with her, “Hunky Dory.” Y/N took a deep breath as she finished, then shoved a french fry in her mouth. “It’s like I don’t even know you sometimes,” She shook her head and shrugged her shoulders jokingly, “But, I mean, Low is still a great album,” That made Jonathan chuckle. A body suddenly appeared on the bench next to Y/N, scaring the life out of her. She had one hand on her mouth and the other over her heart to stop herself from screaming. Y/N turned her head and saw Steve Harrington with a dumb grin on his face.

“Tonight?” He looked at Y/N expectantly.

“What?” Her pupils were still wide from the shock, and the word sounded pretty dumb coming from her.

Keep reading

MBTI stereotypes vs. How I see them irl

ENFP stereotype: crazy, always yelling, always crying, loud, obsessed with rainbows and unicorns for some reason.

ENFPs irl: being an ENFP myself I’ll say that we are so much more mellow than you’d expect. Some of us are actually kind of quiet and can get confused as introverts. We are excitable people, without a doubt, but we’re picky about who we want to be excitable around.

INFP stereotype: dark, brooding, always sad, poetic, cries a lot, takes everything personally, probably emo

INFPs irl: I won’t deny that INFPs definitely can be like this, but they’re also surprisingly playful & don’t show their emotions as much as you’d expect. Every INFP I’ve met is super witty and they always have the most perfect comedic timing! Seriously, y'all could be comedians. They can sometimes be smartasses and seem like INTPs, even ENTPs on the surface.

ISFP stereotype: hipster, emo, crybaby, manic pixie dream girl, tortured artist

ISFP irl: I won’t deny that the stereotype is pretty accurate. But like INFPs, they don’t show their emotions as often as you’d think. They actually come off as quite aloof and unemotional on the surface. Also; even though they’re sensors, they are very much like intuitives! I dated an ISFP and we used to have the most interesting conversations.

ESFP stereotype: party animal, attention whore, loud, annoying

ESFPs irl: Like the ENFPs, they’re surprisingly laid back. And some can be confused as introverts; they’re very similar to their ISFP “cousins”. Although ESFPs are party animals without a doubt, they have a surprisingly mellow vibe. They’re also a LOT smarter than you’d think.

ENTP stereotype: asshole, always debating, just dicks in general

ENTPs irl: I have a lovely ENTP teacher and my dad is an ENTP as well. Honestly, I think ENTPs are one of the thinking types that can often be confused to be feelers. They’re often VERY friendly and charismatic— sometimes even more so than ENFPs— and you’ll find that they’re surprisingly very emotional when you get to know them. Remember, kids: thinkers have feelings too, they just have a harder time grasping them than feeling types.

ESTJ/ENTJ stereotype: mean, bossy, stoic

EXTJs irl: Both of these types are stereotyped to be very mean & bossy people. They sometimes can come across like that, but often times when they’re being bossy, they’re only trying to help you. A lot of people misinterpret their actions. Yes, some EXTJs abuse their power, but a lot of them are just looking out for people and making sure they do the right thing. They’re also very fun & social if you become friends with them! They’re so much nicer than you’d expect. 

ISTJ stereotype: boring, hates people, stoic

ISTJs irl: They aren’t boring, just very mellow. Every ISTJ I’ve met has a very calm tone of voice. Like EXTJs, they can come off as bossy, but often times they’re only trying to help you. They definitely have a fun, charismatic side to them too.

INTJ stereotype: evil, hates people, antisocial

INTJs irl: Yeah, a lot of INTJs are like this. But they can be really good friends; they can just be quite picky about who they want to spend time with, because they’re often very very introverted. When you do get “chosen” by an INTJ, they’re actually super fun to talk to and be around. They have a soft, sweet side too that they’ll reveal to you if you get close enough. Like ISTJs, they’re often super mellow people.

ISFJ stereotype: pure, soft, will bake you cookies, very emotional

ISFJs irl: Alright. I’ll admit that the ISFJ stereotype is pretty spot on. But they’re also more smart & independent than you’d expect. They’re very caring about others, but will still go out and get what they want no matter what the cost; a confident ISFJ won’t be afraid to cut you out of the picture if you’re hindering their progress! They also give REALLY good advice. That’s typical of an XXFJ type though, tbh.

INFJ stereotype: extremely introverted. dark and brooding. probably psychic.

INFJs irl: I have an INFJ best friend and let me tell you, these types really do come off as extroverted! They can be very charismatic and chatty and are so much less mysterious/cryptic than you’d expect. They’re so fun to be around!! I’ll agree that they’re probably psychic though tbh. A lot of INFJs I’ve met have had weird spiritual experiences & predicted things that I never could have thought of before. They can also be huge party animals if you bring out their wild side!

ENFJ stereotype: typical “hero”, preachy, emotional, manipulative

ENFJs irl: I honestly don’t disagree with this stereotype. ENFJs can be manipulative, but they don’t always have malicious intent. They’re a little similar to EXTJs at times; they seem controlling, but often times they’re just trying to help. ENFJs sometimes get a bad rep, but I think they are super impessive and smart people. And yes, it’s true; they most likely know you better than you know yourself.

ESFJ stereotype: typical basic bitch, loud, charismatic, over emotional

ESFJs irl: I’d say the stereotype is true, but exaggerated. Some ESFJs can be a bit obnoxious, I’ll admit, but they’re usually super wonderful to be around. Their presence is often very fun & refreshing. They may seem smothering at times, but just know that deep in their heart it’s because they want to keep people happy. Every ESFJ I’ve met does their very best to put a smile on everyone’s face; they’re always joking around, giving out compliments, and giving out hugs. They often have good intentions with everything they do and you can just /tell/.

ESTP stereotype: daredevil, asshole, party animal, impulsive

ESTPs irl: They definitely have a tendency to be all of the above. But they’re also super friendly & charismatic, and very caring deep down. They’re also often really really smart, but don’t often show it unless you get them talking about a subject they’re invested in. When they’re not out partying and going wild, they are actually super chill people.

ISTP/INTP stereotype: assholes, nerdy, hates people, critical

IXTPs irl: Actually sweethearts. They often aren’t too great at expressing emotion, but they’re just so nice, they can even sometimes appear nicer than the IXFPs. They care so much for people without even realizing it. I dated an ISTP and he used to do the sweetest romantic gestures ever!! They come off as aloof, cold, and often robotic; but you still get a general sense that they care for the people around them, and they often truly do deep down.

Thor Ragnarok/Loki imagines - I see you

Originally posted by thortunes

AN: I’m really going back to my roots here. Marvel was always what I wrote most and what I started this page with. Thor Ragnarok makes me feel really old as I look back on the many years I’ve been writing fan fiction. Loki is and will always be my main first love. Thor Ragnarok may not have been as serious as previous Thor Movies but I still adored it and Loki stole my heart like he does every time he’s on the screen. I came up with this mid movie and I couldn’t pull my phone out to write the idea down so thank god I remembered it. Also, some of the dialogue between Thor and Loki is not word for word, it’s just what I remember.

I might turn this into a series where I start from the first Thor then lead the story up to Ragnarok. Tell me your thoughts on this. 

Summary: You have always been Loki’s rock and when Hela comes for Asgard, Loki wants to go back for you but won’t admit that. You are see-er and that meant you could see where Loki is at all times, but when you can’t, you start to panic. 

Pairing(s): Loki x reader

Word count: 1,106

Warnings: Spoilers. 

When Heimdall was exiled from the city, you chose to go with him. You had seeing powers much like he did however yours differed in a way that Heimdall found interesting. 

He was your mentor and when Odin banished him, you had to go with him as he was like a father to you. 

However, this meant leaving Loki behind. 

Keep reading

lance headcanons bc i love one (1) boy

are y’all prepared ..,.,,i got a lot going on here i’ve been working on this post for a while StRAP IN MY FRIENDS

  • okay first of all lance has incredible fashion sense, we just don’t get to see it bc !!! at the garrison he had to wear a uniform and he left all his other clothes behind back on earth but his closet is literally full of such cool clothes like he’s the type of guy who can take old thrift store things but arrange them uniquely in an outfit that looks really fUCKIng good and has everyone going O: !…,,he always looks good..,,and the boy does it on a budget bc he is practical!!
  • he has had a LOT of jobs bc he wanted it to look good on his application/money obvs ..,,,some of these include: a grocery store clerk, a waiter, and he even!! worked at a spa once bc…,he knows so many things about self care and has a passion for it!!
  • his first job tho was, you guessed it: the farm. u know, where he learned to milk a cow…,he was finally old enough to get a job and got all excited like heck yeah i’m ADULT and then his mom was like here our family friend (or maybe a relative or something) needs help on his farm this summer u can do that and he’s like wh…..okay
  • like at first he’s wary bc ew farm work?? dirt and sweat and rlly hot all the time?? but also he’s just..he likes to be optimistic abt things too when he can and is like ok u know what i’m gonna take this job and make it into something good and do a great job!! so.,,,at first he’s like what fuck when he learns how to milk a cow but eventually he gets the hang of it and as weird a feeling as it is he rlly likes the cows and all the animals and is v gentle with them ..,,he also cleans the chicken coop often which is gross but he likes the chickens ..,.he names every single one and sings to them sometimes while he’s working or talks to them
  • also he names every chicken after one of his siblings or family members so when he tells story about them at dinner he’ll be like “so yeah (insert sibling name here) finally laid an egg today” “lance are you kid—oh. the chicken” lance, bursting out in laughter:
  • on That note lance just loves all animals …,,he’s the kinda kid that brings home a stray cat/dog every other day and is like “mom can we keep him” . hell he does that with little lizards he finds on the sidewalk sometimes ..,, “mom can we keep him” “honey put the lizard back he actually lives out here”
  • swerving in another direction y’all ever wonder WHERE lance learned his sharpshooting skills?? like a majority he developed like right away when the war started and he has to quickly adapt but ?? he has to have had SOME previous experience bc the bayards kind of take the form that best suits their paladin, right??? i don’t even have a headcanon for that i just want to know maybe it’s bc he played a lot of shooting games at the arcade and got all the high scores
  • which reminds me like y’all…,,lance is just a teenage boy. he likes video games and pizza and going to parties and hanging out At The Beach With His Pals And stereotypical teenage things. he’s a kid please let him be a kid ..,
  • he likes to paint his nails!! it’s a very soothing task for him and he likes different colors. his favorites are black and blue (but also some purple and red for gay reasons)
  • he struggles a lot with his bisexuality (this is coming from a bi mlm for the record) for a LONG time. not really grasping the idea that he can like both girls AND boys and that it has to be one or the other, that he has to make some kind of choice to be gay or straight. so at some point he identifies as gay and then gets terrified of that and is like no i’m straight and finally..,,starts to come to terms with things and accept himself when he really learns what bisexuality is (hunk tells him probably) and there’s a light bulb over his head that goes DING DING DING BITCH THATS U!!!
  • he loves to watch his friends do things they’re passionate about bc it makes him happy. he loves watching keith draw, the cute concentrated somewhat frustrated look he gets on his face when he sketches. he likes watching pidge work on tech, like the kind she gets excited about, cool robot things and things she loves. hunk is always so happy when he’s cooking or tinkering with machines or talking about chemistry and lance will just sit and listen with a dopey grin. he and allura actually have a shared love of beauty stuff and self care so they get to do that together a lot !!! and shiro doesn’t really…,talk much about his interests or share them and lance is a little nervous to spend alone time with him bc he’s so intimidated (this is his hero!!) but those moments when they do happen to be alone lance is always v soft with him bc at the end of the day he knows shiro is not perfect and that he struggles an immense amount and deserves that softness
  • and coran, he just likes to listen to coran’s stories about all of his adventures, lets him go on about his life in altea for as long as he wants bc he knows it’s so important to coran. sometimes allura will join in and add a few things on to some of the stories or some info when they’re talking about altean culture and lance will listen intently and be so genuinely interested and if reallg means so much to coran and allura
  • lance in general although he puts on a cocky facade loves to listen to people and be there for them, is an incredible sense of support and encouragement and more than anything wants to see his loved ones happy and succeeding
  • going in a completely different direction here now but one time he arranges a paladin sleepover and insists they ALL wear their specialized paladin pajamas and!!! everyone wears theirs except keith bc keith is lame. (he does at least concede to wearing the slippers bc they’re….comfy okay…) and hunk and allura and keith and lance and pidge all!! stay up late and talk and stuff..,,lance teaches allura all the common sleepover games like truth or dare and she gets to really be a teenager again and they all get to just spend the night eating snacks and being kids and playing monopoly and i’m crying and !! it’s all orchestrated by lance bc lance more than anyone knows what they will need for a morale boost
  • He just wANTS OEOPLE TO BE HAPPY
  • outwardly he talks a lot about like glory of winning the war and being a hero and parades!!! but rlly his favorite thing is meeting all the people he’s saved not bc he’s some celebrity to them but bc it’s amazing to see that they’re free and as safe as they can be, that the work he’s doing, the struggles he’s going through and his time so far away from his family really is worth it if he can help so many people
  • i’m doing this so out of order but he can also ride a horse
  • that’s all for now but expect another one soon thx for coming to my ted talk
Countdown

BACK WITH ANOTHER ONE-SHOT!!! I told you guys I’d have some canonverse klangst, so here it is! Longer than my usual one-shots, and while I don’t want to give a vague summary… there’s a bomb involved. So. Yeah, that’s a thing.

This one is actually inspired by this absolutely gorgeous, angsty art/mini-comic by @littlecofiegirl who is an amazing artist that you should definitely check out!!

I saw this comic on my dash and I loved it so much that I was immediately inclined to write for it? Anyway, here it is! I hope you enjoy!


The plan had been going flawlessly.

Key word being had.

Shiro and Lance were both searching opposite sides of the base for their captured teammate, and Pidge and Hunk were too occupied giving Shiro directions through the maze-like corridors that they neglected to warn Lance of the approaching Galra heat signature.

A cat blocked his path in the hall, staring at him with large, yellow eyes. It didn’t move to attack, but it also didn’t run away.

“Um… guys?” Lance tried over the coms, lowering his gun just a bit. He wasn’t about to shoot a cat, but he still wanted to be on guard.

He didn’t hear the Galra behind him until her hand was on his shoulder.

That was mistake number one.

Keep reading

The Wake of War

[AO3]

So.” Stiles drops back against the side of the Jeep, elbows braced and spine sinking slow against the dusty blue metal. Derek’s hovering a few feet away, at the edge of the lot, not quite ready to vanish into the night but not prepared to join with the rest of the group, either.

He needs their voices, maybe, to block out the ones in his head.

“Looks like I saved your ass again,” Stiles is saying, flashing him a crooked grin. He looks warm and bright like the rest of them, a glow of victory dancing around him that can’t quite seep into Derek’s bones. “What’s the count, now? ‘Cause I think I’m getting pretty close to earning a victory ride in that sweet new Camaro.”

Derek’s lips twitch, a snort slipping out.

“I seem to recall saving you last time.”

“Hey, we’ve been through this. At best, that was a tie.” Stiles looks so smug Derek can’t bring himself to argue, and maybe that’s the reason Stiles’ grin falls. His eyes go soft, flitting over Derek’s frame.

“I’m glad you’re ok, man. …I mean, as nice as it would have been to have my very own, hot guy lawn ornament––”

“Why did I look at her?”

He doesn’t mean to say it; flinches at his own words. His hands are too-tight fists he stretches straight with an effort, and when he looks at Stiles again the bright expression’s gone, replaced by tension and an edge of a grimace he’s trying to fight down.

Keep reading

The Seneschal

My first Tumblrfic! A one-shot little thing that just would not get out of my head, so I had to write it down. The unexpected survival of someone important from Thor and Loki’s past prompts hilarity and romance.

Warnings: at least ten times the amount of recommended daily sugary fluff, Loki being rather excessively redeemed, Thor being an adorable doof, mangled old Norse stuff, spoilers for Thor: Ragnarok.


Earth it is, then.

Such simple words. His first real proclamation as king. It seemed simple. Point enormous ship towards Midgard and go there. But, like most things in Thor’s life of late, the reality turned out to be anything but straightforward.

Spaceships were very complicated things. They needed fuel and maintenance and all sorts of other things to keep them running. This one – the newly renamed Asgard – apparently ran on a certain type of exotic matter particular to one of the rarer types of compact star, which was probably why it had been sitting in the Grandmaster’s hangar on Sakaar rather than being actively used. It was a minor miracle – although Loki insisted it had more to do with his outstanding piloting skills – that the thing had managed to limp through the portal in the first place.

It was also low on general supplies, like food and potable water, although on the plus side was extremely lavishly furnished with what turned out to be quite a lot of potentially valuable goods. The mineral ore in the aft hold was also apparently quite prized, or at least the trader Loki spoke to was convinced that it was. Thor decided not to ask for the details of the transaction when his brother had returned with a certain smug edge to his triumphant grin.

‘Why do we need these…hydrosonic things?’

'Hydroponics,’ the Valkyrie, whose name he had finally discovered was Brunhilde, repeated with a roll of her eyes. 'I told you, to grow food. We can’t trade anywhere near enough to keep everyone fed and it is going to take a long while to get to Midgard.’

'Hulk bored.’

'But couldn’t we have traded for more food and less-’ Thor paused to peer at the unfamiliar term on the dataslate ’-nutrient fluid?’

'Yes, but the technology will be more efficient in the long run,’ Loki pointed out. 'The difference between hunting and farming.’

'Hulk bored.’

'At least the water filtration systems seem to work.’ Thor scratched at his chin for a moment. 'Do we have a full head count yet, Heimdall?’

'Six hundred and eighteen,’ the former gatekeeper replied solemnly.

'That’s all?’ Thor tried not to sound too appalled, without much success. Asgard had housed over two hundred thousand people under Odin’s rule. Still, between Hela and Surtr it was remarkable that they had managed to save that many.

'We’ve little idea of who survived,’ Heimdall added. 'I’ve spoken to a few, guildsmen and artisans mostly, but-’

'Hulk BORED!’

'Who invited him?’ Thor asked. 'This is a council meeting, isn’t it?’

'Nobody invited him,’ Loki said. 'He just showed up.’

'We need to get a proper understanding of who we have on board,’ Brunhilde said, loudly enough that they all looked at her and even the Hulk subsided. 'And someone ought to be coordinating berths, and work assignments. Korg and the other scrappers are doing their best but we need-’

'A seneschal,’ Heimdall finished.

'The last seneschal of Asgard was-’ grimacing, Thor glanced at Loki in time to see his brother’s face fall ’-our mother.’

'Historically speaking the role of seneschal is separate to the duties of the royal family,’ Heimdall pointed out. 'But yes, Lady Frigga did adopt it in addition to her obligations as queen.’

'Thor no have queen,’ the Hulk said with a broad grin. 'He bad at girls.’

'That’s-’ Thor tried not to get too indignant at that pronouncement ’-that is not true, I just never – I am not bad at girls. With women. Shut up.’ He sat back and folded his arms, pointedly ignoring Loki’s snicker and Brunhilde’s barely-suppressed chuckles.

'I actually had someone in mind,’ Heimdall said, thankfully putting a stop to any further needling on that front. 'For seneschal,’ he added, only a little hastily, but ignored the Hulk’s snort of amusement at the clarification.

'Oh thank god,’ Thor said with feeling. 'Please call them up.’

'As you wish.’

Discussion turned to other matters in the meantime – Thor had to admit he was rather glad that Loki had so peremptorily taken charge of the need for trading with outside factors, for once putting his gilded tongue to some proper use – until a light knock at the door heralded the arrival of whoever Heimdall’s candidate was. Thor called for the visitor to come in and then felt himself break out into a broad grin of unmitigated delight at the diminutive, dark-haired figure that entered.

'Y/N!’

She inclined her head in a half bow.

'Your majesty.’

Pah.’ Springing to his feet, Thor rounded the table in two quick strides. 'You only called me that when my father was in the room. And even then…’

She laughed and permitted him to pull her into a hug.

'Thor, it’s so good to see you again. Great Norns, who cut your hair?’

'Oh, a creepy old man on an alien planet.’

'It's…different. And crooked-’ one hand actually came up to tug at the side of his shorn locks ’-we must find some shears and at least even it out-’

'No, no-’ Thor hurriedly batted her away ’-no more needs to come off. It’s fine. Really.’

'You’re lopsided! And oh…’ she stroked the skin beside his eyepatch '…your eye…’

'You want to make a hairdresser the seneschal?’ Brunhilde exclaimed to Heimdall.

'I’m hardly a hairdresser,’ Y/N said wryly.

'Then who are you?’

'Peace!’ Thor grinned at them both. 'This is Y/N Sjöfnsdottir – her mother was a nurse of sorts to us when we were boys, we used to play together as children-’

'Until her many talents led her elsewhere,’ Loki finished, standing up to move to his side with a smile that was small and brief enough to give it away as genuine. 'Hello, Y/N.’

'Loki!’ For a moment she stared at him with an unreadable expression. Then she reached out to very carefully prod his chest, clearly expecting him to dissolve into thin air and actually gasping when he didn’t. 'You’re – you’re actually here?’

'Very m-’ he didn’t get any further before she hugged him, too, although it was a much briefer contact and she turned back to Thor rather quickly after letting go.

'So, what does my king require of me?’

He laughed outright at her.

'Your help, as always!’

The Hulk decided to choose that moment to once more announce that he was bored, so after the briefest of amused introductions Brunhilde decided to take him down to the cargo bay, rolling her eyes at Loki’s half-pleading, half-chastising reminder not to damage the trio of extremely valuable power convertors sitting there.

'Not quite a typical successor to the Allfather’s council but at least it’s a bit different,’ Y/N said laughingly to Thor. 'I take it you want to drag me into this to help as chamberlain in some way, since there seems to be a marked lack of organisational ability in the room?’

'You’ve already been invaluable in overseeing the distribution of supplies and the wellbeing of the refugees,’ Heimdall said to her, with a meaningful glance at Thor. 'You’ve a knack for the role.’

'You’re too kind, Lord Heimdall.’

'He’s right, though.’ Thor folded his arms and inclined his head. 'I’d like to appoint you my seneschal, Y/N. The position hasn’t really been in use of late but…well, you’ll be perfect for the job.’

'And if I refuse?’ she asked, but the amused expression on her face said that she wouldn’t do any such thing, and they both knew it.

'I shall be very sad,’ Thor said, beaming at her. 'I’ll moan, and pout, and possibly throw a rage. And then I’ll make Loki do it, instead.’

'Oh, wonderful,’ Loki muttered.

'Dear Norns, there’s a threat and a half. I’d better accept, then.’ Her eyes danced. 'Although I should warn you now that rations are extremely lean which isn’t helping the already extremely low morale of our refuges, so-’

'We’ve already secured some additional supplies, as well as the means to set up food production on board the ship,’ Loki put in.

'What sort of quantities?’

'More ample than if someone else had handled the negotiations.’

Y/N rolled her eyes.

'Naturally. I don’t suppose you bothered putting anything onto the system?’

'The what?’ all three men asked at the same time, provoking an exasperated sigh.

'The ship has an integrated network operations and database system run on the hardwired consoles as well as these-’ she brandished a slim, palm-sized screen at them ’-so perhaps we could consider using it?’

Thor broke into another grin that was as relieved as it was grateful.

'Do you see why we need you?’

*

Ten minutes later, en route down to the enormous main cargo deck, Loki found himself in one of his rarest conditions; lost for what to say.

Y/N was alive.

The idea, the reality, overrode all attempts at cohesive thought. The last time he’d seen her…it had been years ago, before Thor’s confirmation and all that came after. When he’d returned to Asgard in chains, Frigga had said Y/N asked to see him but had been denied by Odin. Of course. Later, after he'd…acquired the throne, he’d wanted to send for her, desperately, but couldn’t risk exposing himself by doing so. Knowing that she’d survived, against all odds, and was here

'Oh, this is good. Depending on the rationing, of course, and we need a proper census to confirm numbers and demographics…’

The detached, businesslike tone was painful to hear. She’d once had nothing but smiles, even for him, laughing at his tricks, defending his wayward nature. Memories surfaced unbidden – sunlit corridors and running feet, his own chuckles and the sweet melody of her laugh.

'…spoken to but I recall there were several greensmen from the lower terraces and at least half a dozen artificers-’

'Y/N.’

She paused and glanced back at him, the animation draining steadily from her face.

'You’re angry with me,’ he said, somehow managing to keep his voice level.

Cocking her head, she folded her hands over the data slate and turned to regard him properly.

'I’m not angry with you.’

'No. I suppose not.’ Loki managed a small, grim smile, and glanced down at his boots. 'Let me guess, you're…livid, enraged, furious, perhaps all three?’

'I’m hurt.’

'What?’ That made him look up at her.

'We all thought you were dead, Loki.’ Y/N’s voice sounded taut as a bowstring, ready to snap but barely controlled. 'After the Bifrost – after Midgard – after everything – I’m not angry with you. I just can’t believe you would let us all think-’ pausing, she sniffed and seemed to collect herself after a moment. 'I tried to see you, before.’

'I know.’

'I begged Odin, but he refused and your mother – your mother said it was best I didn’t. Later I…left.’

'Left?’

'The city. I went north into the wilds.’

He blinked, confused.

'Why?’

'Why would I not?’ she replied, and wiped at her eyes as if impatient with herself. 'My family were all gone by then, and your mother – and then Thor was gone, and you were dead.’ Stopping, she took a short breath. 'I was living in one of the old fortresses up in the mountains when Heimdall found me, on the run, and then there was Hela, and the refugees started arriving…’

'I’m sorry,’ Loki blurted, and had to drop his eyes when she looked askance at him. He closed the distance between them and put his hands over hers. 'I never…I never meant to hurt you. Not like that, not – not at all. I’m sorry.’

Y/N sighed and met his gaze when he raised it.

'Everything and…you’re sorry.’

'Yes.’ He risked a small grin. 'Well, not entirely sorry…I mean, if you hadn’t left the city and been in the mountains when Hela arrived then you might not be here, and alive. And that I would not change for anything.’

She stared at him for a long moment and turned, pulling away and lifting a hand to cover her mouth. For a moment Loki panicked, but then she whirled back and he felt his shoulders sag in relief as she threw her arms about him, laughing and crying all at once.

'Oh, I have missed you, you – you – scoundrel!’

He hugged her back, taking the opportunity to bury his nose in her braided hair, and felt an irresistible grin of pure delight split his face as he did.

'I’ve missed you, too.’

The embrace still didn’t go on as long as he would have liked, but at least it was better than the perfunctory one from earlier. Y/N drew back and smiled, reaching up to trail her fingers through a strand of his hair.

'Thor loses his, and yours grows out…it suits you.’

'Thank you.’ He barely resisted the urge to lean into her hand – curses, he’d forgotten the effect her touch had on him – and tried to sound brisk. 'Shall we look at these supplies, then?’

'Yes, we’d better.’

An hour later, back in the cabin he’d appropriated for himself, Loki sat down hard on the still-strange bed and regarded the empty wall opposite him blankly. His fingers flexed.

Cast enough illusions and you risk forgetting what is real.

But sometimes forgetting, even just for a little while, was enough.

He gave in and reached for his magic, cloaking the narrow room in a glamour that enveloped all of his own senses while betraying nothing to others. It was an old spell, easy to cast, as familiar as the pages of a well-read book. For a moment he closed his eyes, drinking in the cheers and adulation but not caring about the false crowd.

“They love you, you know. Perhaps almost as much as I do.”

Loki opened his eyes and smiled at her. He’d spent a long time getting every detail of the chimera just right, from the way the light hit her hair to the exact hue of her dress. Green and gold, of course, but then she was lovely to him whatever colours she wore.

'My beautiful queen,’ he murmured. The glamour smiled back, a perfect simulacrum of her face, and stepped up to his side.

“My beloved king.”

Loki reached up towards her but stopped just short of touching her face, knowing that would dispel the illusion. Instead he banished the rest – the hall, the crowds, the regal trappings – stripping the spell back so that she stood before him much as she had just now in the cargo bay. He could almost pretend she was really there.

A knock at the door shattered his concentration and he hastily broke the spell, taking a few breaths to collect himself. But still the fantasy lurked in his mind’s eye, taunting him anew to have something so close and yet so out of reach.

*

'…twelve weavers and nine jewellers, but none of them are adverse to retraining so I was thinking of an adaptation of the old apprenticing system, perhaps?’

'That sounds perfect. What do we need – uh – more of?’

'Artificers, mostly, although more greensmen wouldn’t go amiss. Oh, there’s also the matter of the twenty-nine orphans.’

'Orphans?’

That slightly alarmed exclamation from Thor was enough to bring Loki’s attention sharply back to the council meeting in full.

'There were lots of separations in the evacuation, and beforehand,’ Y/N said. 'What with one thing and another…yes, we’ve twenty-nine children who are without parents or other family to take care of them.’

'Thank the Norns it’s that few,’ Brunhilde advised grimly, taking a swig from her current bottle.

'Yes. Well.’ Thor leaned forward and laced his hands on the table. 'Any suggestions?’

'Two that I can think of.’ Naturally Y/N had not brought a problem without already thinking of a solution. 'We could set up some sort of centralised caretaking attached to the new school-’

'An orphanage, you mean,’ Loki interrupted. Thor made a face.

'I don’t much care for that idea. What alternative is there?’

'Fostering,’ Y/N said. 'There are also those who lost children, or whole families who survived and might be willing to take another child in.’

'Old Asgard had a rich tradition of fostering,’ Heimdall put in. 'Not just for the parentless, but between wider families or different bloodlines.’

'Yes. I recall Fandral was fostered most of his life with an old ally of his uncle’s because he was nothing but a nuisance to his parents.’ Thor’s grin at the memory of his friend dimmed slightly at the sudden recollection of his death. 'Still – that seems a far better idea to me. We should ask those who are able. I mean I should ask,’ he amended hastily, and for some reason glanced at Loki with a slight frown. 'Is that…appropriate?’

'I think the king gets to decide what is and isn’t appropriate under the circumstances, brother,’ Loki replied dryly, but couldn’t help an involuntary surge of affection for the enormous oaf.

'Yes, of course. Well, then, if you could-’ Thor gestured absently in Y/N’s direction, but she was already making a note on her slate ’-and could I speak to the children, as well? I’d just like to tell them that they – ah – won’t be forgotten about. Nor their lost families.’

'Of course,’ she said, and flashed Brunhilde a small smile when the Valkyrie’s eyebrows rose dubiously. 'Thor’s always had a soft spot for little ones. Something to do with comparable intellectual capacities, I believe,’ she added, catching Loki’s eye with a wink that made him chuckle. It was an old jest, from happier days, and he tried to ignore the way her gaze seeking his made his heart stutter as though tripping over itself.

'Hey!’ Thor protested. 'I am your king now, you know.’

'Of course,’ Y/N said, both unruffled and unrepentent. 'I’ll send the list of comparable intellects to your slate…your majesty.’

The Hulk’s booming sniggers in Thor’s direction echoed as she made her way out of the room, until Heimdall suddenly leaned forward and cleared his throat.

'The mention of children is perhaps timely.’

Thor’s grin vanished instantly, replaced by bewilderment.

'Eh?’

'You should think about taking a wife,’ Heimdall went on, as calmly as if he were suggesting that the other man take a short walk.

'A wife?’

'He’s talking about the royal succession, your majesty,’ Brunhilde said dryly, taking another swig from her drink. 'Sorting out a queen, begetting heirs, that sort of thing.’

Begetting-’ Thor hurriedly cleared his throat, visibly panicking ’-no, I don’t think we need to worry about any begetting just now, we’ve got larger concerns and-’

'A king should have a queen,’ Heimdall insisted.

'I think I’ll decide if-’

'The people of Asgard just went from a substantial number to an endangered species,’ Loki said, now thoroughly entertained by his brother’s discomfiture. 'Most of the berths on this enormous ship are still empty, even with all the survivors.’

'Point.’ Brunhilde grinned, clearly also now rather enjoying herself. 'It’s going to take a few years to get to Midgard even at the top speed this ship can do, which it won’t be doing most of the time, and only one way to boost the population for the long term.’

'A king should lead by example, should he not?’ Loki added with affected innocence, and snickered all the more at the glare his brother shot him.

'Those considerations aside, it will comfort the people to know the fate of the throne is secure,’ Heimdall said, somehow still contriving to be serious despite the fact that Thor was positively fidgeting in unease at this point. 'A queen, and an heir, will help everyone remember that Asgard still has a future.’

Except-’ Thor raised his hand as if he’d just plucked the deciding argument out of mid-air ’-I don’t have anyone to marry. So. Can’t be done.’

'There are plenty of unattached women on board,’ Loki pointed out. 'Pick one.’

'Look in my direction and I’ll hit you,’ Brunhilde said when Thor’s gaze started to slip sideways. ’Your majesty.’

'Well I can’t just-’ Thor was all but spluttering now ’-I can’t just pick a woman like…like plucking an apple from the nearest tree-’

'Thor no pick apples or women. Thor got no game.’

’-shut up, Hulk – and besides, I haven’t really been around on Asgard for years, I don’t even really know anyone-’

'I’m sure we can help you find one,’ Loki said helpfully.

'That is a fair point,’ Heimdall said, raising a hand to forestall further bickering. 'The queen of Asgard cannot be chosen lightly, especially now. It must be someone capable and caring, someone known to the people who has their trust-’

'Someone like Y/N,’ Thor said absently, stroking his beard. 'What?’ he asked when they all stared at him. 'I just mean – oh, god! No, I couldn’t marry Y/N! Could I?’

Loki became aware that his amused grin had turned rather brittle.

'I think that’s between you and Y/N,’ Brunhilde said with a laugh.

'She would be ideal,’ Heimdall said slowly. 'Everyone knows her, and trusts her – she was coordinating the refugees and supplies even before you appointed her as seneschal. She’s the right age, from a good line, familiar with the duties of the crown-’

'But I can’t marry Y/N!’ Thor exclaimed. 'It’d be…weird. Wouldn’t it?’ Ignoring Brundhilde’s scoffing, he glanced at Loki. 'Surely you don’t agree with this?’

It took every inch of Loki’s skill in dissembling to keep his expression neutrally amused. Every instinct in him screamed to agree, to insist that Thor could never marry Y/N Sjöfnsdottir, to conjure some excuse or reason why such an arrangement would be utterly disastrous…

'She would be an excellent candidate, brother,’ he heard himself say. 'Heimdall is right. She’s capable, accomplished, known and trusted, and…has a heart big enough to love all of the Nine Realms and much beyond.’ Oops. He hadn’t meant to say that bit, but nobody seemed to have noticed the slip and in fact Thor was now looking rather pensive.

'I suppose you’re right. She is kind, and fair. It would be…strange. At first, perhaps. But we could find a way to make it work, I’m sure. Still…’ he grimaced again, lost in thought.

Speak, you fool, Loki raged at himself. Nudge his doubts and have him put the idea aside! Why are you struck dumb now of all moments?

'I suggest you ask her, your majesty,’ Brunhilde said. 'These are hardly the days of Búri and Auðumbla when a king may co-opt a woman without her permission. Not that it wouldn’t be very funny to watch you try.’

Hur hur hur. Thor bad at girls.’

'Shut up, Hulk.’ Thor folded his arms defensively. 'Fine. I’ll speak with her later. Is there any other real business to discuss?’ he added, rather witheringly.

There was not, thankfully, and the others left – the Hulk still chortling – but before Loki could flee the room he felt an enormous hand descend onto his shoulder.

'Brother,’ Thor’s gaze was entreating. 'You must help me. I’ve not the way with words that you do, and of all the people to have to ask this, of all things-’

Under other circumstances Loki would have doubled over in laughter, but the painful reality of it kept him sober. So now he was to counsel his brother, the mighty Thor, ever-preferred and ever-glorified, on how to gain the hand of the one woman that he, Loki, would ever truly love.

'You need no tricks, Thor,’ he made himself say. 'No speeches. Simply explain to her the need and ask what you must of her. She’s no stranger or foreign princess to falsely court.’

'Yes…of course.’ Thor visibly exhaled. 'Thank you, Loki.’ A grin. 'At this rate I could be forgiven for thinking you really have decided to reform.’

'Don’t draw hasty conclusions, brother.’ And Loki left the room in a hurry before he betrayed himself.

*

'You said you needed to speak with me?’

'Yes!’ Thor hurriedly modified his tone, trying desperately not to bely his nervousness. How absurd. He would have gladly fought Hela a dozen times, or taken on Surtr’s mountainous fiery form in single combat, rather than have this conversation. 'Come in. Sit. Um. Would you like a drink? It’s-’ he squinted at the bottle, attempting to recall the name, but could only come up with ’-blue.’

Y/N chuckled as she settled into one of the chairs.

'I’ll leave the mysterious beverages to Brunhilde, thank you.’

'Fair enough. Uh, do you mind if I-’

'Of course not.’

Thor Odinson, the God of Thunder, reduced to drink to try and calm his nerves! The new King of Asgard downed the tumbler, wincing slightly at the aftertaste, and finally turned to face the woman he now had to…propose to. Oh, it would be no real hardship. Y/N was fair of face and kind of heart, and there was no doubt in his mind that she would make a wonderful queen, and wife. And mother, however much the latter in particular terrified him. But it was…Y/N. He and Loki had once chased her screaming down the main hallway of the palace and the three of them ended up in a wrestling match in the pond outside the gates. Once he’d pulled her hair, and she’d kicked him so hard between the legs he couldn’t walk right for two days. Loki had nearly killed himself laughing at the sight of his mighty older brother reduced to a moaning limp.

'You said you needed to speak to me?’ Y/N prompted. 'You’re just staring like I’ve sprouted a second head.’

'Oh. Yes. Right.’ Thor sat down opposite her. What had Loki said? Simply explain to her the need and ask what you must. Easy for you to say, brother. 'So. After you left the council today something came up – well, Heimdall brought it up – and I need to ask you to, um…’ he trailed off, because she was sitting there with her hands folded calmly in her lap regarding him with infinite patience and his mouth suddenly decided to forget how to work.

After a few moments of him opening and closing his mouth on the barely formed beginning of sentences, Y/N actually leaned towards him with a small frown of concern.

'Thor, what in the worlds is the matter?’

'Nothing,’ he managed. 'Nothing is the matter.’ For some reason his eyes chose to fix on the ample curve of her lips, so entirely unlike the slim contours of Jane’s. Why did the notion of kissing her fill him with such intense panic? 'It came up – Heimdall mentioned – well, it was sort of agreed – that Asgard needs a…uh…a queen.’

She sat back and nodded as though this was the most normal conversation in the world.

'Of course. Continuity of the royal line, the future of our people. Very sensible.’

'Oh. Good. I’m – ah – I’m glad you agree.’ Sitting back himself with a rather poor attempt at nonchalance, Thor tapped his fingers against the arms of the chair. 'There were…suggestions…I mean there was a suggestion on a very good candidate and-’

'Oh. Oh.’ Then she smiled. 'Of course! She’s very…different from your lady mother, but that’s perhaps all to the good. Have you spoken with her?’

’S-spoken with her?’ Thor echoed, now utterly bewildered. 'I thought I was – I mean I am – I mean she’s you.’

Me?’

'Yes.’ Confused, a little alarmed at her disbelieving tone, Thor’s mind went completely blank and before he could entirely register the motion he had shifted to one knee before her, as though they were on Midgard. 'Will you – uh – will you marry me?’ Damn, I don’t have a ring. Wait! I don’t need a ring, we aren’t on Earth. Damn, I don’t have anything else for a handsal either. He found himself actually patting at his clothing, entirely at a loss. Oh! He still had one of the smaller daggers he’d appropriated from Sakaar during the escape. A dagger wasn’t a very appropriate handsal for a woman like Y/N who wasn’t martially-inclined, but it was better than nothing. With fumbling fingers he unbuckled the sheath and held it out to her.

'Uh. Sorry. I didn’t plan this very well.’

Y/N looked away for a moment, biting at her bottom lip, and there was genuine regret on her face when she turned back to him.

'Am I speaking to my king, or to Thor?’

That doesn’t sound good.

'Oh. Uh, me. Thor, I mean. Always.’

'I can’t marry you, Thor. And I won’t.’

He blinked.

'You mean – you’re saying no?’

'I am saying no, Thor. I’m sorry but-’ she stopped when he got up and then half-collapsed back into the chair, clapping his hands over his face.

'Oh, thank god!’

He exhaled, leaning back for a moment and feeling as though an enormous weight had just vanished from his shoulders. Then he noticed the bewilderment on her face.

'I’m sorry, I’m sorry, I just…of course we can’t get married. It’d be…it’d be weird. Creepy. You know?’

She burst into giggles.

'When why in all the Realms did you ask me, you great lummock?’

'Well your name came up and everyone agreed you were a good choice and-’ Thor broke off and gave up, joining her in laughter at the sheer absurdity of the entire concept. 'You’re absolutely right, of course. It would be insanity. I thought perhaps we could…make it work somehow, but-’

'I think we could,’ she said with a smile, standing up and patting his arm fondly. 'If it came to it. I care for you a great deal, Thor, truly, but-’

'Then why?’ he asked, thoroughly taken aback by that pronouncement.

'Because my heart belongs to another, that’s why.’ She gathered her skirts and made for the door, but his noise of surprise checked her. 'What? And I swear, if you make one comment about you being my king I’ll-’

'No, no, never!’ He beamed at her. 'But you…I had no idea you had any – uh – well. Is it anyone I know?’ A horrible thought occurred. 'Oh…is it someone who’s alive?’

'Yes, he’s alive, and that’s all I’m saying on the matter.’

'Oh?’ Thor’s brows creased with the effort at an intuitive leap. 'Oh! Is it – good god – is it Heimdall? I know you two were up in that refuge for quite a while before-’

'It isn’t Heimdall, and-’ she held up a finger in warning ’-I am not about to play some extended guessing game, so you can stop your postulating right now.’

'But I want to know!’

'Tough!’

'I’m your king!’

'I don’t care!’

*

Loki was reading in relative peace in one of the smaller refectories on the upper deck, having sent an illusionary simulacrum of himself off to keep Korg occupied, when Thor came bouncing in with the sort of joyous, boyish bonhomie that he hadn’t exhibited since before his brief exile to Midgard.

Oh, wonderful.

Too late, the oaf had spotted him and he’d probably have to engage in at least some brief conversation before he could conjure another duplicate to slip away. What could he possibly say to congratulate his brother on gaining the one hand Loki had ever wanted to see in his? How could he possibly conceal his bitterness at the unwitting cruelty of it?

'Brother!’ Thor boomed, levering himself down onto the metal bench at Loki’s side. 'You will not believe what just happened!’

'I take it that congratulations are in order?’ Loki ground out.

'What? Oh, no!’ Thor slapped him on the shoulder. 'Y/N said she couldn’t marry me, thank god.’

'Oh dear.’ Trying to keep his voice neutral, Loki exhaled slowly as relief flooded him. Thank the Norns, finally, for some small mercy. 'Does she miss your flowing locks, perhaps?’

'Very funny. No, she said her heart belongs to someone else! How about that?’ Thor grinned as though he’d just said something terribly witty. 'It never even occurred to me that Y/N might have someone. Someone on this ship, since she said he’s alive. Oh, but it isn’t Heimdall.’

'Heimdall is old enough to be Y/N’s father,’ Loki pointed out, but the relief had already evaporated to be replaced once more by grim despair. Of course Y/N had a suitor. Amazing it was only one. And of course said suitor would have waited for her to return from her self-imposed exile, and of course the thrice-bedamned bastard would survive Ragnarok itself…

'I suppose.’ Thor for some reason seemed irrepressibly fascinated by the situation. 'She wouldn’t tell me who it was, though.’

'It’s hardly any of your business,’ Loki said. 'Or mine,’ he added, as much to remind himself as to point out that his brother was gossiping like an old washerwoman.

'I suppose not technically, but…she is rather like our sister, don’t you think?’

'I think given recent events, actively seeking out another sister sounds like a poor plan.’

'Well, yes, but-’ Thor nudged him insistently ’-don’t you want to know who it is? Oughtn’t we to find out, to make sure he's…well…worthy of her?’

That wasn’t actually the worst line of reasoning Loki had ever heard from his brother, but the idea of pursuing the information would be unlikely to end well.

'I’m sure Y/N would be touched by your concern,’ he said sarcastically, returning his attention fully to the slate in his hands. 'However I’ve certainly no interest in arousing her displeasure by poking my nose into the matter.’ And thereby putting a large target on the head of some unfortunate who has done no real wrong…and whose loss would break her heart.

Pah, I thought this would be right up your street, brother. Investigation, intrigue, sneaking about…’

'No.’ Loki got up and walked out, ignoring Thor’s playful shouts and not pausing for a moment until he was back in his quarters. A twist of frustrated magic burst from him, knocking things onto the floor. Ruthlessly he pulled it back under control and gestured sharply, summoning the doppelganger of Y/N. Tranquil, unjudging, gentle. Reaching out carefully, so as not to disturb the spell, he traced his fingers around the shape of her cheek.

'I love you more than anything in this world or any other,’ he whispered. 'No matter what.’

But of course the illusion simply looked back at him, serene and beautiful and as empty as always.

*

'Is it Bjarke, that artificer who solved the power integration problem?’

'How long are you going to keep at this? Surely you’ve named every unmarried Asgardian man on the ship by now.’

'Possibly.’ Thor smiled and shrugged. 'You still haven’t given me an answer. Not so much as a wink, a clue, anything!’

'Why are you so desperately insistent about knowing?’ Y/N exclaimed as they rounded the corner and entered the empty council chamber. 'Do you want to go and challenge him, or something similarly archaic?’

'No, of course not.’ Thor sat down and crossed his feet up on the table, then grinned when she slapped his boots down on a reflex. 'Y/N, I merely wish to know, whoever this man is, that he is worthy of you.’

She laughed.

Worthy of me? And by what yardstick would you measure such a thing, hmm?’

'Well-’ that had him stumped for a moment ’-I don’t know…does he seem honourable…is he of good mind, and heart…’

'I doubt very much he’d come out very well against your measurements of such things, Thor.’

'Eh?’

Slamming her data slate onto the table with unnecessary force, Y/N levelled her gaze at him.

'You won’t give up, will you?’

'Never!’ Thor leaned over and took her hands in his. 'Please, Y/N. I honestly don’t mean to tease, really. You know I care a great deal for you, and this mystery suitor of yours-’

'Hardly a suitor.’ She gave his fingers a squeeze and sighed. 'Thor, my heart belongs – entirely and completely – to Loki. I’ve loved him since I came of an age to see boys as anything more than a noisy nuisance.’

Thor felt his jaw drop.

'Despite knowing all that he’s done, the mistakes he’s made, even that he isn’t actually Aesir…’ Y/N shrugged and let go, sitting back with a wistful look '…he’s an imp and a scoundrel and he’s Loki. I know he’s done some…horrible, awful things, but he has a good heart.’

Thor was still gaping as the doors opened to admit Heimdall, and the sound of Loki and Brunhilde bickering just behind him.

'Even if he keeps it rather well hidden at times,’ Y/N finished under her breath, hastily shifting back to her usual chair but shooting Thor a stern glare that warned him to silence on the matter.

He could hardly concentrate as the business of the meeting got underway, barely managing monosyllabic grunts and acknowledgements to anything he was asked.

He felt like a fool. A blind, idiotic fool.

Even when you had both eyes, you only see half the picture.

Of course Y/N was in love with Loki. Even when the three of them were children, running riot around the palace, it was Loki and Y/N, Y/N and Loki. Hiding together, running together – usually from Thor – whispering together in corners or behind tapestries…

It took a whole hour after the council broke up before the King of Asgard realised something very important and practically sprinted down the passageway to his brother’s quarters.

*

The near-frantic hammering at his door made Loki hastily dismiss his current illusion spell and glance over in irritation.

Yes?’

Thor barged in without further preamble and an enormous grin plastered all over his big, oafish face.

'Brother! There you are!’

'What do you want?’ Loki snapped. The glamour he’d been practicing was quite involved – he was trying to recreate a particularly fond memory of himself and Y/N in the palace gardens.

'I’ve made a discovery of vital importance,’ Thor said, clapping his brother on the back.

'How wonderful for you.’

'It’s about Y/N.’ Thor sat down beside him and grinned. 'And her mystery man.’

'I’m not interested.’

'You should be.’

'And yet.’ Loki glared at him. 'I doubt she would appreciate your attempts to-’

'She told me who he is.’

'I don’t care.’

'I don’t believe you.’

'Good for you.’

'Loki!’ Thor punched him on the arm, hard. 'You really aren’t interested?’

'No, I’m not.’

Now his brother’s grin had taken on an even more buffoon-like quality than usual. Folding his arms – aware it was a defensive action and not caring – Loki fixed him with a steely gaze.

What?’

'You have no idea. Loki, God of Mischief, self-proclaimed master manipulator, and you have no idea!’ Thor seemed to be enjoying himself immensely for some reason.

'I have no idea about Y/N’s suitor because I choose not to,’ Loki spat back at him, irritated beyond measure with his persistence. 'As should you, it being none of either of our business-’

'It’s you.’

’-what?’

'Y/N has no suitor, she just said her heart belongs to another, and that man is you, brother!’ Thor thumped him on the arm again but this time Loki barely registered the impact because he was too busy battling to keep his expression under control. Devoid of any real reaction. Devoid of the completely irrational feeling of hope that welled up despite his best efforts to suppress it.

He looked away and constructed a shrug.

'If that is your attempt at a jest, brother, it is an exceptionally poor one.’

'I would not jest on this. Loki.’ Thor actually grabbed his arm and pulled him back. 'I’ve been trying for the last week to get Y/N to tell me who held her heart-’

Loki hardly heard him, mind racing. He couldn’t have let something slip. He was a master of masks, and he’d had centuries of practice with this particular one. Had Thor perhaps just stumbled upon this awful prank by pure chance, seeking something to taunt his brother with and having the idea prompted by the recent discovery of Y/N’s survival?

Yes, that must be it.

'Loki!’ Thor snapped his fingers in front of his brother’s nose. 'Are you even listening?’

'You’re hilarious,’ Loki said flatly. 'Forgive me for not rolling about in laughter but I’m rather weary.’

'You care for her so little that you’d treat this as a joke?’ Thor stood up, shifting rapidly from irritated affability to genuine displeasure. 'I thought you’d changed. Perhaps I was wrong.’

'I’m not the one making mockery of one he claimed to think of as a sister,’ Loki snapped.

'For god’s sake, Loki, you’re supposed to be the prince of lies, surely you can see when someone is telling you the truth?’

Thoroughly angry now, Loki looked at him with his mouth open to retort, but the words died before he could form them. Of course so much of subterfuge was knowing how to read it flawlessly in others, from their more obvious tells to the subtler signals available only to a master of magic…

There was no lie in Thor’s eyes.

The mask dropped before Loki could stop it, and an edge of something almost like pity crept into Thor’s gaze.

'Loki, you fool, how long have you felt this way about her?’

'Too long,’ Loki admitted, and had to lean both his hands on the tabletop to stop himself from stumbling. 'She has no idea. Nobody does. Did,’ he amended.

'Yet still you counselled for me to try and wed her?’

'She would make an excellent queen for Asgard.’ Loki hung his head and shook it. 'And you would have done everything in your power to make her happy.’

'I still will.’

That made him look up, and his brows creased.

'What?’

'Y/N will not marry me because her heart belongs to you. You rather clearly feel the same way about her, though you’ve hidden it even better than she has.’ Thor spread his hands in an expansive shrug. 'Why should you not be together, brother?’

'After all I’ve done, and all your talk of worthiness, you would send a frost giant to her?’ Loki asked, making no attempt to hide his bitterness at the latter part of the remark.

'She knows your heritage and cares not.’ Thor shrugged again. 'I care for both of you, and I believe she brings out the best of you. She always has, even when we were children.’

That made Loki laugh, although he couldn’t deny the truth in that verdict.

'Ah, so your plan is to leash me to Y/N to keep me behaving myself, is that it?’

'Will it count as a leash if you wear it willingly?’ Thor replied with another grin, and then sobered. 'If this will make someone I care for very much so happy, and give me my brother back…how could I possibly do anything but wish for it to be so?’

That was actually rather touching, but Loki still found himself wary to the point of hesitancy. After everything he’d done, the lives he’d taken, the knowledge that he was a monster from the nightmares of Aesir children…it was one thing to say she cared for him, but if he dared to present himself to Y/N and ask for her favour then surely, surely she would recoil in shock.

He was startled out of this unpleasant rumination when Thor stepped behind him, grabbed him by his upper arms and practically frog-marched him out of the room and down the corridor.

'What are you doing?’

'You can thank me later.’ Stopping in front of another cabin door, Thor put him squarely in front of it, leaned around to knock loudly on the metal and then turned to depart. Loki floundered for a moment – he hadn’t been so summarily carted somewhere by his brother in well over eight centuries – but before he could summon the wherewithal to do anything at all, least of all flee or cloak himself, the door opened and Y/N was regarding him with a rather confused expression.

'Loki? What’s wrong?’ She ushered him quickly inside while he was still trying to gain control of his tongue. 'You look like you’ve just been savaged by a bilgesnipe!’

The entirely relevant but inappropriate conclusion had a snort of laughter escaping before he could censor it.

'No, I – ah – I just needed to speak with you.’

'Of course.’ She motioned for him to take one end of the small couch and then sat down a decorous distance away. Loki swallowed hard, his throat suddenly dry. This would never do…the God of Mischief, left tongue-tied like a stripling boy…

'What is it?’ Y/N asked him gently, reaching out to lightly touch the back of his hand. When he looked at her she gave a small smile. 'Oh dear. The last time a son of Odin boggled at me like that things got extremely awkward.’

'Yes. About that.’ His voice broke and he hurriedly cleared his throat. 'Thor told me about the – um – the proposal. And why you…said no to him.’

A guarded tension stiffened her shoulders.

'Oh?’

Loki risked shuffling up a little and took her nearby hand in both of his.

'Yes. All of it.’

He hadn’t seen her look that murderous since he’d set fire to her doll when they were children. And that had been an accident. Well, mostly.

'I am going to kill that useless, nosy, prying-’

'Y/N, I love you.’ It came out in rather a rush, and Loki hastily carried on in the vague hope that with sufficient momentum behind them the words would come easier. 'I’ve always loved you. I never thought – I never imagined you would – especially after everything…the Bifrost, and Midgard, and knowing how I hurt you by pretending to be dead for so long-’

He was obliged to stop when her lips suddenly arrived on his. Then they were kissing each other and her hands were on his face, his fingers were winding through her hair and the entire room seemed to shrink to nothing but the feel of her against him…

They were both gasping by the time they broke for air. Loki pulled Y/N closer and leaned his forehead against hers, feeling a grin escape. Then it became a laugh – the most free, open one he could remember having uttered in years – and her chuckle rose to meet his until they were both all but doubled over in each other’s embrace.

'Oh, Loki-’ Y/N tangled her hands up through his dark locks ’-we’re both such idiots. I never even dreamed a prince of Asgard could love a mere housekeeper.’

'And I never thought a beautiful, kind-hearted seneschal could care for a lesser son, or a monster.’ Loki touched her cheek and then drew back, dropping his gaze. 'You know what I am. I’m not even Aesir. I can’t-’ he swallowed ’-I can’t give you children, or anything normal-’

'Hush.’ She kissed him again, with such tenderness that it made his heart ache. 'Loki, I love you, with everything that means.’ Her smile warmed him down to his toes. 'Why in all the Realms would I want something normal when I could have you?’

'You…truly don’t care?’

'Not in the slightest. Besides-’ she winked ’-with your idiot interfering bilgesnipe of a brother to look after, what need will we have of children?’

They both laughed at that and Loki pulled her closer, into his arms where he’d so yearned to have her for so very long.

'That’s very true.’

'I’m still going to kill him,’ she added playfully.

'Of course. Maybe be merciful and make it painless.’

'If you insist.’ Tucking her head under his chin, she sighed deeply. 'How I love you, Loki.’

'And I love you.’ He turned his head so his cheek rested on her hair. 'I should have told you so a long time ago.’

'Tell me every day,’ she replied softly.

'As my lady wishes,’ he said with a laugh, and kissed her.

*

Thor was halfway back to his own cabin, grinning delightedly and feeling thoroughly pleased with himself, when something else occurred to him and made him stop short.

'Wait – who did Y/N think I was going to ask to marry me?“

summersaltturn  asked:

"Have anyone told you you have the most intimidating nostrils I've ever seen?"

“Yeah, I won an award, junior year,” Derek answers, frowning at his new IKEA (bought and built, all in a soft Henley sweater; Stiles knows, he supervised) book-shelf, like he hasn’t just finished a seven hundred page tome on Egyptian artefacts. A seven hundred page tome on Egyptian artefacts alone.

Derek Hale: epic nerd and assembler of easy-to-build IKEA products. Of course, Stiles thinks, cursing his stupid Professor and DIY kinks. Why not? The worst part is, he doesn’t even think those kinks are sexual. It’s just….a thing. That he has. A Derek thing. The Butterflies That Live In His Stomach were trying so desperately to move on with their lives, too. They’d shopped around. Hired a real-estate agent. They were ready, goddammit!  

Derek settles on a book - Stiles is pretty sure it also has the word ‘artefacts’ in the title - and sighs, all feigned nostalgia, and glances over his shoulder. “It was a golden nose, too. Across the bottom it said,” he pauses, grinning, “Stiles Stilinski needs to get a life.”

Stiles opens his mouth, clutches his chest, because rude much? Is it his fault Derek’s nostrils belong in some kind of anatomy museum? Is it his fault his Saturday nights are spent playing video games in his underwear, when his week days are spent chasing down monsters and researching things like how Scott and Erica managed to contract chicken pox when stabbing them does, like, nothing? (Except get Erica excited because she’s a beautiful, terrifying weirdo.) The moment he tries to tell Derek this, however, a copy of - is that Pride and Prejudice? - is thrown at his head. 

Stiles doesn’t know if he’s more offended when Derek rolls his eyes when it misses him, or the concerned look that crosses his face when the book sails past him and lands in an empty pizza box, like Derek is worried if it’s okay or not. 

And to think, Stiles was going to screw up his courage and finally invite Derek to see a movie this weekend. In an actual theatre. Where people go to be normal. Well, the laugh is on Derek because Stiles is going to buy the big popcorn and he’s going to enjoy it all on his own. 

Yeah, that’ll show him. 

~

“Has anyone ever told you your eyebrows could star in a disturbing kid’s movie about caterpillars?” 

Stiles is drunk. No, he’s wasted. Hammered. Loaded. Completely and utterly shit faced. Which is probably why instead of ending up on his ass on the floor, Derek just pinches the bridge of his nose, tips his head against the back of the couch and says, “what.” Not even a hint of inflection.

This dude, Stiles thinks, and then laughs because, ohmygod, Derek is this dude now. Not that dude or whoa, what are you doing crawling through my window, dude? but this dude. And that’s kind of beautifully heart warming, in its own way. 

Really, Stiles should write into Hallmark. It could be a trilogy. A Gay Trilogy ™. Bisexuals on ice. Except, without the ice because Stiles doesn’t know how to skate. Can Derek skate? Stiles totally bets Derek can skate.   

Speaking of Derek, he’s got this little crinkle on his forehead now, right between his eyebrows, and man, they really are very nice eyebrows. Animated but nice. A little dramatic but nice. Murderous but nice.

“What,” Derek says again, looking more confused than annoyed by the second. Stiles really wants to kiss him.

Instead, he stares. Stares and stares and stares.

Shit.

Slapping a hand over his mouth, he begins laughing uncontrollably and before he knows it, he’s clutching his sides and has his face pressed against Derek’s chest, because the hilarity is killing him. 

Because this is them now. Drinking peach-snaps at Derek’s loft, on a couch filled with throw pillows. Throw pillows. One is even soft and pink and frilly and another has a picture of the pack on it. Granted, no one is looking at the camera but Derek, Boyd and Kira and Derek is not so much looking at the camera as yelling at Stiles (holding the camera) for eating his secret stash of cookies, but it’s nice. It’s a nice picture. There is a plain black pillow too, of course. Somewhere. Stiles might be sitting on it, actually. He figures one can only expect so much when it comes to sour-wolves but Erica glued little cat ears on it last week and Derek said nothing. Fuck, he’d even smiled.

It says a lot about what a secret softie Derek is when it comes to vulnerable, drunk-ass people, because he doesn’t push Stiles away; just lets him laugh and laugh until he passes out, drooling on his chest. 

When Stiles wakes up, Derek’s sweater is pretty soaked through but he hasn’t moved an inch. He does, however, tell Stiles he snores like a deranged goose and that he owes him a pastry later.

He doesn’t even ask for a specific kind, Stiles chastises in his head, falling back to sleep. He’s in love with a pastry idiot. 

~

“Do you know when you smile, you brighten up the whole damn room?”

The question clearly catches Derek off guard because he falls head first…into a duck pond. 

Stiles’ first reaction is to jump in after him - he hates to admit it, but he gets a little nervous around water when Derek is with him; there have been several incidents where he’s unconsciously grabbed Derek’s hand in order to drag him away from pools and, one time, a very large puddle - but when Derek emerges, wearing his someone is about to die face, Stiles can’t be held accountable for the way he falls to the ground because, yup, that’s a tiny, outraged duckling perched on top of Derek’s head.   

“Oh my god,” he yells, rolling onto his back and kicking his legs in the air. He feels like a kid, grabbing his stomach, water practically pouring from his eyes. This was, quite possibly, the best day of his life.

Normally, Derek would be yelling threats - several, in fact, some in Spanish because he’s a show off - but he just stands there….in the middle of a fucking pond. The duckling is still sitting on his head, like he or she plans to set up home there and it’s so adorable Stiles thinks he actually coos out loud.

Still, Derek still doesn’t say anything. Not even when Stiles coos again, very, very deliberately. (And Scott said his middle name could never be Danger, pffft.) Stiles can’t actually guess what Derek is going to do but he doesn’t care. He looks a strange cross between wanting to murder someone - namely, Stiles - and a little kid who was told they couldn’t get a puppy only to get one on Christmas day anyway. 

Mostly, he just looks lost. And wet. Very, very wet. Somewhere out there, someone is playing It’s Raining Men and Stiles wants nothing more than to share this glorious moment with them. He’s just in the process of taking out his phone to at least snap a photo to send to the pack when - 

“Did you mean it?” Derek asks, and man, those water droplets just keep on running, don’t they. 

Stiles grins. “Did I mean for you to fall into a pond and adopt a new feathered friend? No but I think we can all agree-” 

Stiles.” 

Derek growls and it would be effective - at least in getting Stiles to help him out of the pond - if it wasn’t for the fact his ears were turning a little pink. A lot pink, actually and - 

Oh.

Sitting up, Stiles drags his butt over to the edge of the pond.

“Yeah,” he says. “I meant it. I mean, smiles can’t literally light up rooms, I know that, but when you smile it’s like…” He sighs and flaps his arms, suddenly nervous, hitting Derek in the process. The duckling practically glares at him and Stiles briefly wonders if he has competition here. 

Right. Better make this good then. He clears his throat. 

“It’s like, everything just makes sense for a little bit, you know? I look at you and it’s not that smiling is rare for you, at least not anymore, but it’s still pretty thrilling to see it and when you do I’m like, that’s some quality shit right there but then I get confused because it’s like, do I wanna punch it? Kiss it? Pet it? Who knows. Usually it depends on what you’re wearing.” 

Derek blinks and Stiles groans because, yeah, he just said that out loud. In real time. To Mr McGrumpy himself. Who is currently not reacting.

Great.

“Uh, I mean,” he attempts to correct himself but it’s too late. Derek is already slowly pulling him in and pressing his lips to his in what is the single most innocent, chaste kiss of Stiles’ life - because, you know, duckling and head movements - but somehow, it still manages to be perfect. 

“Nice,” Stiles whispers, after, waggling his eyebrows.

Derek snorts and kisses him again.

~

“Turn it off,” Derek whines, nuzzling further into Stiles’ neck. “This is why I leave my phone in the kitchen. Like we discussed.

Stiles tries to swat him, ends up kissing his temple. Sue him, he’s tired. “Says the person who can afford to leave their phone in the kitchen. We don’t all have supernatural hearing, asshole.”

Derek whines again. “You also have the worst taste in ringtones.”

Stiles gasps, suddenly sitting up. Well, he tries to. When your boyfriend is made of muscle and is half lying on top of you, it makes moving a lot more difficult. Not that Stiles is really complaining. Much. “I’ll have you know Bushes of Love is a Star Wars parody classic.”    

Derek rolls his eyes, Stiles can feel it, says, “just answer it, sweetums.” 

“Ugh,” Stiles grimaces, “I already told you I’m sorry for the pet-name thing. It was an accident!”

“Calling me your ‘slutty buddy’ in front of your dad was meant as a pet name?”

“It sounded better in my head!”  

Derek groans and wraps an “exasperated” arm around Stiles’ waist. Oh. So. Exasperated. Stiles grins. “Answer. Your. Phone.” 

Stiles finds his phone on the fifth try.

He has fifteen missed calls, all from Erica. Texts too. Every single one is a link to some article online, followed by a string of heart and eggplant emojis.   

Young Love and the Ugly Duckling’,” Stiles reads, clicking on the link. “Uhhh, Derek?” He prods him. 

What.” 

There’s a picture of us in the online Beacon Gazette,” looking into each other’s eyes, like a pair of love sick fools, Stiles wants to add because, wow, is he really that obvious when he looks at Derek? To be fair though, Derek isn’t much better and he is the one with an angry bird on his head.

He prods Derek again and again until he finally gives in, makes him look at the phone. 

“Huh,” he says, blinking at it. “Fred looks pretty pissed that I’m kissing you.” His face breaks out in a smug grin and Stiles rolls his eyes. Hard. 

“You are aware Fred is a duckling, right?” 

“Yes.” Derek grins harder, showing all his teeth, although his cheeks do colour slightly when he catches Stiles’ eye. 

Stiles sighs, totally not fond. “They couldn’t have come up with a better title, though?” he asks, brandishing his phone. “The Ugly Ducking, really?” 

Yeah,” Derek says, frowning. “I mean, I wouldn’t go as far as to call you ugly.” He laughs and Stiles smacks him across the chest with a loud, “hey!”

They both turn back to look at the picture. 

“We look so stupid,” Stiles whispers, shaking his head and biting his thumb. We fit, he thinks. We look like we fit. 

Leaning in, Derek smiles at him. “We do,” he agrees, burying his face back into the warmth of Stiles’ neck, muttering something about home and content and stupid Star Wars parodies.

Stiles snaps a selfie, captions it goals, and sends it to Erica. 

green-eyed monster

request: Could you do a Steve x reader where Billy hits on her and it forces Steve to admit his felling for the reader? Maybe some like cute fluff??

warning: some cursing

word count: 1,534

“Damn, look at the legs on that one.”

Steve couldn’t help but roll his eyes at the guy standing a few feet away from him. Billy Hargrove was the resident bad boy at Hawkins High School. He was obnoxious and a total asshole.

The two of them clashed on multiple occasions. It was clear that they would never ever be friends and Steve was perfectly okay with that. He didn’t want to associate himself with a guy like Billy.

“The things that I would do to that beauty.” Billy whistled making a couple of guys around him laugh.

Steve had been tying his shoes and trying to ignore the stupid shit coming from Billy’s mouth. He looked up to see the poor girl that had gotten Billy’s current attention.

He was shocked when he saw that it was you.

Keep reading

The King of Hawkins Goes Soft

Summary: The reader helps chaperone the winter formal, which leads to a very eventful night involving the King of Hawkins. 

Word Count: 2648

Song Pairing: Talking in your Sleep- the romantics https://youtu.be/PtxiZItyYh8

authors note: kinda spoilers for season two? This also doesn’t 100% follow the plot! I had SO much fun writing this!! Let me know what you think!! (single mom Steve is the best Steve)


You smiled to yourself watching the event unfold. Steve was giving some version of a pep talk to Dustin before the winter formal, and you laughed as you saw the deal sealed with a handshake.

Dustin walked by you with a huge grin, “Hey (y/n)!”. He saluted you, and you saluted back matching his grin. You winked, “Good luck tonight soldier”.

By now Steve had parked his car, and was resting against the hood. You walked over to him, “What are you doing here? Hate to break it to ya but you’re a little too old-”.

Steve crossed his arms over his chest, laughing while shaking his head. He smiled, “I gotta keep an eye on the little shits”.

Keep reading

regularghostly  asked:

Okay I know the popular scenario is "embarrassed mutual pining" (and trust me I love that) but what about this: soon after lance realizes his feelings for Keith he just fully embraces them and starts flirting with Keith almost 24/7 the way he does with random alien chick only more specific/flattering? And Keith's like "what did my gay ass do to deserve this" not knowing Lance is actually fully serious. Then Lance finally stops playing games and just asks him out and Keith's like U WERE SERIOUS?

NSDJFKHJGDNKSFHBKSMFJNGH HOW ABOUT THIS:


The time Lance realized that he was undeniably attracted to boys was directly correlated to Keith. It was weird because he could have sworn that he didn’t like Keith - that dense, unwillingly condescending and hotheaded idiot - until. Well. Until they were out after a mission mingling with the locals and Keith was just standing there, a drink in his hand, smiling softly while he talked to a young alien girl. 

It was a huge thing. Lance’s breath caught, his heart skipped a beat and all the blood in his body rushed to his cheeks. Keith hadn’t even done anything special, he really just stood there, a soft and attentive look on his stupidly perfect face while the sun drew patterns on his mullet. It should have been an everyday thing except it wasn’t because Lance really could count on one hand all the incidences where he wouldn’t have changed a thing about Keith (including his awful hairstyle).

So back then Lance did the most sensible thing he could have done: down his drink, cough like mad because wrong pipe and hightail the quiznak out of this situation before it could go completely wrong.

Also, a private freakout that lasted for like five minutes. And maybe some stress eating and extra face care but honestly, that wasn’t a bad thing. He was a paladin of Voltron, they were fighting pretty much 24/7, he was allowed to eat more of Hunk’s cookies if he wanted to. And his face certainly wouldn’t complain about testing out new products to help it stay smooth and soft.

Honestly, Lance thought he had handled it pretty well. No excessive drama and no insults hurled Keith’s way. He’d like to think that he matured through his time as a defender of the universe and could now totally deal with being attracted to boys and Keith. No problemo for Loverboy Lance. 

Except, of course, it was Keith. How did one woo Keith? He was pretty sure that Keith was gay, that wasn’t the problem, the problem was that Keith was dense as quiznak. 

Luckily, the response had been right in front of his eyes: Keith might have been dense but Keith has also spent nearly 2 years with him in space and knew what Lance’s flirting looked like. It was ideal, he just had to act like he always did, not even Keith could be stupid enough to misunderstand that. 

So when the opportunity arose, Lance didn’t hesitate to take it.

Keep reading

Obligated

Author: @knockknocksoosthere as a part of the Bound series with @kpopfanfictrash and @bread-jinie

Creative Content Contributor: @baebae-goodnight (her mood boards are amazing - like all the damn time)

Rating: M - explicit sex, cursing, drinking

Word Count: 6k

Summary:  Married by obligation, weighed down by circumstance. Except for those nights when you’re both drunk, falling into bed with one another and realizing you’re human. Occasionally this happens, occasionally you fuck. Until your life changes and you realize Namjoon, the very man you’re obligated to, might just be the very man that you crave.


Keep reading

Don’t Freak III

Originally posted by kings-of-my-heart

Steve Harrington x Reader

Part I | Part II | PART IV | PART V

Requests are OPEN


Mr. Crowley played lowly over the radio as Y/N drove Steve back to his car. She turned it on to fill the void of silence that enveloped the orange ’79 Jetta.

“I, uh, never took you for an Ozzy kinda girl,” Y/N raised an eyebrow, but didn’t take her eyes off the road.

“And what kinda girl do you take me for?” Steve sighed and rubbed the back of his neck.

Keep reading

Cracker Jacks and kiss cams

Summary: A story in which Bucky Barnes is very smitten, there’s a baseball game between the New York Mets and the Chicago Cubs, and Cracker Jacks are consumed.

Prompt: “I never thought you’d break my heart”
Characters: Bucky Barnes x Reader
Warnings: None. A bit of language maybe, but this is all just sappy fluff. 

A/N: This is my submission for @just-some-drabbles​ Rom-Com writing challenge, thanks for letting me join last minute and congratulations on reaching 4k! This story came about because I really love baseball, I really love the Chicago Cubs, and I really love Bucky Barnes, so all in all, it felt like a win-win.

MASTERLIST

(Bucky, opening Google search)

“how do you know if a woman is interested”
“when do you know if a woman wants to kiss you”
“how to tell a woman you love her without saying it”
“why do I suck at talking to her”
“oh my god why can’t I just ask her out” 

Keep reading

Tongue (Ethan)

⚤ - CONTAINS SMUT

You laid back on your shared bed with your boyfriend, Ethan, scanning aimlessly through your phone. When you had texted Ethan on your way home from the airport he had told you he was out filming something with Grayson.  Neither of you had seen each other in two weeks since you’d come back from your family vacation. You had originally planned to come home a day later but you wanted to surprise Ethan by choosing to come home a little earlier instead. You waited impatiently, tapping your fingers against your thigh until your heart began to pound in your chest at the sound of the apartment door opening and closing. Heavy footsteps shuffled in followed by two familiar voices.

“Dude I think she’s gonna hate it.” You heard Ethan’s laugh and it automatically made your heart sing even though you were questioning what the hell he’d gotten himself into now. You couldn’t leave Ethan or Grayson alone for more than five minutes before one of them was hurting themselves or doing something they’d likely regret later on.

“Maybe she’ll think it’s kind of kinky.” Grayson replied. You heard a smack followed by a loud “Ow!” You narrowed your eyes. What the hell were they talking about? You shook your head and contemplated coming out of the bedroom until you heard Ethan’s footsteps trudging down the hall.

“I’m taking a nap bro. I’m beat.”

The door swung open and Ethan stopped dead, stumbling backwards, clutching his chest with widened eyes.

Keep reading