i decided to not get her but now i want her oh my god

The Turkey Story

 So it’s 2001, and my family drives from fucking California and like three blizzards to get to Ohio for thanksgiving, becuase my grandparents are moving into a nursing home and it’s their last holiday in that house.  So its a bit bittersweet but ultimately a good thing.

Since it’s their last holiday there, the family pulls out all the stops when it comes to dinner, all the Russian desserts come out, as does the Lethal Bacon Mashed Potatoes and the horrible candied yams dish because not all expressions of love are good, even if they are sincere.  In the spirit of going all-out, Uncle Bobby smokes a Turkey.  

Uncle Bobby started cooking as a boy scout by tossing foil-wrapped potatoes into a campfire and has been addicted since, and now has a hand-made smokehouse in the backyard where he makes various cured meats and other delights.  He seasons the turkey in the traditional manner, but he and grandpa have a shared passion for a spaicier mesquite-style bird, so Bobby makes a Cornish Game Hen seasoned that way, for them.

Then Bobby has a Brilliant Idea.  He realizes that he can stuff the turkey (once it has been smoked) with regular stuffing, and there is still plenty of room for him to put the game hen inside THAT, and stuff the game hen becuase why not?  He confers with Mom, and she explains how to cut open the turkey so there’s  dramatic reveal as the stuffing and game hen come out.  It’s Genius.

Except, of course, that my Aunt Sue is attending, Uncle Cliff slouching after her.

So the day of the dinner, tensions are running a bit high, between the marathon cooking, the kids all being trapped indoors due to aforementioned blizzards, and Uncle Cliff deciding that the best way to amuse himself is by hiding from the adults in the basement, getting drunk and rambling about how various ethic groups were destroying America.  Being that I had close Muslim friends that were leaving the country becuase of 9/11, I was near tears from this nonsense and ready to fight a man roughly five times my size.  

Sue, for some reason, keeps coming down and defending him, or telling us we’re rotten children for ‘attacking’ him, becuase she Must Stand By Her Man, even if her man is a hefty bag of feces with an ugly mustache.

My sister eventually bolts upstairs to tattle and my grandfather limps down to the basement and brandishes his Hip-Bone Cane, hands rock-steady in spite of the Parkinson’s slowly taking over him.

“Firstly Cliff, It may not be my roof much longer but while you are under it you will be civil, or I’ll beat your skull in.  Also, dinner’s ready, everyone go wash up.”

We go upstairs and sit down, and do the traditional “Name one thing you’re thankful for” as the bread gets passed around the table, and things calm down a bit.  Bobby brings out the Turkey and everyone goes OOH becuase it’s really pretty, them Mom carves it open so that the stuffing spills out dramatically along with the game hen and there’s an appreciative gasp all around becuase it looks cool.

Only Sue KEEPS gasping, in utter horror, before getting up and clasping her hands to her face ala Edvard Munch and shrieks-

“OH MY GOD IT WAS PREGNANT!”

We all stare at Sue.  We all look back at the fully-dressed-cooked-and-stuffed birds that in no way had any internal organs in them or ever gave live birth. Then we all looked back at Sue, trying to figure out where to begin but since she’d been trying to justify Cliff’s behavior she was pretty much free-associating conspiracies and scandals now, and just kept going.

“IT WAS PREGNANT MY GOD WE’VE COMMITTED AN ABORTION WE’RE ALL GOING TO HELL FOR THIS, I’M SO SORRY JESUS-” She goes into full pearl-clutching gibbering horror at this point and falls back into her chair like it’s a Victorian fainting couch only it’s a shitty chair from the Eisenhower administration so it collapses and she slams into the floor, sobbing and kicking her feet like a toddler.

Everyone watched for a moment before my Mom sighs heavily and starts carving and serving the turkey while my grandmother mouths “she’s not coming back”.   

Cliff, reactions delayed by about six beers, finally notices his wife is on the floor and tries to pick her up, falls on his ass himself.  They are assisted by Dad, who is saintly patient man and less immune to this jacknapery at that point. I am stuffing dinner rolls into my face to keep from laughing at this grand spectacle and it’s not working.

“I CAN’T EAT IT, I REFUSE TO PARTAKE IN THIS BARBARISM-”  Sue begins but Dad puts on his best Kindly Father voice (he went to seminary school long enough to learn that before getting drafted but that’s another story) and assures Sue that she need not eat, or even be in the room if she wants.  She nods, placated by being the center of attention again, and Dad goes in for the kill.

“I wouldn’t want you to go hungry.  Can I make you some Eggs?”

“That would be lovely.” Said Sue, joke flying over her head like a boeing 747.  I recall watching my grandmother nearly choke to death on the green beans over that, and everyone pointedly trying to avoid talking about anything poultry-related while Sue sat there and ate the most ironic scrambled eggs in the history of mankind.

Shortly thereafter, Cliff threw up in the sink and they went home, and the party got underway properly, with Grandpa raising a toast to Mom and Uncle Bobby “For marrying well, for a change”

“Pregnant Turkey” has been an Ohioan thanksgiving staple since then.  I’ll see if I can hit Uncle Bobby up for instructions but if you decide to make it 1. you HAVE to shriek “OH MY GOD IT WAS PREGNANT” when you carve it open, or it’s not authentic and won’t taste as good 2. Share the pictures with me.


If you enjoyed this story, help me avoid unnecessary employment so I can tell more by donating to my Tip Jar

The real Taylor Swift:

April 23rd 2009-July 10th 2010: The Fearless Tour

The Fearless Tour. Taylor decided to walk through the crowds at her shows, greeting fans of all ages, genders and races because SHE wanted to meet the fans that had been supporting her and helping her reach where she is to this day. After each show, Taylor held a meet and greet called ‘The T-Party’. This was a room where fans could go to eat pizza and meet each other and get to know other people and then get to meet Taylor. Taylor would walk around stadiums and hide behind food bars and then surprise fans in the line. Each night she would walk a number of miles to meet as many people as she could.

February 9th 2011-March 18th 2012: The Speak Now Tour

Much like at the Fearless Tour, Taylor said she wanted to continue walking through the crowds during one of her songs at the Speak Now Tour. Taylor hugged as many people as she could and thanked them for coming. Sometimes Taylor would tell her security to move out of the way and to let her hug more people. Taylor continued her ‘T-Party’ meet and greet. Taylor’s team would walk to different areas of the stadium during the show and hand out free meet and greets to fans who had gone all-out; screaming and dancing the whole time and wearing bold and creative costumes/handmade posters.

September 8th 2012: Ronan

The lyrics to this song are based on a blog she read about a four-year-old boy, Ronan Thompson, who died from neuroblastoma in 2011.Taylor wrote the song by putting together quotes from blog creator Maya Thompson, Ronan’s mother. Thompson is credited as a co-writer of the song. Taylor first performed the song live for Stand Up to Cancer in September 2012, and has only performed it publicly one other time, at the Glendale, Arizona stop of The 1989 World Tour, at which Ronan’s mother was in the audience. All proceeds from sales of the single go to help fight cancer.

2014: 1989 Secret Sessions

In anticipation of the release of her album, 1989 on October 27, Taylor held a series of “1989 Secret Sessions” over the past few weeks at her various homes across America, where carefully-selected fans were told they were attending some sort of secret event, with no knowledge of what was in store for them. When fans arrived they were told to sit in a room together and wait. Taylor then jumped out and surprised them all and they all got to hear her new album before anyone else. Taylor baked cookies and other goods, fans got to meet Taylor’s cat, Olivia Benson Swift, and they danced together and each got to meet Taylor and just hang out.

May 5th 2015-December 12th 2015: The 1989 Tour

At each 1989 concert, before perfoming her song ‘clean’, Taylor gave a 3-4 minute inspirational speech, telling fans to love themselves. This is what Taylor said to the crowd of 60,000 at Hyde Park, London on June 272015: ‘There are people here from all over the world, so if you travelled to be here, thank you so much for coming. And, you know, looking out at you, thinking about the fact that we all come from different places, maybe we all have different accents, we have different hobbies, different backgrounds, whatever. But there’s one thing that we have in common that I know for sure. That thing is that when we feel a great amount of joy, or a great amount of pain, we turn to music. That’s why we’re all at Hyde Park tonight. From talking to you so much, and getting to know you, it’s never been more apparent to me how difficult it is to feel okay about yourself in 2015. Real talk. I mean, every single day we go online – and trust me, I love the internet, okay? Love it – but, every day we go online and we scroll through the highlight reel of other people’s awesome lives. But we don’t see the highlight reel of our awesome lives – all we see is the behind the scenes. We see every single moment, from when we wake up and we’re like “oh, God, not feeling my hair today. Not going to be a good day today for the hair”. We see our doubts, we see our fears, we see our concerns. You are the only one who is inside your brain feeling all of your anxieties and the voices who are telling you that you can’t be who you want to be, or that you’re not who you want to be, or that you want to be more like that other person over there. Let me tell you, people are mean to each other, but no voice is as mean as our own voices are to ourselves. Is it true or is it false? It’s true, right? Okay, so if there’s one thing that you come away from this night remembering, I want it to be this – every day when you look in the mirror, and your mind is telling you all the things you are not – if those things are that you’re not cool enough, you’re not pretty enough, you’re not popular enough, you’re not successful enough, you’re not special, you’re not wanted, you’re not unique – those are not the things you are not. Let me tell you the things you are not. Okay? You are not somebody else’s opinion. That’s what you’re not. You are not going nowhere just because you’re not where you want to be yet. You are not damaged goods just because you have made mistakes in your life. Those are the things you are not. Let me tell you the things that you are. Would you like to hear the things that you are? You are your own definition of beautiful, and worthwhile, and no one else’s definition. You are wiser, stronger, and smarter because you made mistakes in your life, not damaged. And lastly, London, England, you are someone who is probably standing here tonight going through your own battles, fighting your own ghosts, trying to cover your own scars, stressing about your own stresses. But, rather than wallowing in them, you got up, you put on an awesome outfit, and now we’re all standing here together having the best time of our lives at a concert on a Saturday night. I realise that it’s not about being perfect, it’s not about feeling perfect. I think that sometimes it’s just about getting on with things and realising that you’re happy today. That’s all that matters. I just want you to know that one thing I have learned in 25 years, and I’m still learning, is that if you get rained on, you walk through a bunch of storms, life is constantly coming at you – that doesn’t make you damaged. It makes you clean.’


May 5th 2015-December 12th 2015: The 1989 Tour (Loft 89)

At Taylor’s 1989 concerts, she held a meet and greet called ‘Loft 89′ where Taylor, again, could hang out with her fans and dance around with them. Taylor met lots of different people including children with disabilities and illnesses. Taylor made sure everyone had a great time and that everyone was included and treated equally.

Christmas 2014/2015: ‘Swiftmas’

Taylor Swift surprised 13-year-old fan Delaney Clements who was diagnosed with neuroblastoma at the age of seven. Delaney, who is a massive fan of the 26-year-old singer started a campaign to meet Taylor called #TaylorMeetDelaney and on Saturday (19th December) her wish came true. Taylor surprised the family by turning up unannounced and the afternoon was captured on Instagram and Facebook with Delaney and her Mum posting photos. Taylor became so into the idea of ‘Swiftmas’ that she also sent a number of other fans packages of merch and other little presents.

Award acceptance speeches

To any award acceptance speech, there is always something directed to Taylor’s fans. Taylor thanks her fans for everything because she knows that we are such a big part of her life and she wouldnt be where she is now without us.

A very important quote Taylor has said:

Long story short: Taylor is one of those few artists who does nothing but good for her fans and everyone around her yet she gets body shamed and name called everywhere. It really does break my heart. 

Taylor has been there for me through everything and I know that she always will be because she has never failed to make us all smile and to make us all feel better about ourselves, She has made me feel loved and wanted and she has introduced me to some of my bestest friends ever. To me, Taylor Swift is not just an artist, she’s my best friend.

@taylorswift

“Would you forget?“

No extended summary at the moment because everything below is a spoiler (!!), I’ll just say heartbreak and party. 

Warning: swearing & mild SPOILERS for Episode 2 (you’ve been warned!)
Steve Harrington x Reader
Gif credit:
(x) 

Keep reading

Draw me Like one of your French Girls... Part 1


This fic is dedicated to @yunyin who was a big part of bringing it about in the first place ^_^ 

(Warning some spoilers for ML Season 2- (Just the stuff we knew during the hiatus nothing important from the new episodes) 

“Listen furball, I am ten times as sexy as you are. That is just a fact. People would pay to see pictures of me.”

“People DO pay to see pictures of me,” Chat shot back.

“What?”

“Never mind,” he grumbled, “the point is that I am obviously the sexier of the two of us.”

“Guys, I know this is a slow patrol night but you are giving me a headache,” Rena Rougue sighed, dropping down onto the platform and sprawling onto her stomach against the cool metal of the tower.

“Wait,” Chat said with a terrifying grin, “Rena. My dear, darling, friend.”

“Oh this can’t end well.”

“You are a fox of impeccable taste are you not?”

“Maybe.”

“And you are an excellent judge of both male and female attractiveness as well, are you not?”

“Ladybug is the hottest out of all of you,” she smirked, not bothering to get up.

“Yes, that is a given, but the point is-”

“The point is that I could pull off sexy far better than this mangy stray,” Bee interrupted.

“Could not.”

“Will you two please just stop fighting, it’s been too hot to deal with this level of stupid,” Rena sighed.

“It’s not stupid, my honor is at stake!” Bee huffed. “If you want us to stop then tell him that I clearly would be better suited to being a sex icon than he would.”

“Foxy lady, please tell Bee that she is clearly pollinating the wrong flower.”

Rena groaned. Clearly there would be no reasoning with the two of them until this had been hashed out.

Keep reading

Never Her

Originally posted by inlovewithacriminals

Pairing: Loki x Reader (ft. the Avengers)

Content/Warnings: Angst; fluff

Words: 1544

A/N: So my Soulmate AU writing extravaganza begins with Loki, my MCU husband. I’ll probably end up writing these Soulmate AUs to be a little longer. This was a request for @bi-pie67 for 7. Your internal voice is the voice of your soulmate’s, rather than your own.


“Are you sure bringing Loki back to the Tower is a good idea?” You asked Thor dubiously. Steve seemed to reflect your sentiment, looking just as doubtful.

“I assure you, Loki will not get into any trouble,” Thor said. “He seems to have had a change of heart, and my father has ensured that he will be unable to use magic while here, at least until we are sure he is trustworthy.”

“I’m going to trust you on this, Point Break,” Tony said. “But if he destroys my tower again, I won’t be happy.”

“I am certain Loki will do no such thing,” Thor said. “I shall bring him here tomorrow, is that okay?” Everyone shrugged, still looking uneasy with the whole idea, though nobody raised any objection to that. “Marvelous! He shall be here tomorrow, then.”

Clint snorted. Out of everyone, he was, understandably, the least excited. “Can’t wait.”

You hadn’t actually been around for the whole Loki debacle, and admittedly you were a little curious to meet Thor’s brother. Some rather colorful tales had been told by the rest of the Avengers about Thor’s ‘crazy adopted brother’, but you wanted to find out for yourself. Plus, as someone who was still waiting to find their soulmate, there was always the little ‘what if it’s him’ in the back of your mind. Your soulmate, at least from what you always heard in your internal voice, sounded British… almost. You couldn’t put your finger on the accent, but it was similar to Thor’s.

“Up and at ‘em, sunshine!” Tony’s voice came over the speakers in the tower the following morning. “Good ol’ Reindeer Games will be here today, so we gotta make sure everyone is ready. You know, just in case he goes rabid reindeer on our asses. That’s all. Over and out.”

Groaning, you rolled out of bed, pulling on some presentable clothes and making sure you were ready to meet Thor and Loki. Thor had informed everyone that he would arrive around noon, giving everyone ample time to get ready. You made your way to the kitchen, grabbing a cup of coffee that Steve had made and sitting at the table.

“Sleep okay?” Steve asked, glancing up from his own cup.

“Yeah,”  You nodded. “Thanks for the coffee.”

“No problem. What do you think about Loki coming to stay here?” He asked you.

You shrugged. “Well, I’ve never met the guy, so it’s hard to say. Wary, but curious.”

“All I can say is, don’t get your hopes up too high,” He said with a snort. “I don’t trust the guy.”

“Guess we’ll have to find out,” You said.

Keep reading

[All of this happened because I wanted to write something about Stiles not being able to sleep without his pillow. Spoiler alert: his pillow is Derek.]

-

Derek tries not to look too hurt when Stiles says he’s going back to Washington, but when the Sheriff claps his back and Scott offers him a friendly hug, he knows he failed. But after everything, after the other night - it just doesn’t feel fair.

-

“It was a nice road trip, wasn’t it?” Stiles had said after they’ve won, after everything was done, their friends were alive and fine and Derek finally got his loft back. “I mean, we had some fun, right?”

Derek smiled without looking away from the flowers the Sheriff got him as a housewarming gift. “Yeah.” He answered, finally turning around. “It was nice to spend time with you.” It was more than nice and he cursed himself for not being able to say it, still, after everything, after the nights spent driving and talking and fucking in deserted roads.

“Yeah.” Stiles agreed easily. He was the one who started it after all, always showing up to save Derek - despite Derek saving him back plenty of times - always being there, trusting him, smiling and laughing like Derek makes him happy. “What will you do now that you’re a free man again?”

Derek shrugged. “I always wanted to start a farm, maybe raise some sheep?” When Stiles blinked at him, surprised, Derek let out a snort.

“Fuck you, I almost believed it!” Stiles said, punching his shoulder.

“You’re ridiculous.” Derek shook his head, still smiling. 

You’re ridiculous.” Stiles stressed, his hand still on Derek’s shoulder, touching, teasing. “I’m -“ Derek didn’t let him finish then, turning around and just pressing their lips together.

He didn’t want to listen then - and in hindsight maybe he should’ve - but without the haste, the guilt of having a nice time whilst their friends could be dying, Derek couldn’t wait, he just wanted to worship Stiles’ body, just wanted to kiss all the places he couldn’t reach before when they were squeezed in the backseat of Stiles’ car. 

And so he did, he made Stiles moan his name the entire night and he moaned Stiles’ own just as louder. Just to have his heart crushed the morning after.

-

“I’m gonna miss you.” Stiles says, his Jeep packed and ready to go. To leave everything behind.

It’s unfair, Derek knows. Stiles didn’t make promises and neither did he, but he can’t help how he feels. He understands Stiles doesn’t want to be in Beacon Hills anymore and that’s his choice, but Derek made his own and he’s tired of running away.

He’s never felt closer to his family than when he’s here, he’s already lost enough and he doesn’t want to lose his home. But somehow, as Stiles drives away, he feels like he just did.

-

I miss you, Derek thinks every day, staring at the black screen of his phone and wondering if he should actually write those words and send them to Stiles. He decides against it and despite the fact he was joking before, on the third day after Stiles left, Derek buys a farm.

He tells Lydia first during lunch at her favorite restaurant - she was adamant they had to become best friends and Derek enjoys her company so he lets it happen easily - and she tells him he’s not allowed to wear plaid around her. Then he tells Scott and two days later, he shows up at Derek’s front door with all kinds of seeds - “We need pumpkins for Halloween, Derek. Make it happen!”.

It’s something to do with his hands, something to work on. Create life, instead of ending them, build things, instead of destroying. He feels good, better and healing. Cora says he’s calmer now and Derek smiles, despite knowing she won’t be able to see him, and tells her he is.

Some days Stiles texts him, others he doesn’t. Derek reads the ones he has every night before going to bed, but he never answers them.

Keep reading

Are You Going To Be An Overprotective Baby Brother?

Pairing: Steve x Henderson!reader 

Request:  Could you do a Steve Harrington imagine of being Dustin’s older sister and prior to the monsters you ignored Steve even though he always tried to flirt because you’re pretty and smart but you’re also snarky and friends with Nancy and Jonathan and BFFs with Dustin and all his friends love you and post monsters with Dustin and Steve’s bromance you start to be friends with him and Dustin notices he likes you and gives Steve a overprotective baby brother speech? You can decide if he makes a move  

Warnings: fluff, a few swear words

A/N: Omg I love this prompt so much! Also, I have a requested El x reader coming out sometime in the next few days :)

Keep reading

You Bet

Pairing: Steve Harrington x Henderson!reader

Request(s): 

  • Steve Harrington x Henderson!Reader … Honestly IDK what you wright. I am just a sucker for Steve The Mom™ and his bromance with Dustin. Would love for Dustin to have a sister or cousin or something and the Reader getting roped into Dart shenanigans. PLZ PLZ PLZ PLZ PLZ
  • Can you do an imagine with Steve Harrington, were the reader is really badass, and kills one of the demogorgons, and steve starts liking her?

Word Count: 3038 (suuuper long I kinda hate it)

Song: No song for this I kinda just blasted the whole soundtrack for two days straight

Summary: Kinda exactly what the requests say but if you didn’t read it it’s essentially Steve being Mom Of The Year and you being Dustin’s badass older sister that Steve falls for after seeing her in action while fighting the demodogs.

Warning(s): Violence, swearing, I think that’s it????

Author’s Note: I’ll do a smutty part two if y’all want it like I’ll probs do it anyway let’s be for real

Keep reading

Free The Animal

Word Count: 6k

Genre: Smut, Angst (will I ever stop being emo?)

Author’s Note: You ever forget that you’re a fanfic writer then you write a fic so bad you remember how much of a hack you are? Yeah welcome to my fic :’D

dom!jungkook- fuckboi!jungkook- fuckbuddy relationship- dirty talk- thigh riding mention because damn even I am not immune to his thighs- inspired by Sia’s song and part of the song drabble game. You can find links to the rest of them on my masterlist

Loving You To Death (Sequel)

There he was with his hands up some girl’s skirt, grinding on her like he was trying to fuck her through their clothes, the fucking pig. You huff and turn to your friend who gives you an exasperated look, “___, just go and grab him by the dick and tell him he can’t fucking do that.”

“He can do whatever the fuck he wants to do, even if that is a bleach blonde bitch with a tan that makes her look like an Oompa Loompa.” That was pretty low, you admit. It wasn’t the girl’s fault that Jungkook had chosen her for the night. But seriously, there was a limit to tanning, this was just harmful to the eyes.

“No, he can’t because you’re together.” Your friend, Hwasa, sounds pretty fed up with you.

“No, we’re not. We’re just fuck buddies and we agreed that we’re not exclusive right from the start.” Why wasn’t she understanding this? You’d explained it to her a thousand times.

“I don’t care what bullshit you told each other. All I care about is what I see, and that is two idiots constantly doing all they can to piss each other off because they can’t communicate like adults.”

“What are you even talking about? Jungkook is not trying to piss me off. He’s just being himself. Which is admittedly annoying in and of itself but you know…”

“Then why did he do nothing the past three days but play video games while you were off galavanting with Jin, only to start making out with some girl the minute you make an appearance?”

“He did?” You asked surprised, only to check yourself back and shrug it off. “I don’t know, he must have just not felt like it.”

“Oh my god, save me from these two idiots.” Hwasa cries then takes you by the shoulder and starts shaking you, “He’s fucking jealous because you took Jin to meet your family and not him so he’s trying to piss you off. Why? Because he likes you. And you’re pissed off. Why? Because you like him. Now can you get that through your thick skull or do I have to beat it into you?”

Keep reading

Mothers’ Weekend

Hello there! Long time, no see (my bad I know) but, here: an Alicia Zimmermann-centric piece as she goes to Parents’ Weekend during Jack’s freshmen year. [focus on Alicia, Jack, and Shitty] 6k


Somewhere, deep in her heart, Alicia Zimmermann knows she is a bad mother.

It started out as a worry, as maybe it does for all new mothers, that she will be a bad mother. That she won’t know what to do with a baby or a toddler that one day she will accidentally drop him or forget to feed him or feed him something he is actually allergic to or maybe she’ll scar him emotionally somehow and she worried but she survived his childhood okay. And then, after he was five or six, she stopped worrying about it. She thought she was doing pretty good. Jack had hockey and loved hockey and, sure, they didn’t have deep emotional talks but she didn’t exactly have any basis of comparison. Television families told her she was doing okay. No teenage boy wanted to have deep talks with his mother. And, look, if Jack didn’t talk to her all that much as he turned 12 and then 13, at least he was still talking to his father. Mostly still about hockey but she… she thought that had counted. Hockey was like French, to her. Another language she could understand but couldn’t quite speak. But Bob could. He was on top of it. Jack was taken care of.

She loved Jack. That was never the problem. The problem was that her love wasn’t enough. It didn’t matter. It didn’t alert her to any of the facts and maybe it even blinded her– She loved her son and her son loved hockey and so she loved hockey too. She loved her son and then her son seemed to love a boy named Kent and they never talked about it but she let Kent come over all the time and she figured they would discuss it at some point. She just… assumed everything was okay. Even after he was diagnosed with the anxiety disorder and given pills. It was always… well, that was a little problem but it’s handled and under control and everything is okay now.

See. Bad mother.

A good mother would have known somehow.

A good mother would have pushed and prodded or sensed it without even having to be told.

A good mother would have paid attention to how hard Jack was on himself. A good mother would have made sure her son had interests outside of hockey. A good mother would have known that Jack’s long silences after losses weren’t normal. A good mother would have preached balance and fostered friendships with different types of people and stopped the fucking hockey.

She didn’t though. Stop the hockey. No, not Alicia Zimmermann. She encouraged it. She went to the games and cheered the loudest and she even loved it a little bit because she thought it brought him joy, like his father. She bought into the vision: Jack playing hockey like Bob, the Zimmermann legacy continued throughout the ages…

God, she even used to tease Jack about how it took his father three years to win a Cup and she was sure Jack could manage it faster than his old man.

A good mother wouldn’t have done that. So, see, she’s always been a bad mother. Even now, now that she’s almost lost him, now that she’s promised to do better, now that she’s finally read all the books and online articles about anxiety and pressure and the danger of sports and hockey culture… now she’s still just as bad. Just for different reasons.

Now she is a bad mother because it’s Saturday afternoon and he’s been at Samwell for almost three months and she does not feel like mothers are supposed to feel in this moment.

She glances around. At the sea of other mothers and fathers crammed onto Samwell’s campus for Parents’ Weekend. They are not nervous. They are excited. Happy. Enthusiastic. Overjoyed to see the teenager they had left just a couple months ago again. To her right is a father almost (but not quite) breaking into a run to give his son a hug. To her left, a mother has burst into tears. Happy tears.

And then there’s her. She’s not excited to see Jack. Well, no. No, it’s not that she’s not excited. She is. She is. (She is. She repeats it once more just to remind herself). She is just…

She is nervous too. More nervous than she is excited.

Keep reading

steve harrington x reader • cold coffee

Summary: Waking up next to Steve is something that you can get used to.

Word Count: 1600+

Warnings: tooth rotting fluff, some language.

Notes: I started writing something angsty and got sad so I wrote this to make myself feel better. Idk man, idk. It got longer than I wanted?? and off topic?? I just love these kids and i love Steve Harrington.

Requests are OPEN!

Originally posted by cameronxboyce

Dating Steve Harrington came with a lot of surprises. The whole Upside Down thing, oddly enough, wasn’t one of them; you’d stumbled into that whole mess before you’d even met him, thanks to your insatiable curiosity and tendency to nose around places you really had no business being in. No, the oddities that Steve brought to your life were much more mundane, and all the more surprising for that.

Keep reading

Guys My Age (3)

Pairing: Bucky X Reader

Words: 4k

Warnings: Lap dance to rough Smut. NSFW gifs.

Anon asked “Can you please do a part 3 to ‘guys my age’ were Bucky asks reader for another lap dance”

A/N: The fic that started it all. I’m so glad people liked it as much as I enjoyed writing it. Let me know if you want to be tagged. Also, dominant/jealous Bucky is just wow. Let me know if you want to be tagged HERE or HERE. Go away kids! And please use protection y’all.

Part 1 Part 2

Keep reading

“Hey, Barold?” 

“Yes, dear?”

“Are you dead?”

Barry’s head pokes into the dining room table, the Neverwinter Times folded into his hands. He looks down at himself, pokes his own nose. “I don’t think so? I don’t look dead.”

Lup looks him up and down, then says, “Yep, you really don’t.”

“Why?”

In response, Lup takes the package she’s been holding, grabs it by the ends, and turns it on its head. Letters - bundled into packs bound with black ropes, spare ones scratched on torn napkins, envelopes-within-envelopes written in deep dark ink - spill all over the table.

“What are these?”

“Consolation letters,” Lup says, grinning. She plucks the first one off the table, slits it with a brightly-painted red nail, and begins to read. “‘Dear Lup Taaco, my cult and I would like to express our condolences for your loss.’ Aww, that’s so sweet, they’re cult-bonding.”

Barry narrows his eyes. “Is that a necromantic cult or a religious one?”

“Dunno.” She tosses it aside, picks up another one. “‘Dear IPRE, sorry for your loss. We hope Barry feels better soon. We know most people don’t feel better after being dead but he’s done it before.’”

Barry drifts forward, looking at the stack in apprehension and slight awe. He picks one up at random, skims it, and turns white. “Why do these people think I’m dead?”

“Don’t know, but there’s definitely a consensus, babe,” Lup says. “Aww, someone sent a bunch of dead flowers! I’ll pass them onto Merle.”

“Lup, no, this is weird. This - this is weird.”

“Yeah, for sure,” she says, leafing through the next letters. The mound grows intimidatingly the more Barry looks at it. “What did you do?”

“I - I don’t know.”

“Huh. Maybe someone started a dumb rumor. You never know the kinda shit floating around Faerun these days.”

True? Okay. Okay, no, this is just another mystery. Maybe there are clues in the truly preposterous number of letters sitting on the table. Carefully, Barry picks the first one up, a letter wrapped in a satin ribbon and addressed in dark ink so black it almost looks tar. He tears it open gently and sets the envelope aside, then begins to read.

Dear Miss Lup,

I’m really really sorry your husband is dead. I want you to know that my mom and my dad love him too and that if you ever need someone to talk to because death is a really really bad thing then you can send us a letter any time. I’d give you my mom’s frequency but I don’t know it.

Love,

Carnila

Below is an address. It’s from the far east, a remote village that Barry only knows because he passed through there while hunting for Lup a couple of years into his search.

He’s not freaking out so much as very, very confused. He’s certain he’s alive. Pulse beating in his throat and everything. So why does everyone think he’s dead?

He goes through a couple more without finding any clues. Most are of the same vein - sorry for your loss, hope you’re doing better. A couple recommend Lup some therapists in Neverwinter. Two cite him as his inspiration for practicing necromancy. He’s gonna need to pay those fans a personal visit. Probably with his scythe.

“Barry?” Lup says after a little while. She’s set the letters down and is now looking at him strangely.

He opens another one. This one’s written in blue ink. All the others have been black. Really goes to show what kind of person picked Barold J. Bluejeans, lich and necromancer-turned-reaper extraordinaire, as their favorite of the seven birds. “Yes, dear?”

“When you died, you picked up your bodies, right?”

Barry freezes. He thinks back to those ten years on his own, dying repeatedly. He’d had a process - he’d freak out, flicker a little bit, and pull himself together - with admirable speed and courage, of course. Then he’d grab his jeans (can’t leave those behind), a couple hairs, a bunch of blood (which wasn’t typically too hard to collect), the coin, some supplies, and take off for Wave Echo Cave.

He’d leave the body, though. He didn’t need it.

“Barold J. Bluejeans,” she snaps, setting down her letter with a thwack on the table. “Did you leave your corpses strewn all around this continent?”

“I only needed a little blood to make a new body!” he yelps. “I was a lich, it wasn’t like I could pick up my body and carry it with me!”

“You managed to keep the same clothes for ten years!”

“I’ve had these jeans for a hundred years, they’re precious to me!”

“That’s fair,” Lup says, grinning too widely to be angry. “So you’re telling me, these people stumbled across your dead body and thought it was you?”

“Probably,” he replies sheepishly. “I mean, in my defense, I didn’t think anyone would find it. I kinda fell off a mountain range.”

“And you didn’t go collect them when you got an actual body?” she asks, gesturing toward him.

“I was a little busy creating your body.”

Lup sighs, exasperated. She throws an envelope at him. It drifts unimpressively down to the table. “This is it, Barold. This is what you get when you don’t show up at press conferences ever. People start to think you’re literally dead.”

“I hate them,” he mumbles. “Too many spotlights and reporters and questions. I get all sweaty.”

“You’re one of the seven birds, babe. People want to know your story.”

“They already do, sweetheart.”

“Yeah, but they want to hear it from you.” She glances over her shoulder at the Taako Time™ calendar hanging on their wall and grins. “Babe, there’s one tomorrow and you’re going.”

“I don’t wanna,” he whines. “Lup, they…they suck. All the reporters and the microphones and the spotlights….”

“No arguments, dear,” Lup says, standing and crossing her arms over his head to rest her cheek on his hair. “Lucretia hates them too and she goes.”

“She was the Director of the Bureau of Balance, she’s good at that shit now,” Barry grumbles. “Besides, Davenport doesn’t have to answer questions.”

“Davenport’s at sea, babe. Getting to interview him is like finding a Shiny.”

Barry groans, tugs on a strand of Lup’s hair. It’s dyed red toward the ends. “If you loved me you wouldn’t make me go.”

“I love you,” Lup affirms, “so I’m making you go.”

“Can I at least - ”

“No, you can’t wear your tuxedo T-shirt. You have to wear the sweater vest I bought you.”

Barry slumps his head toward the table. Lup slides down his neck to rest her chin on his shoulder. “Cycle forty or sixty-eight,” he asks, words muffled by the table.

“Forty,” she decides. “I won’t make you do sequins.”

“Thank the Queen.” He straightens. There’s ink on his forehead. Lup laughs, then licks a thumb and wipes it away. “Gross.”

The letters flare in the corner of his vision. Sighing, Barry tugs Lup onto his lap. She sits with a laugh, gleeful and teasing, and reaches reaching for a letter of her own. Leaning her temple against his, she slices open another letter, and begins to read.

“Wow, babe,” she says after a couple minutes. “You’re really an inspiration for some up-and-coming dark magic babies.”

“I know,” he sighs. She chuckles and ruffles his hair affectionately. “I’m gonna have to go talk to them.”

Lup’s counterproposal is cut off by her Stone of Farspeech buzzing against her collarbone. She picks up without looking and says “Heyo, Blupjeans household, whaddya want?”

Barold J. Bluejeans!” screeches her brother’s voice through the receiver. Barry jumps. “You wanna explain to me why my dining table is fuckin’ swamped with condolence letters?!

Lup and Barry turn to stare at each other in horror. Then, right on cue, Barry’s Stone rings. He checks it. It’s Magnus’s signal. They stare at it.

“Oh Gods,” Lup groans, and picks up.

Barry? Barry, are you okay?” comes Magnus’s voice. There are a couple of dogs barking in the background, as there always are when Magnus calls. “I heard you were dead, I know it sucks, like, serious ass to be without a body, I wanted to check in, and also tell you that I’ve got a ticket for Neverwinter on hold if you need me down there - ” he says.

Lup and Barry exchange glances. Barry begins to laugh.

the bet || fuckboi!peter parker x reader

 oi, I don’t want to make this too long but…. IM BACK smh I’ve been so m.i.a. but that’s literally because I’ve been so busy and have bad writer’s block. Smh this probably ain’t even gon be good. But like I worked hard on it to have meaning and stuff and I rlly hope you guys enjoy it. I just want you guys to get straight to the story because you’ve waited so long for it and I’ve been teasing it sm smh. Just read it hope you enjoy muthertruckers😬

tags : @running-outta-time @i-just-wanna-run-hell @munalisax @themyscirahs @sammie-blogs @geeksareunique @violentlybarnes @geeksareunique

words : 11,197

warnings : fuckboi!peter parker, mild cussing, various mentions of sex, angst, ned needs a hug, peter needs a hug, you need a hug, everyone needs a hug

Masterlist

——————–

Originally posted by peter-and-mj


”I bet you your whole Goddamn rep that you couldn’t get weird ass mcgee over there to sleep with you; you know, take her v-card. Before. We. Graduate.”

The words spoken smugly by one of Peter’s multiple friends at the lunch table caught his attention as quick as you could say, “Spider,” The statement challenged him, making him smirk at the smug boy before looking over his shoulder, almost savagely, at the fifteen year old girl huddled in her own little corner of a table in the back, her face morphing as she read through numerous pages of the thick book she held in her hands.

Watching the scene, Peter laughed and shook his head before turning back the group at his table, them looking deeply invested as to what would happen next, he spoke lowly, “Watch me.”

Keep reading

anonymous asked:

who is lady ragnell?

Called Dame Ragnelle in the source material (”The Wedding of Sir Gawain and Dame Ragnelle”), a fun fairy-tale-ish bit of Arthuriana and one I read in retold form as a kid and have loved ever since.

So King Arthur kills a deer while out hunting in a land with strong mystical connections, as one does when one is a legendary king. A knight appears, by the name of Sir Gromer, and objects to this life choice. He tells Arthur that in a year’s time, he has to return to the same spot with an answer to the following question:

What is it that women most want?

If Arthur doesn’t have an answer–the right one, mind you–Sir Gromer will cut his head off.

And Arthur, because he’s an honorable fellow and it never occurs to him to say “fuck that, peace out, I’m the king of the land and if you want my head you can come fetch me,” instead says “oh shit” and goes home, where he kind of broods about it.

Into this story walks Sir Gawain–he of The Green Knight fame, one of Arthur’s core knights in the legend (and Arthur’s nephew in many versions of the tales)–and he asks Arthur why he’s so sad.

Arthur tells him, and Gawain sensibly suggests traveling around asking various women what they desire most, which is at least slightly more useful than sitting around brooding, so they do it! The survey results, as one might imagine, are inconclusive when they compare notes, because even a millennium ago dudes didn’t seem to realize that women are distinct human beings with different desires and ambitions even when those dudes are a king and a knight who are legends for their nobility BUT WHATEVER.

Anyway, they’re fucked.

And when Arthur rides out into the woods to brood about this, into the story walks Dame Ragnelle, The Ugliest Lady Arthur Has Ever Seen. (In other versions of the tale, because there are non-Arthurian versions, she’s called The Loathly Lady.)

She tells him she has an answer to his riddle, but she’ll only give it to him if Sir Gawain consents to marry her.

Arthur is feeling pretty desperate, so he brings it up to Gawain, hating to ask it of him, but knowing Gawain is loyal and will do it. Gawain says yes, even when Arthur says “seriously, buddy, when I say The Ugliest I mean it,” so when he goes out to meet Sir Gromer and Ragnelle stops him on the way and says he’s in trouble unless he tells her Gawain is hers to marry. Arthur feels pretty shitty about it, but Gawain said yes, so he relays this answer, to Ragnelle, and she gives him an answer:

Choice. Women want the power to make choices about their own lives and selves.

It’s better than any other answer the survey returned, so Arthur relays it to Sir Gromer, who says “god damn it, my sister gave you that answer but it’s legit so I guess you keep your head THIS TIME” and lets him go free.

Arthur goes back to the palace, and there’s much rejoicing, but Arthur isn’t rejoicing too much, because now his nephew has to marry The Loathly Lady, who shows up and insists on the bargain being met.

Gawain, being a stand-up guy, marries her, and after their wedding feast, where Arthur’s whole court pretty much stares at her very rudely, takes her back to their chambers, where he vows to himself to treat her as if she were desirable, which … go you, buddy? I guess? And when he looks up at her after deciding that, suddenly he’s looking at the most beautiful woman he’s ever seen.

Ragnelle explains she was cursed to wear that form all the time until a good knight would marry her, but that now, for half the day, she can be beautiful. She puts the choice to him: would he have her beautiful at night, in their bed, and have the court make a mockery of their marriage by day? Or would he have her beautiful by day, when everyone could applaud him for breaking her curse, and ugly at night?

We all know the answer, of course, and so did Gawain: he told her, in the end, that it’s her life, her self, and she should be able to make that choice for herself, not him.

Which, of course, in the way of fairy tales, is what breaks the spell, so she can be her beautiful self all the time.

And they all lived as happily as anyone ever manages in Arthurian legend.

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?“

Owe Me

Originally posted by hologramarcadeblaze

Prompt: “You hit me in the face, I think you owe me at least a study date.”

Pairing: Steve x Reader

Warnings: some sexual content (but obviously nothing far, i don’t write smut)

A/N: I know I don’t write for Stranger Things but LISTEN okay? I needed to write for this trash boy because despite being an actual douche I love him (character development tho) and it’s my blog, so imma write for him. And maybe if this gets enough love i’ll add Stranger Things to my fandom list once requests are back open! :)


“There’s no way you’re gonna be able to hit it.”

“Really?” You smirked, watching as your long time friend shook her head. Staring at the far distance in front of you, you narrowed your eyes in thought. You’re no athlete but you’re pretty sure, given enough force, you could hit your target. Which just so happened to be the trash can a whiles away from you. “Because I think i’m gonna.”

“I highly doubt you’re gonna hit it, Y/N.” Your friend, Jenna, stressed. “Remember that one time in gym you completely missed passing the ball to me, and- I was right in front of you!” 

“That was one time!” You pouted, gripping the football in your hands with a tight grip. You’re sure you could hit it. You were determined to hit it. “Let’s make a bet, huh? If I hit it, you owe me dinner tonight and if I don’t, i’ll pay.”

Jenna paused, biting her lip in thought; you knew she’d take the bet. She loved food (just as you did) and there was no way she was gonna pass up an opportunity for free food, especially since she was so convinced you’d miss it. “Deal.” She nodded and a cocky grin spread over your lips. Looking away from your friend, you pushed your left leg back slightly, bending down and raising your hand with prestige focus. 

Jenna let out a loud chuckle from behind you, you were taking this way too seriously.

Your tongue jutted out slightly in thought, staring at your intended target as you mentally counted down from three. Once you hit one, you reeled your arm and shot it forward, the football slipping from your fingers and flying before you. It was like time slowed down, that’s how serious this bet was to you. But with a disappointed gaze you watched the ball curve in the other direction you wanted it to go.

“Hah!” 

Just as you were ready to accept your defeat, something else caught your attention. There, right where your ball was headed, was Steve Harrington. “Oh fuck.” And just as you finished cursing, you watched the football smack against the boys head, the offended object tilting to the left from impact as his friend, Tommy, jumped away in shock. 

“Oh my god.”

“Fuck.” You repeated, running back towards Jenna. “Fuck, i’m so screwed.”

Jenna grasped your hand in surprise; “did you just hit Steve Harrington in the head with a football?”

Steve stood up from his seat on the bleachers, grasping his head in pain and your sure you heard him yelling out a slue of curses. His eyes darted around, finding the football and picking up the now dangerous weapon. You watched Steve’s eyes fall on you, and you suddenly felt stuck as you met his eyes across the field.

“You just hit Steve Harrington with a football.” Jenna clarified, watching the entire thing go down.

Steve suddenly smirked and you panicked, taking a step back. “Go!” You called, pulling Jenna along with you as you turned the other way and ran off in a hurry. Though, while you were more than concerned, Jenna found this highly amusing.

“She says sorry!” Jenna called, waving at Steve.

“Shut the hell up, Jenna!”

“Sorry,” she laughed, finally catching up with your speed. “But hey, at least you’re buying dinner.”


With a sigh, you clicked open your locker. It had been an increasingly long and exhausting day; especially since you spent the entire day trying to avoid Steve. It was only the next day, and you knew Steve, he’s not one to forget something like hitting him in the head with a goddamn football. 

It wasn’t like you were scared of him, on the contrary you’re almost positive you could whoop his ass if needed. It was more that you didn’t know what he was going to do, would he be mad? Would he and his friends try to pull something? You weren’t sure, Steve Harrington was a complete mystery to you and the only time you’ve ever spoken to him was that one time for a school project, two years ago.

But it was the end of the day, meaning you could go home and not worry about it until tom-

“Y/N-”

Your locker slammed shut before your eyes, you jumping back from surprise. Looking over to see who had just rudely shut your locker, you found just the person you’ve been trying to avoid all day. “Steve.”

“It’s nice to see you.” He smirked, setting himself against the locker next to yours and crossing his arms across his chest. Holding your hand against your chest, you tried to calm yourself down from the scare he’d given you, clutching with your other hand the strap of your bag. “You seem to be in a hurry.”

You decided to just get it over with, he was here and there’s no way you can avoid what’d happened anymore. “Look,” you sighed. “Steve i’m sorry I hit you, Jenna and I were just having some fun. I didn’t mean to make you mad or-”

“You think i’m mad?” Steve asked, his smirk faltering slightly.

You furrowed your brows, tilting your head in confusion. “Yeah? I mean why else would you…?”

“I don’t care about that.” Steve waved off, standing up straight and shoving his hands into his pockets. “I came here to ask you if you’d like to go on a date sometime.”

You fumbled for a response, his words the opposite of what you’d ever expect. You were not Steve’s type, or at least you hadn’t thought you were. You weren’t pretty like Nancy or sassy like Carol; you didn’t have spunk like half of the girls Steve hung out with or dress up. Instead you’d rather wear skinny jeans and a t-shirt, stick to your books and be on with your day.

So after sputtering like an idiot, you came out with a; “what?”

“A date. You and me.” Steve gestured to himself then you, and left his hand there.

“A date?” You repeated in a questioning tone. “With me?”

“That is what I said.”

“Are you serious? Why would you want to go on a date with me?” You paused, looking up to glare at him. “Why would I want to go on a date with you?” Steve didn’t seem to have a response to that and just as your confusion faded away, you sighed, shaking your head. “I’ve heard of your reputation Steve, i’m not willing to be fling or even- do any of that. I’m sorry, but no.”

You moved to walk away, desperate to find Jenna and tell her all about this crazy experience but instead a hand caught yours. Then you were being tugged the other way, towards Steve and your back was pressed against the locker. You froze, staring up at the boy that suddenly seemed a whole lot taller then he did a second ago. You were so glad it was the end of the day, as everyone was mainly go and not able to watch what was happening.

“A study date then.” Steve smirked, staring down at you with a piercing gaze. You felt your breath get caught in your throat, the close proximity pulling you away from rational thinking. “You hit me in the face, I think you owe me at least a study date.”

Pause. “O-Okay.”

“Great.” Steve smiled, pushing off the locker and finally creating some distance between the two of you. As he stood before you, you felt like you were finally able to breathe. Then he stepped forward, slipping a piece of paper into your palm. “Meet me there tomorrow after school.”

The second he was gone, you let out a heavy breath. Why the hell had you said yes?


The next day you found yourself walking the path to Steve’s house. He lived farther away then you’d known and seemed to be a singular house hidden away from many others, making you regret your decision even further.

You hadn’t originally planned to go but Jenna had convinced you, somehow. “When do girls like us ever get asked out by Steve Harrington?!”

“What does it even matter?” You had muttered, “we don’t need guys like Steve.”

“True,” Jenna had complied before a huge grin spread over her lips. “But do it for me?”

“Fine.”

And that’s how you found yourself now. Taking a deep breath, you stared up at the gate before you, your heart pounding rapidly against your chest. You didn’t even know what you were thinking, you should just turn back. Yeah? That would be best. You didn’t know who you were trying to impress or even why you were so nervous, you’d never been like this before; so nervous over a stupid boy. But… this was Steve and you, that just didn’t even make sense

Just as you moved to walk away the gate creaked open; “Y/N!” Steve exclaimed, and reluctantly you turned to face him. “Glad you could make it.”

“You invited me.” You grumbled, walking through the gate as he opened it for you. Your eyes immediately fell on the pool that seemed to glitter before your eyes; “you have a pool?!”

Steve made his way next to you, his hands falling on top of his hips. “Yeah.” He smiled, huffing in enjoyment. You coughed lightly, shaking your head; this was stupid. Stop being so nervous. Turning to Steve, you raised an eyebrow expectantly, “so what did you need help studying for?”

“Oh, nothing.”

“What?”

“What do you mean what? What else was I suppose to say to you to convince you to go out with me?” Steve huffed, furrowing his brows as if you were the crazy one. You sighed heavily, glancing at the closed gate and towards the house; no lights were on.

“Where are your parents?”

“Out.”

You felt your heart drop, everything was too suspicious. There was no way Steve had just invited you to hang out. He’d lied and his parents weren’t home, not to mention he lived at least a few decent miles away for anyone to care. You’d been played. “I’m going.” You suddenly announced, turning towards to gate in a rush.

“Woah, wait, what?” Steve appeared before you before you even reached the gate, holding his hands by his side in surprise. He genuinely looked shocked and concerned, but you were worried it was only for play. “What’s wrong? What happened?”

“Seriously, Steve?” You spat, shaking your head as your eyes crinkled. “You lied to me, your parents aren’t home and we are fucking miles away from anyone that could hear us. Don’t think i don’t know what you want from me.” You paused, taking the short steps towards him to place your pointer finger on the middle of his chest. “I am not that kind of girl, I’m not a fling or a one night stand, Harrington. Hell, I didn’t even want to go here in the first time!”

Steve reached forward, grasping both your wrists to bring you out of your ramble. “I’m not trying to get in your pants.” You rolled your eyes and he shook his head. “No seriously, Y/N it wasn’t just because you hit me in the head. I’ve- I’ve liked you for a while now, the smack to the face just prompt me.”

You paused, unsure if you believed him or not. You wanted to, you wouldn’t lie and say the idea of being with Steve wasn’t appealing but… you knew of his reputation. “And why should I believe you?”

“Just stay, please. I’ll believe you.” 

And reluctantly, you nodded.

And hour later you found yourself laughing loudly and sat against one of Steve’s beach chairs. You clutched your stomach in pain as your eyes began to tear with enjoyment as Steve reenacted when he’d been smacked by the ball.

“How’d you even do that?” Steve asked, his own chuckle dying down. “You got a pretty nasty throw for someone so small.”

You raised an eyebrow, smirking; “oh really?” You teased, “want me to show you how to throw like a girl?”

Steve laughed, shaking his head. “Go for it.”

Smiling, you accepted his dare and stood up, shaking your arms out for extra effect. Walking away from your chair and closer to the pool, you shook your body, as if you were preparing yourself for a real throw. “Watch and learn, Harrington.” And slowly, you raised your hand and cupped it as if you had a ball in between your palm and fingers. “Basically, you gotta cup the ball with a firm grip and hold a steady stance.”

“Mmm-hmm.” 

You bit your lip to keep yourself from bursting out in another fit of giggles, both you and Steve aware that you were completely talking out of your ass. “Then reel back,” you demonstrated the movement. “And swing forward.” You let out a puff of air, standing up straight with a proud smirk. “And you’re done.”

Steve stood up, extinguishing his cigarette (he’d offered you one but you kindly refused) and made his way over to you. “Nuh-uh.” He smiled, shaking his head as he reached you.

You crossed your arms, “oh really? Cause i’m pretty sure i’m right.”

“Your stance is all wrong.” Steve critiqued and suddenly he was behind you, grasping your elbow slightly and pushing it up. Your breath got caught in your throat, your entire being aware of how close Steve was behind you. Yet, no part of you stopped him and instead let him move your limbs as he please. “Then kick this foot back slightly and bend your knees ever so slightly.” You followed his directions, holding your head high as his hand slid up your raised hand to grasp your hand. Slowly he intertwined your fingers and you could feel his warm breath on the back of your neck.

“Then you throw.” He mumbled lowly.

You bit you lip, “Steve?”

“No. No talking.” He shushed; “we’re at the end of the demonstration.” Then before you knew it, his hand left yours and both arms wrapped around your waist to haul you up and throw the two of you in the pool. You let out a loud yelp, surfacing under the water and Steve let go of you.

When you were able to breathe again, you let out a loud gasp, brushing your hair from your eyes and turning to a very pleased looking Steve. “You jerk,” you laughed, shooting your hand forward to splash the boy. He chuckled himself, swimming over to you as you began wiping the water from your eyes.

Slowly and smoothly he wrapped his arms around your waist again, lifting up your shirt slightly so his hands made contact with the bare skin of your stomach. Pulling you against him, Steve smiled down at you. “I’m sorry, but it was needed.”

“Oh, was it now?” You smirked, shaking your head. It was then you noticed how close the boys lips were to yours and it seemed to be the only thing you could focus on. Steve of course noticed and wasting no time for you to change your mind, he leaned down to press his wet lips against your own. You didn’t fight the kiss, and instead instantly returned it, your arms wounding around his neck.

When you pulled back, out of breath, you stared up at the boy with a nervous gaze. “You mean this, not just some one night stand?” Steve nodded, staring down at you with sincere eyes. “Promise?”

“Promise.”


… this was a lot longer than intended.

MIKE WHEELER: Before Senior Year

Pairing: mike wheeler x reader (female)

Premise: (y/n) is a year older than Mike wheeler, and she’s friends with Nancy Wheeler. The younger boy has a huge crush on the girl, and one night she is sleeping over at Nancy’s.

Warnings: mentions of playboy (rip Hugh)

———–

“Hey nerd boy, what are you and your friends up to?” (Y/n) says with a joyful smile as she leans against the doorframe of the entrance to the basement of the Wheeler household.

“N-nothing.” Mike snaps the magazine that he and his friends had been looking at closed, and snaps his head and eyes up to look at the girl.

“Yeah, nothing (y/n)!” Lucas and Dustin chime in, with wide eyes looking up at (y/n) at the top of the staircase.

She pauses and cocks an eyebrow at the group of four boys and puts a hand on her hip.

“Are you sure…” she says and begins to look suspicious of them.

She’d just come downstairs from Nancy’s room to grab snacks from their pantry, but couldn’t find any, so she decided to ask the boys (who she knew would be in the basement) for some. She honestly didn’t care what they were doing, they were teenage boys for god sakes, and could do what they wanted. But, she loved teasing the younger boys.

She walked down the stairs and smiled innocently, “what’s that?” She asked cheerfully.

“It’s uh-” Lucas starts

“A DUNGEONS AND DRAGONS MAGAZINE!” Mike interupts him and tucks the magazine behind his back.

They other three boys just nod their head at him in agreement.

“Cool… anyways, I came to ask you guys if you had any snacks I could borrow?” She asks

“Oh… yeah sure-” Mike starts to turn around and relax to hand her a bag of pretzels, and she reaches down and snatches the magazine out of his grip.

She smiled wickedly, and dashes up the stairs to the first floor as fast as she can. Behind her, she can hear the boys panicking and yelling.

“Get the mag! Get the mag!” Dustin yells at the others.

(Y/n) giggles and locks herself in the bathroom, and she can hear the boys yelling, running around, and banging on the door.

“What is going on?” Nancy says, and (y/n) can hear her footsteps as she walks downstairs.

“(Y/n)? Where are you? What’s happening?” She asks

“I’m in here!” (Y/n) yells from inside the bathroom.

The boys freeze as Nancy approaches the bathroom and whisper to eachother frantically with wild hand gestures. She raises her eyebrow and lightly knocks on the wall near the bathroom.

“Why are you in the bathroom? What’s with all of this screaming?” She says towards the wall.

“I went to get food, but there wasn’t any so I went to get some from Mike and his friends!” She explains, “but when I went into the basement, the boys all acted suspicious and tried to hide a magazine from me.” (Y/n) says with another fit of giggles.

“What’s the magazine of (y/n)?” Nancy says with a smirk, knowing whatever it is could be used as blackmail against Mike.

Mike interrupts his older sister, “(y/n)! Don’t look in the magazine! Please? I’ll give you all of the candy I’ve been stockpiling for months!”

“And I’ll give you my monthly allowance!” Will chimes in

“Dang… whatever is in this magazine must be super important.” (Y/n) says to herself with her brows knotted together. Throughout the entire endeavor, she has yet to look at what it actaully is.

She glances at the cover, and giggles immediately. “You guys are a bunch of perverts!” She yells

“What?” Asks Nancy, and she glances over at the boys who are still whispering and exchanging frantic looks.

“It’s a fucking PlayBoy magazine!” She yells at Nancy. “What a bunch of little dweebs.” She laughs again.

“HaHa… yep you caught us! Now can we please have the magazine back? Or you can throw it out if you want even!” Says Mike

It’s pretty obvious in his voice, that he’s faking relief. “What else are you hiding?” She mumbles to herself, and begins to flip through the magazine. She laughs and cringes at the nude women, and for a minute she thinks that maybe an innopropraite magazine is all it is. Her breath hitches when she turns to page 15, and five pieces of lose paper flutter out of the magazine.

“What’s this?” She asks herself.

“What’s what?” Asks Nancy

“(Y/n) for the love of god please just don’t look in the magazine!” Lucas and Dustin yell at her.

(Y/n) turns red as she reads the note to herself. The messy handwritting is matched with a couple of random doodles of people punching and dungeons and dragons characters.

On the first page, it says

“Things that we want to accomplish before senior year:”

Second page:

“Will:

-have a girlfriend

-first kiss

-beat the high score on Dig Dug at the arcade ”

Third page:

“Dustin:

-buy and fix up my own car

-beat the hell out of Troy and James”

Fourth.

“Lucas:

-join the boxing tea

-beat up Troy and James

-bang a chick”

The fifth and final page, was Mike’s

“ Mike:

-build my own radio from scratch

-figure out where eleven went

-get (y/n) to date me”

She looks at the page, and to make sure that her brain isn’t playing tricks on herself, she re-reads the sentence at least 5 times. Then, it sets in and (y/n) realizes.

She opens the door to the bathroom, and hand the magazine and pages over to the boys. No words are spoken for a second until Mike starts to apologize.

“Listen (y/n) I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to tell you- or you to find out like that- or for you to even find out- or to-” She cuts him off.

“Hey Mike, look at the page.” She says with a smile. At the bottom of the page below Mike’s list, (y/n) had scribbled her own list.

“(Y/n):

-save up money enough to go to college

-fix up my car

-date the nerdy wheeler boy”

He glances down at the list, and blinks multiple time before looking at the girl with wide eyes and a blank tongue.

“Tomorrow, 7, the roller rink?” She asks the boy.

He nods and smiles so big she’s afraid his lip might split.

“Did I miss something?” Nancy asks in the background.

Originally posted by fakesonia

Intertwined

Prompt: Fairy Tale AU for @marvelous-fvcks ‘s 3k followers writing challenge, congratulations love!! (also I’m so so sorry that this was late!)

Summary: Working in the royal castle leaves no time to yourself, but at the castle’s busiest time, you meet someone in the market who, despite his charming mannerisms, hides things that you wish you could find out. Then suddenly, your worlds collide in a way you would’ve never expected. 

Pairing: Bucky x Reader

Word Count: 6128 words (woah this is the longest fic I’ve posted oops, but it’s prob one of my cutest)

Warnings: slight angst, too much fluff

Notes: Thank you to @buckys-fossil and @whyisbuckyso for beta-ing this fic, you guys rule <3 

Originally posted by kingsebastian

Keep reading

She is…

A Harry Styles imagine

Based on this request:

Hey could you plzz do an imagine of you not feeling well throughout the day and Harry comes hone and is kinda pissed at you for some reason and you suddenly faint while you arguing. After in the hospital he feels so bad and is worried and it ends with fluff

Enjoy! Requests are open!

~

Ever since you woke up this morning, you’ve been feeling a bit…off. Not the “I’m getting sick” or “something bad is about to happen” kind of off, but there was something that tied a knot in the pit of stomach that has remained there ever since. When you first woke up, you noticed Harry, your boyfriend of almost one and a half year, being gone, even though he was supposed to have few more days off to spend with you before going to do his shows in Australia. You at first hestitated to text him, but you did anyways, asking him where had he gone, but received no reply. Deciding against doing something more or less productive while waiting for Harry to return, hoping he had only ran out to catch some take out, since you had been craving it during the night, even going as far as waking your him up in hopes that he might go and fetch you some, but without a luck. As you tiptoed down the downstairs, the cold floor hitting your bare feet, a sudden feeling of dizziness took over you, making you grip the shelves on the wall next to the stairway, accidentally knocking over a few of Harry’s old childhood pictures, most of them gifted by Robin on his last birthday. Seeing the pictures lying on the floor with shreds of glass around them made you even more dizzy, as Harry had been having a hard time coping with the sad news ever since he passed away. Once you had gained your ability to walk and see straight, you wasted no time in trying to clean the mess up, hoping to fix the broken frames before Harry notices something being out of place, seeing that these were somehow similar to the frames you had recently bought and still had in spare. But the recent mishaps seemed to be following you around as you went, and, as you were picking up the last small pieces of the remaining shreds, a sudden bolt of the door shutting startled you, making you accidentally cut yourself in the palm of your hand. Harry’s heavy boots echoed though the otherwise empty and quiet house, making you inwardly curse to yourself for being so clumsy, knowing a storm is about to hit you.

“(Y/N)! Where are you? I bought some food I thought you might like, to make up fo- what is this?!” He asked in disbelief, at first not noticing you crouched over the broken frames.

“Harry, I-I can explain, I’m so-“

“Sorry? You are sorry?! You broke them!!! With the pictures Robin himself gave me as a present!! How could you be so heartless?? You know how much they mean to me!!” He raged, kicking the bucket full of scraps, sending them flying across the floor. He bent down, trying to pick up the pictures himself, with you trying to help.

“Leave it, you have done enough already” he spat, gripping your wounded hand in order to stop you from even touching them, making pain shoot right through you.

“Harry, I said I’m sorry, it was an accident…” you breathed out, silent tears sliding down your cheeks.

“No. No, (Y/N). Don’t start this. At first you cancel our last night’s plans, because you “just felt like staying in”, even though we were not the only ones going and I had to find a silly excuse as to why, then you wake me up god knows how early just to tell me that you want food, and now this! What is wrong with you?!?” He fumed, but his rant became more distant with time and once again the feeling of dizziness took over you, this time sending you in the depths of darkness, making the shards of glass pierce your skin as your body hit the floor.


Harry’s POV


I was livid. The last few days have been a mess - so much to do, yet so little time. Not to mention the lack of sleep. The making of new music, arranging the new additional tour dates and interviews, making sure I get everything done before I take off to Australia was taking its toll on me. And her. (Y/N). God forgive me for leaving her like this the whole time. I’ve missed her so much, and the thought of me leaving her has been driving me mad. Especially this time, even though I cannot fully understand why. Every minute spent together with her has been leading me to the edge of breaking, either in tears or rage, and this time rage took over. It’s not like she has done anything wrong, no. It’s just that the more time we spend together alone, the more I don’t want to leave, making me consider postponing the tour, to which my management would never agree to. And the fans…

Last night we were supposed to go out for a nice dinner with my team, making it important to actually show up, since I was the one who initially came up with the idea. Having to lie made me angry, not because I could not understand that (Y/N) was not feeling her best, but the fact that she realised that only an hour before the actual meeting, making me look bad infront of important people. Even though I was more than glad to finally get a good night’s sleep, (Y/N) decided otherwise, which is the reason for my cranky mood today, since I had refused to get up, guilt eating me, as I felt her shuffle further away from me, mumbling a “sorry” as she did so. Waking up this morning, however, was when I decided I cannot keep up my behaviour and took a drive to the nearest take out place, knowing very well she would forgive me for being a massive dick. I don’t even want to talk about what happened when I arrived home. Something inside of me just snapped…

Seeing her fall, however, was the worst feeling I’ve felt in a long time. Watching the love of my life fall on top of a layer of scraps that I had initially scattered there in the fit of rage I was having, made me sick in my stomach, and seeing her unconscious and bleeding just about broke my heart. I rushed towards her and craddled her in my arms, shaking her for the dear life, hoping to see her beautiful eyes look up to me, telling me that this was all just a bad dream, and that everything is alright…

Once I took her to the hospital for the doctors to take care of her and find out what caused the fainting, praying to myself that I was not the reason behind it, I couldn’t help but to fear the worst. I kept repeating everything I said to her in my mind, wincing at how rude and unnecessary that was. I couldn’t help but to sob next to her bed, praying for her to wake up and forgive me, to hold me the way I’m holding her now and to tell me that everything is okay. That it will be okay… It will, right?

When the doctor came in, I couldn’t help but to jump up from my chair, asking him to give me the answers I oh so desperately wanted to know.

“Mr.Styles, you have got to calm down. The stitching was done professionally, so the scaring will be little to none with the right precautions taken. The fainting, however, is something I am more concerned about..” the doctor trailed off, making my heart sink.

“Wh-what is it?” I sniffled, not caring about anyone noticing my current state.

“Well, she has been lacking on the intake of vitamins, which, in her case, has lead this far, thus harming her immune system, not to mention the stress, but with the right diet and excercise, they should be fine.”

“I-I’m sorry, did I hear correct? They?”

Oh, yes, they. She is pregnant!