i had this great idea in my head what this would be like

whipashwhipash  asked:

“I’m a screamer. Not sexually, just at life in general.” “I can make that sexually." and "Are you flirting with me?" for Reddie! Also, can you do it eddie being the one saying "I can make that sexually" under his breath??? Thank you!!! (btw this is oldfashionedvanilla, i changed my blog :))

  • ever since richie and eddie started going out they weren’t able to keep their hands off of each other
  • like they’d constantly be kissing,, hugging,, just TOUCHINg each other and the other losers would get bored with them  
  • they’d just kinda be like “okkkk guys u can stop it now” when their sneaky make out session mid movie was getting so loud that it was drawing attention off of the movie
  • none of the losers were surprised by this ofc because they knew the couple had always had chemistry long before they even got together and their opposites only attracted them more to each other
  • but something they were surprised of was that even though you’d think richie would constantly be flirting with eddie,, IT WAS THE OPPOSITE!
  • richie wouldn’t know how to flirt at ALL now that him and eddie were finally together
  • he would just fluster and be quiet and just get super awkward and everyone would be like “wow richie we’re disappointed in you”
  • and now eddie would be enjoying this fully and he’d be such a pain in the ass ,, constantly flirting with richie and paying back for all the times he’d made eddie blush before they were together
  • one time when they were watching a horror movie richie let out a girly scream
  • “what the fUCK richie” stan would go
  • “that wasn’t me that was eddie”
  • “oh pls” eddie would roll his eyes
  • “okay well that scene was a jump scare so it’s not fair. besides i am a professional screamer. not sexually just at life in general” richie defended himself and the other losers just snorted in amusement/shook their heads/something but were concentrated on the movie again
  • eddie got a devilish idea and ran his finger up richie’s arm and leaned up a little so that his lips were right next to his ear
  • “i can make that sexually”
  • richie would go pale white and eddie would just smirk wide and then act like he didn’t even say anything
  • “hey can u pass me that popcorn bowl rich”
  • he’d also compliment richie in front of the losers all the time because he knew it would make him blush
  • “you’re so hot
  • “richie you’re CUTE
  • “oh my god i LOvE it when u wear a beanie”
  • and as eddie expected richie would always be so AWKWARD and blush “thank u…eds…”
  • he’d seriously never drop it bc he enjoys the fact he can make his bf go from HEY ASSHOLES LETS ALL SNORT COKE OFF OF EDDIE’S MOM’S TITS to speechless and flustered and just snuggling against eddie as a way of saying thank u and pls love me more
  • there’s one time eddie is the most proud of tho
  • since yes,,, he loves making his boyfriend nervous in a cute way because of him
  • but he also loves making him happy
  • so one time at school ,,, richie was given great recognition from something he painted in arts class. honestly eddie didn’t even know richie was a painter but the picture was made with mostly black and blue and dark purple shades of paint and it was of a boy smoking a cigarette outside in the middle of the night
  • and it was v good??? eddie was shook
  • anyway then the teacher is like “well eddie ur friend really is talented!!”
  • “yes,, my BOYfriend actually and he’s very talented and also beautiful have y noticed how beautiful this face is ???? beautiful inside and out like we can see from the painting.!!!!”
  • richie would be so MAD at eddie for doing this in front of the teacher but he couldn’t help but smile at eddie’s compliments because did he just say richie is very talented and beautiful inside and out 
  • richie swoons
  • “well uh im not gonna comment on a student’s looks but his painting sure is beautiful so i think im gonna give you an A” -teacher
  • richie would be like
  • “wait what”
  • teacher nods and eddie smiles up at his bf and he’s so PROUD
  • once they walk out of the class eddie immediately showers richie in kisses and he’s a little confused but def not complaining about it
  • “what’s this for”
  • “bc im proud”
  • “you’re proud???”
  • “yes im proud i didn’t even know u could paint”
  • “right ,,, well i do”
  • silence
  • “hey” eddie would go
  • “??”
  • “u wanna paint me?”
  • richie blushes just at the tHOUGHT because he could never paint eddie he could never possibly do justice to his features
  • then eddie gets on his tiptoes and wraps his arms in richie’s neck and again does the whisper that gets richie’s skin on goosebumps
  • “…..naked”
  • richie turns the shade of a tomato and eddie laughs maniacally inside his head because he’s so good at this

@superbyersbros @xbell22 @donthateonk8 @stenbroughbros@reddiebrekmyheart@itsgreywaterrichie @donvex @blueeyespurpleskies @ageorgymi @oh-youre-the-worst@eddiekaaspbraak @whipashwhipash @rissyq @richietoaster @edskasqbrak@urtury@bukiminajimu @kcutieeesblog @stansmansuris @adorefack @reddieaddict@icyeyes102@denbroughbill @graveyardshipper @taletellingsir @anxiety-freak-yuuri@rheddie@queertrashmouth @richiefreakingtozier @castletozier @tohzier @80soleff@lonewolfhard @80soleff @temptedtozier @beepbeep-losers @badboyharrington @richietoaster @sad-synth @low-key-dying 

Philosophy

Summary: While waiting for Joan, the sides and Thomas theorize about things.

-

New to the story? Check out: The Story So Far: Masterlist  


Thomas walked Joan to the door. When they got there, Joan turned and looked up at Thomas, who was still feeling more than a little shaken up. 

“Hey. You okay?” they asked. 

Thomas made a face, glancing over his shoulder, but the sides had retreated back to the couch and he couldn’t see them anymore. “I guess so?” he said, raking his hand through his hair again. “I mean…I’m feeling a little better now that I know you see them too, but I’m not sure what it means for the both of us. You know?” 

“I really do.” Joan smirked, then shrugged. “But I mean, what else can we do but roll with it?” 

“You sound like Logan,” Thomas said. “It’s happening, so let’s move forward from here.” 

“Logan is a smart guy,” Joan agreed, patting Thomas on the shoulder. “You should listen to him.” 

Thomas chuckled, then grabbed Joan’s hand on impulse and clutched it for a moment. “You’ll come right back?” he said. “Promise?” 

“Yes, I promise, Thomas,” Joan assured him. “Hey. It’s gonna be cool. Okay?” 

“Yeah. I guess. Okay.” 

He watched as his friend climbed into their car and pulled out of the apartment’s parking lot, then turned and headed reluctantly back inside. 

Now that he knew the sides were really there, he was feeling…oddly self-conscious about the whole thing. These were his characters–parts that he’d played for over a year now. And they were here, in his apartment. He doubted he could’ve been more gobsmacked if all his favorite Disney characters suddenly came to life and started asking for coffee. 

He rounded the corner and there they were, still solid as ever, sitting on his sectional couch. At least I have a big couch? Thomas thought, then bit back an insane urge to giggle. He wasn’t sure it wouldn’t turn hysterical if he did. 

The sides all looked up at him, and he flushed under their combined scrutiny. “Uh…do you…do you guys need anything? Drinks, or…or anything…?” 

“Drinks might be good!” Patton said, climbing to his feet. “Let me help you with them, huh?” 

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The Roof

It seemed odd that when Erik was most upset, he would not seek solace at his piano or pipe organ, which he saved almost entirely for venting his loudest emotions, but would venture to the very top of the Opera Populaire instead. If he wanted to be alone, there was no better place than locked away in his dark room in the dark house on the dark lake beneath the opera, yet it was as far opposite as one could go that his blackest moods always brought him.


Perhaps he couldn’t stand the cloying, damp atmosphere of the fifth cellar at such times. Perhaps the cold, clear air helped calm him. Or maybe he just enjoyed looking down on everyone from a secluded pedestal. She had no idea. All she knew was that it always surprised her to find him there, and that the best thing for them both was probably to just let him be, no matter how lonely his dark silhouette looked against the pale gray sky.


But she had never been very good at doing the best thing.


And so she closed the door behind her and began to slowly walk towards that tall, forbidding form, crossing her arms against the chill wind that whipped across the roof. He couldn’t have known it was her, surely, but he still didn’t move; the door hadn’t even been locked. Something shifting uneasily in her gut told her it was a very bad sign, and that she should tread quite carefully–back the way she came no doubt, added the small, sensible portion of her mind. But her heart disagreed as per the norm, tugging her forward steadily. Intuition and its insistent whisper that something was dreadfully wrong seemed to second the foolhardy notion that brought her to stand close behind him and call out softly, “Erik? Are you all right?”


To her great surprise, he answered. His voice was soft and hoarse, and his hands opened and closed at his sides like claws as he spoke.


“Tell me, my dear, which do you dream of more often: flying or falling?”


There was something unnerving in that gently scraping murmur.


“Well….” She swallowed and took a step closer so that she could see something of his face. His head was tilted down, and his eyes seemed to look far, far away. “Both, I suppose,” she replied quietly, trying to quell the tremor in her voice. “Why do you ask?”


“It must be very nice to dream of flying instead of falling–always falling–through an endless, burning darkness. It hurts dreadfully, though there is never a bottom. Do you suppose that it what hell is like?”


Erik paused, and she didn’t know if he was waiting for her to speak; she didn’t know if she could have.


“Often one wishes there was a bottom,” he continued in that oddly detached, hollow way. “Perhaps that would end it.”


He shifted a half step closer to the edge over which his gaze seemed fixed. They were already far too close to the side for her taste; this step brought her heart right into her throat, and his next words froze it there. “It couldn’t be half as painful as falling, could it?”


His name left her as a panicked yelp. She clapped a hand over her mouth, but he didn’t seem to have noticed at all.


“Erik,” she amended in a purposefully soft, coaxing tone. “Can we…can we please go home now?”


His chin pivoted a slight but encouraging inch in her direction, away from the frightening drop so near their feet.


“Home?” he hummed distantly, almost too quiet to hear.


“Yes,” she said over a gulp. “Let’s go home, Erik. Please.” And then slowly, tentatively, with every muscle in her body tensed, she crossed the meter of space between them and gently wound her arm around his. A tense span of breathless, waiting seconds passed, and then she leaned into his side with a shuddering sigh.


She saw his head cock like a bird’s out of the corner of her eye. “Are you cold?” he asked in a voice that loosened her shoulders a little.


Her cheek nuzzled against the softness of his sleeve, and she nodded. Never had she been colder than in the moment he took that step closer to the building’s edge. It was the kind of cold that sat in her bones now and made her feel like she might never be warm again.


That same cold seized up within her when, without warning, his arm slipped from hers. Her hands shot out to grab at his clothes desperately, and it occurred to her that she could not see a thing through all the tears suddenly in her eyes, nor hardly hear the sigh he gave for how loudly she was breathing. He stood there and let her clutch his clothes and cry her tears quite patiently for a minute. After that, a handkerchief was delicately wiping over her face as he tutted at her, and she would have laughed had she not been sniffling still.


“You silly girl,” he chided gently, dabbing at her cheeks. “I was only getting my cloak for you.”


And then it slid around her shoulders like a black, sheltering cloud. He pressed his kerchief into her hands in lieu of his clothes, which he smoothed down with a sniff.


By this time she was feeling a little better, and it only increased when he reached around and pulled her close against him.


“Come. I feel a chill descending; it looks like rain.”


But she didn’t care much about the chill any longer. Tucked into his side like that, she was quite comfortable again. It was as warm as could be under his cape and his arm and his once-more watchful gaze, and warmer still the farther away they got from the edge of the roof.


She decided, as he led them away and talked of hearth fires and suppertime, that she would never let him go up there alone again.


And she never did.

How to Know if a Girl is a Lesbian

Anonymous requested: Hi ohmygod I love your acc haha,Do you do song fics? Cause I have an idea for maybe a Natasha x reader but Im crap at writing, so basically it’s the song how to know if a girl is a lesbian by ally hills,it’s on yt and like maybe Natasha is trying to figure out if the reader is gay?? Also your writing is amazing!!! ✨

Fandom: Marvel
Pairing: Natasha Romanoff x lesbian!reader
Word count: 916
Warnings: None
Tags:@thebreakerofchains @fortheloveofbenyandtom @geeky-girl-394 @zombieannamilton @high–power @im-in-love-with-a-fictional-girl @spiderween @jenma-simmons @458stuff @faith2nyc

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Music Series: Perfect by Ed Sheeran

Oooh, Ed, Ed, Ed….you’ve done it again….

Unless you are new here on my blog, you know that Ed’s songs make me swoon. It can’t be helped if you are a hopeless romantic like myself. We all wish for someone to love us the way he loves the woman in this song, which he wrote for his girlfriend, and co-wrote with his brother. It is absolutely one of those beautifully sweet love songs that makes you wipe a tear as you realize how alone and lonely you are without a person to love you like the man in this song loves his girl…or is that just me…sniff sniff…

(And please forgive me, everyone…I’m going through a day where I feel like everything I write is shit, so I hope someone likes it. The demons of the mind are a horrible thing.)

Thank you, Anon, for reading and requesting. I had this one on my list to write already, so I’m happy someone else loves it as much as I do. This is “Perfect” by Ed Sheeran. I am posting the Acoustic Version of this song on Spotify because I like it even more than the original, and you can find it as well on my Harry Styles Imagines playlist on Spotify. xo

Shelli

******************

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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.

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BTS replaced you. - pt.2

[pt.1] [pt.2] [pt.3] [pt.END]


Originally posted by fairybcby

After the conversation we shared I muted the conversation, there was nothing I wanted to hear anymore and nothing I wanted to do but sleep. I was curious of what they had to say, if anything at all but at the same time I didn’t want to know because they probably don’t think it’s a big deal they’ve missed my birthday three years in a row. I sat at my dining room table, staring at the candlelit cake in front of me. It was their favourite, strawberry flavour and just looking at it reminded me of them and how they won’t be here again to share this too large cake for one with me.

For so long I believed that we were best friends, that we were inseparable and nothing or no one could come between the friendship we shared because we had been through so much with one another. But I was wrong. They let her get between us. I don’t want to be a selfish brat that I’m seeming to be, but they just forgot me so easily after spending a week with her, wouldn’t that hurt you? They used to be the first people to say happy birthday to me, even if they were away they’d never forget to FaceTime me at 12am - but this year, even though we were supposed to celebrate, they didn’t call at 12, they didn’t send me a text. Because they forgot, and they left me waiting for them like a fool standing outside the restaurant in the winter cold holding my own birthday cake. They promised. They promised that they were going to celebrate with me this year for sure, they even made sure they had no schedule clashes today so that we could celebrate, but just like that they forgot and I was replaced with someone new, someone better.

People looked at me funny, people who walked into the restaurant, had their meal and came back out to see me still standing there alone - they all looked at me with pity in their eyes. ‘That girl must’ve got stood up’ must be what they were all thinking. Yeah I was stood up by my seven best friends. The entire week they’ve been hanging out, the entire week they’ve dismissed me. ‘If it was important we would have remembered’ ‘Clearly wasn’t all that important’, that hurt to say the least, it only told me how much I didn’t mean to them, making it clear to me that they don’t need me in their lives anymore because they have someone new, someone that let’s them have the personal space that they needed and I understood now. I was only ever thinking of myself and what I wanted. Maybe they didn’t forget, maybe this was their way to tell me that our friendship is over. 

I blew out the candle without making a wish, wishes don’t come true. I’ve wished for the same thing the last two years and each following year I end up getting disappointed. I crawled into bed and went to sleep, eyes slightly wet from crying. But a few hours later, I heard my phone ring; I picked up without even checking the caller ID. 

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anonymous asked:

For the "I wish you would write a fic where..." thing: In a canon setting, except Stiles is older, went to highschool with Derek and was friend with him. He can be a deputy at the beginning, trying to deal with a newly bitten Scott, whom he considers a little brother, and the return of Derek, his friend from school and old (current) crush. Do you think it's a good idea?

So, turns out I love this idea more than anything, and I have so many ideas about this and how it would proceed, but I’m not rewriting the first season, okay. I’m not.


Stiles was very cold, very wet, and very tired, because it was midnight, raining, and he was out in the preserve looking for a body.

Half a body.

They had the bottom half, they just had to find the part they could actually ID.

East side clear, the radio on his shoulder crackled, and his dad’s voice responded for the pair of deputies to head north to meet up with the K9 team. Everything cool was happening on the northside, and yet Stiles was stuck on the southside of the preserve, with Jordan Parrish.

Jordan Parrish of unending optimism and energy.

How he got paired up with the newbie, he’d never know.

Okay, he would, because technically he was also a newbie, except he really wasn’t. Sure, he might’ve been somewhat new to being employed as a deputy of the Sheriff’s Station of Beacon County, but he’d literally grown up in that station; not one person there could say he was really a rookie.

“God, this sucks,” Stiles muttered, sweeping his flashlight back and forth across the wet and muddy ground in front of him. So far he’d found all of two dead rabbits and some dog shit someone didn’t clean up, so, real thrilling night here. Great search.

“Could be worse,” Parrish responded lightly with a shrug, and Stiles rolled his eyes at the darkness in front of him.

“Don’t say Afghanistan.”

The audible smirk in the following pause told him that was exactly what Parrish was about to say.

“I’d rather be a little damp than have sand in my boots, any day.”

“Yeah, well you didn’t step in that puddle.” Stiles’ foot was still freezing and squelched even more than the muddy forest floor beneath it.

It sucked that a woman died, yes, but Stiles was also having a rotten time.

Time passed, there were more updates of nothing found over the radio, a couple dog barks in the distance, and still they found no body.

Given that it was almost one in the morning and everyone Stiles normally talked to was either at home asleep or out in the woods with him on the radio, it took a second for his ringing cellphone to register beyond a mild annoyance that Parrish would have his phone on that loud during his shift.

“You gonna get that?” Parrish asked, and Stiles frowned at him for a second before realizing that was indeed his ringtone, and if someone was calling this late, it was probably something serious.

He only glanced at the caller ID for the briefest second as he answered.

“Yo, Scotty, what’s up?” He was about to add that he couldn’t talk right then when Scott’s panicked babbling steamrolled through his mind.

“Stiles! Oh god, you have to come get me! You’re in the preserve right? Because I’m pretty sure I’m lost, and something bit me, and—”

“Wait, hang on, you’re where?” He was tired, he was struggling to keep up with everything, and Scott was breathing like he would be needing his inhaler in about five seconds. “Why the hell are you in the woods, you know we’re looking for a body right?” he hissed into the phone, glancing briefly at Parrish, who was watching with raised eyebrows.

“Problem, Stiles?”

He shook his head, trying to act casual as Scott frantically rambled out,

“I’m by the west entrance to the preserve, I think? Stiles, I don’t know what the hell it was, but it came out of nowhere, and I’m bleeding, and I can’t find Erica—”

“Erica’s with you?” Christ, it just got better and better. “Okay, stay where you are, I’ll come find you and I’ll tell everyone to keep an eye out for Erica.”

That didn’t calm Scott down at all.

“You can’t do that, her parents would kill her if cops brought her home! You know how crazy they are!”

Stiles rubbed at his forehead. He was cold and wet and tired and now he was getting a headache. “Yes, because she has epilepsy, Scott! She could die out here.” Parrish was coming over, looking concerned. “Just stay where you are, we’re coming.”

He hung up with a frustrated huff.

“Scott’s out here?” Parrish asked, already heading south, so clearly that phone call hadn’t been as discreet as Stiles would’ve liked. At least he seemed to be going with it—despite appearances, not a total stickler for the rules. Good to know.

“And Erica. They went looking for the body.” They must’ve heard the call on the old police scanner in Stiles’ jeep. He needed to stop letting Scott borrow his car. And Scott needed to learn to stand up to Erica’s insane whims, because there was no way this wasn’t her idea.

They walked in silence for a second before Parrish said, “You know you’d do the same if you were their age, right?”

“Shut up.”

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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.

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I Gift to You

@restlessandordinary OKAY, two things. One, I had this idea in my head and it is probably WAY different than you originally planned. Sorry about that. Two, this is later than I told you I would get it out. Sorry about that. Three, if you’ve got an AO3, I would like to have it so that I can gift this to you, since it is longer than a normal drabble and can stand as a oneshot. 

————————————————————————–


               The first time it happened, Draco swore it was just a slip up. He wouldn’t do it again. Nope. Potter certainly didn’t deserve his generosity. Because that was exactly what this was. People didn’t give him enough credit when it came to being nice.

               It’s just that the sight of the eleven-year-old in glasses that weren’t fitting his face, were horribly old, fading in color and just not aesthetically pleasing, had him wanting to rectify this travesty immediately. This wasn’t because he cared or anything. Nope. This was doing everyone else a favor. Really. It benefited society by no one having to see the hideous specs.

               Draco timed it perfectly. He knew that Potter tended to spend longer eating than everyone else. Certainly, longer than Weasley. The redhead inhaled food quicker than he did air. So, when Potter was about to leave for his morning class, Draco signaled the school owl that he had trained to wait for his mark. It took weeks to train the bloody bird. The only problem was that the bird was now attached to him. Which hadn’t been previously intended. At least the owl had proper taste.

               The brown barn owl swooped down, catching the attention of a few stragglers but otherwise the notice was limited.

               Confusion was the first expression that Draco could make out. He knew that the Gryffindor probably wondered why his snowy owl hadn’t delivered the mail, but the boy was too curious to not open it. Not exactly the smartest thing to do but that was just his own suspicious nature coming forward.

               The confusion quickly bled into shock before a genuinely pleased glint appeared in the brunette’s eyes.

               Instructions had been placed in the package, because Draco knew that intelligence was the reason the reckless idiot hadn’t been placed into Ravenclaw. The glasses were charmed to stay on his face until the wearer wished them off. They would mold to the user’s needs, whether the eye sight got worse with age or not. Not to mention, the frames would change to match the user’s outfit, ensuring that they remain elegant at all times. Which was a deal breaker in his opinion.

               Draco’s resolve to allow this to be a brief moment of weakness and a onetime instance, shattered at the flush on Potter’s face and a shy grin flickered on the Gryffindor’s lips.

               Salazar, this wasn’t supposed to happen. The git wasn’t allowed to make him feel like this. Draco Lucius Malfoy doesn’t do sappy feelings.

               Angrily, Draco made his way swiftly towards the entrance, inwardly cursing Potter’s existence. It wasn’t until he almost reached the door that he heard Longbottom’s question.

               “Oh, wow. Those are pretty expensive. Who sent them to you?”

               “No idea.” Potter’s tone was a little awed. “The note just says, ‘To fix your face, finally’.”

 —————————————————————-

               Draco was determined that the second time still be counted as a slip up. This wasn’t going to be a regular thing. Nope. Not at all. Because that was just silly. Draco Lucius Malfoy doesn’t do nice things for other people. Especially to Potter.

               Unfortunately, the delivery was not as well timed as last year’s gift. The other two members of the Idiotic Trio were still around.

               He watched his the school owl struggle to carry the packages and it caused a twinge of guilt inside Draco. He couldn’t trust any other owls to do the job, so the bird would have to do it alone.

               When Potter looked to the owl, it was clear that he recognized the bird. The Gryffindor reached out a hand to softly pet the owl before opening the packages with gusto.

               Draco couldn’t hear what was going on from where he sat, but he could tell that the other boy had gasped. It was the way the eyes widened, and his mouth dropped open slowly. Which was a great reaction so far. He knew that his gift would mean something. Not that he cared about that.

               The silence was killing him. He needed to know what was being said. Draco slowly made to the end of the table, pretending that he was listening to a few of his housemate’s conversations before using that as a reason to go a different route towards the exit.

               Just as he passed, he caught the beginning of Weasley’s questions.

               “What is it? Why would someone send you books full of scribbles?”

               Draco rolled his eyes and sighed heavily. Scribbles. That one actually hurt.

               “It’s not scribbles, Ron!” Granger corrected. “I think it’s in Parseltongue.”

               “It is.” Potter whispered, fingers running over the title of the first book. Behind the Wonders of Parseltongue Volume I: The History of the Snake Language and Why it’s a Blessing and Not a Curse.

               “Why do you think they sent it?” Weasley asked, eyeing the book warily.

               “To send me a message.” Answered Potter, placing the book in his lap, only to pick up the second one. Behind the Wonders ofParseltongue Volume II: The Astonishing Accomplishments that Parseltongue has Brought to the World.

               “What message? Because they think you are Slytherin’s Heir?”

               Draco wasn’t going to even bother coming up with a mental reply for that one.

               “No.” Potter shook his head. “So that I can love all parts of me. Even the ones that are perceived as evil.”

               The insight had Draco fighting off a flush. That was not his intention… not exactly. He just hated the thought of others degrading Potter’s ability just because they don’t understand it. There is nothing wrong with being a Parselmouth. It wasn’t dark, vile or even evil.

               “Does the note say who it’s from?” There was suspicion in Granger’s tone, which had Draco scoffing internally. If he had wanted to harm Potter, he would have. It’s not like the brunette even spell checks the gifts. Which was actually pretty moronic, but that was just Draco’s thought on the matter.

               “No, it just says, ‘To learn something, for once’.”

 ————————————————————–

               The evidence against this being a onetime incident was becoming a reach, even in Draco’s own mind. But that was beside the point.

               So far, this would probably be his worst idea yet. This was getting rather personal… but he couldn’t allow this year to continue with the mass hysteria that everyone walked around with. Not when it was a farce to begin with.

               This time, he chose to have Russet—not that he named the infernal bird—deliver the gift during a nighttime study session the Idiotic Trio were having in the Library.

               When a light scratching drew Potter’s attention to the window next to him, Draco stepped into the shadows of an alcove.

               “Oh, it’s you.” Potter’s voice took a happy glint to it.

               Draco watched him rip of the packaging and freeze. This was a normal reaction, but he just hoped that the brunette wouldn’t become angry.

               News clippings, articles posted in obscure news outlets, court records and even statements made by the accused where staring up at Potter.

               He watched Potter’s brow furrow slightly with each passing minute until he was full blown frowning as each parchment was leafed through.

               “Hermione!” Potter whisper yelled as his voice cracked.

               “What? What is it? Oh, your anonymous friend sent you something?” Granger hadn’t looked up from her book on Medieval Flobberworms and Why They Were the Downfall of Mermish Society, as she walked down the aisle.

               “Hermione, can the Wizengamot sentence someone to Azkaban without a trial?”

               That caused Granger to peer up at him in confusion. “No, it violates several laws and is illegal.”

               Potter thrusted all of the articles harshly as Weasley came around the other side of the table and read over their shoulders.

               “Oh.” Granger whispered, blinking rapidly. “This isn’t good.”

               “Black is innocent, isn’t he?” There was a miserable confusion in Potter’s tone. But Draco couldn’t have admitted that he knew from his father that Black truly hadn’t been a Death Eater, without revealing sources.

               “Let me guess.” Weasley began sarcastically. “There’s no signature?”

               “Just a note that says, ‘To provide the proof that has always been there, idiot’.”

 ———————————————————-

Keep reading

Bruises On Another (part three)

Originally posted by nwetss

Prompt: Steve doesn’t know where they come from, and he isn’t exactly sure why they’re there. All he knows is that his body is littered in bruises, and there’s something different about them. They aren’t just bruises, and they certainly didn’t come from a trip in a step or clumsiness. No, Steve knows there’s more behind the marks that litter his body.

THIS IS A SERIES: one - two - three - four - five - six - seven - eight - finale

Pairing: Slow!Burn Steve x Reader, Billy x Reader (it’ll make sense)

Warnings: marks, bruises, pain, physical abuse, etc. I mean no disrespect to anyone or to upset anyone, this story starts off rough but I can say that things will get better.

A/N: I hope you all enjoy this chapter as much as I enjoyed writing it. Send me a little comment in the ask section or leave it below on what you thought of this chapter. It doesn’t have to be long, I appreciate every single comment I receive and telling me just helps inspire me to write it more frequently.

OH! And just to be clear about a few things, as i’ve mentioned (literally right below this) this is a soulmate AU. I don’t write these often so i’m not sure how they exactly work, but the way i’ve written mine is Steve and the reader aren’t just connected through the marks and bruises but almost like spiritually i guess? When they first meet, something like wells within them. And when Steve sees her with Billy, he doesn’t know why, but he almost feels a sort of jealousy and almost wanting to protect the reader. And later on in the story, you’ll see the reader a bit jealous of Steve as well. That’s because they have a connection, they just don’t know it yet.

P.S. This a soulmate AU.

Tag’s List: @slythergirlimagines - @agentwhlskey - @impulsivesuperrobin - @darlingimawriter - @starshininginthedark - @jxhn-mxrphy - @audreysduvxl - @patronuscas - @ninjacookiegirl - @losers-club-imagines-and-stuff - @evelxn-cruz - @lovatoarchives - @justanothermarvelfan - @hey-margot - @draussen-ist-freiheit - @pennywyatt - @ordinarily-weird - @theloveisgoodbadours - @delicrieux - @burgerrroll - @kingham-writes - @suicidesqwads - @i-hate-the-pie-people - @slightly-depressed-idiot - @winter111502 - @chasestudy - @simplyhollander - @jessie9008 - @poppunkdork - @almusanzug - @babyhollands - @x-ximenas - @sleepylunarwolf - @richierichandthelosers - @wearing-a-wormstache - @dare-to-dream-about-1d - @itssociallyawkwardowl - @raised-by-fandoms - @captain—potter - @straight–on-til-morning - @mellowlandrunaway - @torrentmgc - @jacks-star-pupil - @of-outerspace - @letsgetfuckingsuperwholocked - @reddie-stenbrough - @mad-ramblings-of-a-fan - @fanficwriteromega - @fandomsandwriting@aj-was-taken - @pinkcalumh - @lomlwentworth - @jimmyisfab 
Want to be featured on the tag’s list? Message me letting me know!
bolded is who I couldn’t tag!


“Y/N! Just the girl I wanted to see!”

You turned around at the sound of a voice, find none other than; “Billy.” You’d met him yesterday in your social class and because you were the new students, your teacher had paired you together. The boy had seemed nice enough when first speaking to him and he definitely didn’t know how to quit, so you weren’t all that surprised to find him by your side right before lunch.

The mullet haired boy reached your side in record time, squeezing past other students in the hallway. You felt yourself flinch from contact as Billy wound his arm around your waist and pressed you against his side. You tried to ignore the pain that grew as he hit a fresh bruise from the night before and when you glanced at him, you hoped he hadn’t noticed your flinch but you could tell by look on his face he had. “I didn’t mean to upset ya’, darlin’.” He said, staring at you with feigned worry; you just didn’t know it at the time.

“No,” you responded softly, shaking your head. “No it’s fine. I’m just… just a little bit jumpy.”

Billy nodded, as if he understood and leaned back as you both made your way through the halls. You tried to ignore the dark looks you received from other girls as you made your way to your locker. From what you’d heard at your two days in Hawkin’s High School, Billy was the new it guy, everybody wanted to be with him or be him. So the looks made sense, you just didn’t understand why Billy was so fascinated with you. 

“Ignore them darlin’, they’ve got nothing on you.” You glanced over at Billy surprised, feeling your cheeks burn red in shock at his comment. As you glanced at the many girls, you didn’t completely agree with his statement. “Don’t look so shocked.”

“No, it’s just-” you said again, shaking your head. You went to say more but found yourself lost in your thoughts and instead glanced back down at the floor. “Okay.” You submitted. You sighed in relief when you reached your locker and Billy stepped away from your side to instead lean against the locker next to yours. You couldn’t help, though, feel his gaze grazing your body the entire time like a predator would look at it’s pray.

You pulled down the sleeves of your sweater, and focused your entire attention on slipping your textbooks into your locker.

“So, you hear about Tina’s party this Friday?”

How could you not? You might not be very social but that’s all you ever heard when walking in the halls. Of course, even though you’d been given a slip, you made no plan of going considering you knew your father would never allow you. Hell, if your father knew that you were speaking to a boy like Billy now… there’d be a huge price to pay. Still you nodded in response to his question, sensing where it’d lead.

“Wanna go?” It seemed Billy didn’t like to wait long when pursuing the girls he showed interest in. 

You paused after that, knowing that your father would say no, you just didn’t know how to tell Billy that. “I-I’m not too sure… My father-” You were cut off by Billy’s hand reaching out and practically petting your cheek; you froze in surprise from the movement, unsure of how to react to the bold move. 

You met Billy’s eyes and found yourself stuck as he smile sultry at you and leaned in closer. With his hand still on your cheek, you found yourself frozen as you found your father’s eyes in Billy’s. You felt yourself grow petrified and hating the way any man or even woman who threatened even the tiniest bit could grow control over you. It made you feel weak and pathetic, but yet you only continued to stare at Billy. “Come on, Y/N.” Billy mumbled, and you found yourself no longer able to hear the loud crowd of kids around you. “I think you’d look cute in a costume, so what do you say?”

You opened your mouth to say something but another’s cut you off; “is there a problem?”

You moved your gaze over to the newcomer and found none of than the familiar pair of brown eyes you’ve been trying to avoid. It seemed that Steve’s presence was enough to get Billy to step away from you, and soon you found the mullet-haired boy standing in front of you, blocking you slightly from Steve’s eyesight. It was then that you noticed the two girls behind Steve, one you recognized as the girl who’d helped you the day before; Nancy.

“Harrington.” Billy greeted and you could just practically hear the smirk forming on his lips. “Nope, no problem here.”

Steve glared at Billy before you found his eyes on you; “Y/N?”

You paused, shocked that he’d even considered an answer from you. Normally everyone did the talking for you, and you weren’t really allowed to speak for yourself. But before you could respond, Billy spoke up; “I said there’s no problem, Harrington. Why don’t you stay out of other people’s businesses.” 

“I’m sure Y/N can answer for herself.”

Suddenly all eyes were on you, including Billy’s and you swallowed the lump in your throat. You met Billy’s gaze and saw your father, so instead of saying what you should’ve of, you mumbled; “i’m fine.”

You missed the way Steve’s gaze fell and his tense shoulder’s slumped. Pressing a hand against his chest, Billy took a step forward; “see? Everything’s fine.” Steve glanced at you one final time, and it seemed like he was going to say more before Nancy stepped up and grabbed his arm. “Steve, let’s just go.” She whispered to him and you found your eyes stuck on her hand on his arm, your brows furrowing. 

Eventually Steve relented and you watched him step away from both you and Billy, now gripping Nancy’s hand. You barely noticed Billy turn back to you, until his hand softly grasped your chin, and brought your attention towards him. “So? What do you say?”

In your mind, you couldn’t help and think about the way Steve had grasped Nancy’s hand and the feeling that burned within you. Without thinking, you nodded; “sounds great.”


Friday reached sooner than you thought it would and before you knew it, it was the night of the party and you hadn’t even mentioned the idea to your father yet. You were sat in your room, and you’d just made dinner for your father. You knew he’d be in his room for the rest of the night and hopefully wouldn’t come and see you at any point, but knowing him he usually didn’t.

You stared down at your attire, the same thing you always wore and wondered why you hadn’t thought this through further. Not only now did you have to sneak out for the night, through your window, you didn’t have a costume either and you knew Billy would question it when he arrived. You’d even told him that day a different address then your actual house so your father wouldn’t see his headlights.

You’d never snuck out before and honestly you were greatly questioning your decision to say yes. You didn’t really have a decision, thinking about it now,but the thought of sneaking out, and not being there if your father was to come into your room greatly scared you. You’d never hear the end of it or never feel the end of it if he were to catch you, especially if he found out a boy came to pick you up.

You bounced your knee in spot from your position on your bed, glancing at the time every few minutes. You were suppose to meet Billy outside your neighbours house at six thirty and it was now six twenty-five, meaning you should probably start heading out. Ignoring the feeling that welled within your stomach, you slowly and quietly opened your bedroom door and glanced out into the hallway. Where, thankfully, you could see the lights from the tv in your father’s bedroom flashing, meaning he was distracted.

You took one final deep breath, closing the door quietly behind you and heading to the window. You slid open your window, ignoring the fear that welled within you and stepped out onto the the roof. You crawled on top, closing the window just before it fully shut and begun crawling out to the edge of the roof. Carefully you swung your body out so you hung by the roof and dropped onto the grass in front of your house. Once you were safe on solid ground, you gazed up into your bedroom to see if the light had turned on or any indication that your father had noticed you leaving, and sighed out in relief when you saw nothing.

Nodding to yourself, you faintly let a smile slip over your lips at the fact that you’d managed to sneak out and not get caught; yet. Making your way through your tiny front yard, you stopped in front of your neighbours just as Billy’s car appeared. You swallowed the lump in your throat, ignoring the voice in the back of your head that told you this was mistake and made your way to his car.

You slipped into the passengers seat and almost immediately noticed the frown on Billy’s lips when he saw your attire. Pulling at your oversized sweater you frowned; “I don’t have a costume.”

You met Billy’s eye and watched him pause in thought for a moment, and thats when you noticed his costume. Billy wore a leather jacket with no shirt underneath the jacket, paired with black jeans. You hated to admit it and even felt ashamed, but he looked good.

“You got a shirt underneath that sweater?” Bill asked, stunning you for moment. Though, eventually you nodded. “Great. Take the sweater off.”

“W-What?”

“The sweater.” He grinned at you, a hint of lust behind his eyes. “Take it off. I’ve got a plan.” You paused once again, unsure of what you should do. If you took off your sweater, Billy was bound to see the marks on your arms but from the look in his eyes, it seemed he was determined and wasn’t going to let you go in the clothes you wore. Sighing, you slowly pulled off your sweater, handing it to Billy as he threw it in the back and reached for something else.

All you wore underneath was white t-shirt and on your legs, you wore black jeans. Crossing your arms across your chest, you tried to ignore the uncomfortable feeling that welled within you, and waited for Billy to get whatever he was searching for. Just then he threw a dark coloured jean jacket a top of your lap and smirked your way.

You slipped the jacket over top of yourself, it was much too big but it covered your arms and Billy never managed to see the bruises which was plus. Turning to Billy, you felt yourself smile a little as you saw his gaze.

“There. Now we’re matching.”


Part 4?

Let me know below!

Promise

He finds Lance waiting on his bed for him when he returns to his room, and can tell from a single glance that Lance knows. That somehow— either because Matt or Coran told him, or because he just understands Keith that well, even after so many months apart— Lance knows exactly what happened while Voltron was fleeing Naxzela. What Keith had been prepared to sacrifice. What he’d nearly done.

Lance looks up at the hiss of the door sliding shut. He hasn’t even changed out of his paladin armor. Not fully. His arm guards and chest plate have been removed and discarded on the floor, but otherwise he looks just as he did when Voltron finally reached the Castle again— singed, disheveled, and staring at Keith with large, mournful eyes.

Keith can’t bring himself to meet those eyes. They’re even more blue than Keith remembers, and so full of hurt it makes Keith’s chest ache. Lance should never have to look that way about anything. Particularly not because of him.

Keith turns away and takes his time removing his black, Marmora armor. He can’t bear to see Lance so upset. Can’t stand the heavy silence between them. The thick tension just waiting to snap. Can’t stand it at all, but also can’t think of anything to say to dispel it. Words were never his forte, after all. He was much better with actions. Except, this time, his actions are what’s causing this situation, and he doesn’t quite know how to handle it.

He hangs his armor in his closet— the one spot of black among all the red and white he’s so used to wearing. A visual reminder of all he’s left behind. All he’s given up so his team can keep moving forward. Across the room, Lance shifts. He shifts, and he clears his throat, and Keith closes his eyes, waiting, as always, for Lance to cut through the tension. For the berate that’s surely on his tongue. For the angry words and endless rants he’s come to expect from Lance.

It doesn’t come, though. When Lance finally speaks, it isn’t loud, or enraged, or anything Keith’s used to. It’s soft, instead. So soft he barely hears it. And so rough and broken it nearly breaks his heart.

“Keith,” Lance murmurs, voice shaking even over that single word. “Why?” Why did you leave? Why did you abandon us? Why did you give up? “You glorious, reckless idiot. Why did you do it?”

Why did you almost let yourself die?

Keith swallows thickly. “Something had to be done,” he answers. “It was the only choice.” He glances over his shoulder at Lance and gives him a sad smile. “After all, the universe needs Voltron. It doesn’t need me.”

“We need you,” Lance protests, standing. He crosses the room in three quick strides and turns Keith to face him, hands gripping Keith’s shoulders like iron vices, and the most serious expression Keith’s ever seen across his face. “I need you.”

And if that isn’t the most ridiculous thing Keith’s ever heard. Because if either of them needs the other, it’s not Lance. It’s not this boy who shines so brilliantly, who is everything Keith has ever wanted to be and more, who could probably charm the whole universe into peace if he really put his mind to it.

Keith’s smile turns wry and he shakes his head. “No you don’t, Lance,” he says, emphatically because he needs Lance to understand. “You don’t need me. Just look at everything you’ve done.” Look at all the people you’ve saved and inspired and encouraged in a way that I never could.

It’s not enough to convey everything Keith thinks about Lance, of course, but he honestly doesn’t think any words in the English language (or any language, even) will ever be enough. There’s no way to describe the way Lance shines in his element. The obvious joy he brings to his flying, and the fierce passion that flares through his fighting. The excitement he exhibits whenever they find a new ally. The way he draws people to him without any actual effort. The way he cares and protects and gives hope wherever he goes.

He’s a much better paladin than he gives himself credit for, and much more valuable to the team than Keith ever could be. Keith’s absence over the past few months has proven that. Has shown Voltron can continue, and even thrive, without him. That they would continue to do so even if Keith had died. They’d still have their heart, after all— it’s right there inside Lance. He’s the drive that pushes them all forward, and the glue that holds them all together, and if Keith can keep that alive by sacrificing himself, he doesn’t consider death too great a loss.

Clearly, however, Lance doesn’t agree. “That’s not what I meant,” he chokes out, voice watery and blue eyes shining with unshed tears. “That’s not what I meant at all, you idiot. This isn’t about the team, or Voltron, or even the whole goddamn universe.” His hands shift, sliding across Keith’s shoulders and up his neck to cup his face. Keith fights not to lean into the warmth of Lance’s hands, but when Lance gently tilts his head back he knows it’s a lost cause. He’s so weak to the man standing in front of him. Weaker still to the way his bright blue eyes bore into Keith, more intense than they’ve ever been before. More urgent. More desperate. More filled with longing.

“I’m your right-hand man, aren’t I?” Lance asks softly, so close now that Keith can feel his warm breath against this skin. “We’re in this together, you and me. I’d follow you to ends of the universe. So just please,” he pleads. “Please. Promise me you won’t go where I can’t follow.”

And how can Keith say no to that?

The tears are falling down Lance’s cheeks now, wet streaks against his dark skin. And, this time, seeing Lance so upset over him, over the near loss of him, Keith’s heart does break. It cracks and shatters under the weight of Lance’s grief, and Keith already knows it will never fully recover. Even if he tries to tape it back together and pretend it’s all alright, there will still be fragments missing— little shards that will belong to Lance, and Lance alone, whether Lance realizes that or not.

Keith closes his eyes and lets out a long breath. He turns his head into Lance’s hand, pressing his lips lightly against Lance’s skin, and if Lance is surprised by the gesture, he doesn’t show it. Doesn’t try to pull away or even protest.

“Ok,” he murmurs against Lance’s hand. “Ok, Lance. I promise.”

He’d do much more for Lance if Lance ever asked it of him, but supposes this promise is a good place to start. And when Lance smiles for the first time all day, and then pulls Keith into a tight embrace, he wonders why he ever thought leaving was a good idea. Lance’s arms are warm around him, more comforting than anything Keith’s ever known, and beneath the palm Keith’s spread flat against Lance’s back, he feels the faint, steady thump of Lance’s heart. Takes comfort in the fact that Lance is alive and well and right there with him. Takes comfort in the fact that Keith himself is still alive to feel it.

And, for now, that is enough.

Time to float - Bill Skarsgard x Reader

Title: Time to float

Pairing: Bill Skarsgard x Reader

Warnings: None

Prompts: If you’re taking requests for Bill Skarsgård can you write one where the reader is a famous actress and also little Jackson Scott’s big sister (the kid who plays Georgie) so she attends the premiere with him wearing a stunning dress as usual, she meets Bill who is awestruck bc hes a huge fan with a massive crush on her, the kids who played in the movie myb tease him a little bit, and she’s flattered and thinks hes adorable idk i like this idea 
— 
YN is Jackson older sister and Bill is her fan!so when he finds out he tries his best to get Jackson to introduce them,and when he does,Jackson can’t help and teels big sis that Bill has a crush on her and he’s just super adorkable to admit! later they all say that on an interview,and the kids love to make fun of them

“Jackson please don’t run! Be careful, sweetie, you’re gonna-” you stopped yourself when you heard you little brother giggle and you realized what you’d just said “Oh gosh I am turning into mom!” you breathed out, eyes wide.

Your little brother ran back to you, wrapping his small arms around your legs and you looked down to be met with his adorable smile “Yes you are! But I am always going to love you the most! More than mom and dad, and more than anyone else in the world!” he said and you giggled.

“And you will always be the number one man in my heart, JR!” you leaned down to pick him up and kiss his cheek as he wrapped his arms around your neck with a big smile.

“Even before dad?” he asked and you grinned, nodding your head.

“But we’re not gonna tell him that, because it’s gonna break his heart.” you pouted, and he giggled.

“You bet it will!” your father piped in, saying with a serious nod and you laughed with Jackson as he kissed your cheek before going to help your mother.

“And… even more than him?” he said with what was supposed to be a smirk on his face and you chuckled, tickling his belly.

“You sly little tease!” you grinned as he squirmed in your arms “Alright, maybe I really do like him a little bit but-”

He rolled his eyes so dramatically at you and shook his head “A lot!”

Keep reading

Who Do You Love

Many of us, like hounds with a scent, have honed in on that one part of the Qstiel line: “I know who you love…”

But there’s a problem with taking a single line out of context: it’s easy to mold it into whatever we want to believe. Non-shippers can make a convincing argument that that one line is about Cas’ platonic love for several people just as easily as a shipper can argue that line is about singular and romantic love. 

No matter who you are, what you believe, we HAVE to rewind and look at the FULL CONTEXT. And the full context is whittled down to romantic love. From what we know from canon and from the symbolism, we can easily surmise that Qstiel is referring to a singular and romantic love. 

———————

CAS: SAM AND DEAN NEED ME.

Qstiel: “Oh save it.”
             
            Qstiel is calling bullshit. What has the narrative of the show been trying to define? Singular versus plural. Romantic versus platonic. And here’s Cas using the excuse that the brothers, as a unit, need him in order to get Qstiel to send him back home.

            Qstiel wants Cas to stop lying to himself. This isn’t about Sam. And Cas has no idea if he’s needed. Now Cas does want to be wanted, but only by one human (which we gather from the rest of what is said). It’s time for everyone to appropriately use we/I, us/me, them/him. 

Qstiel: “I have tiptoed through all your little tulips.”

            Let me save some time and space: read the lyrics to the song here. Flowers are a major symbolic tool in Supernatural. Out of all the things Qstiel could liken Cas’ thoughts to and it’s about TULIPS. Tulips represent true/perfect love with a mythology based on star-crossed lovers, one of which SAILS OFF A CLIFF… uhhh… Dabb? Is that a toss to: “So what, I’m Thelma and you’re Louise and we’re just gonna hold hands and sail off this cliff together?”.

            So basically, out of everything Qstiel could glean from Cas’ mind, he picks apart Cas’ ROMANTIC THOUGHTS. He doesn’t pick up on power-hungry Godstiel and use that against Cas. He doesn’t talk about Cas’ life before the Winchesters or even about being an angel. Nope, he brings up the tulips (true love) and in the next breath: memories and feelings.  

Qstiel: “…your memories, your little feelings, yes.“

            This is the second time he says ‘little’. Little tulips = little feelings. Of course, they’re not actually little, especially to an angel. Feelings are a big deal! Using the word ‘little’ is a mockery to Cas’ love. It’s another way to try and make Cas himself feel stupid for thinking his love could be returned (Qstiel mocks Cas’ intelligence several times). 

            Listen to Qstiel’s tone, too. He’s airing out Cas’ dirty little secret, in a mocking tone and with exaggerated facial expressions. There is no reason to taunt a platonic love. Qstiel is the bully dangling Cas’ deepest secret to use as a weapon against him. He’s mentally, emotionally and physically abusive to Cas in their scenes.

            And I don’t know about you, but when I had a secret love or crush, I kept it close to my heart. I would have been mortified had someone violated my mind and treated me like Cas is being treated here. Any other loves (familial, friendships) aren’t a secret and aren’t taboo. If just friends, just bros, it wouldn’t be a big deal.

Qstiel: “I know what you hate. (whispering) I know who you love. What you fear.”

            Qstiel didn’t say, “I know you love them.” He didn’t say, “I know those you love.” Everything in these statements is singular and yet packed with complexity: Cas hates not being with Dean, whom he loves, and he fears his love is unrequited. What fear is there in love unless it is a love with great risk to one’s heart?           

Qstiel: “There is nothing for you back there, no.”

            How can Qstiel get Cas to shut up, lay down and go back to sleep? Why, show him all of the horrible things he has gone through in the name of that (singular) love, of course. Make him believe it is one-sided and not worth fighting to go back to, make him believe his worst fear is truth. Qstiel is lying to Cas here. 

———————

After Cas mentions Sam and Dean, it isn’t, “Oh I know you love them but they don’t love you back.” No, it was, “You think you can fool me into thinking Sam and Dean need you? We both know the truth because I saw inside your head and I saw the ONE you love but it’s a shame he doesn’t love you back. Just go to sleep and forget about him.”


This entire scene was also another, “You have to choose: us or them,” moment for Cas, which of course is also in the singular. Cas can choose himself or he can choose to go back to Dean.  

Just as Cas faced Metatron, Naomi, Hannah and other angels, he also faced Qstiel, a cosmic entity masquerading in his God-given body/image and told him to FUCK OFF.

Despite the shit he’s gone through, despite the pain and sorrow, despite possible unrequited love… he still chooses Dean. His LOVE for Dean PIERCES THE VEIL OF DEATH so he can return to him.

It’s always been about one human.
Dean is Cas’ weakness.
It is all canon and it’s gorgeous.

I wholeheartedly believe this LOVE Qstiel is speaking of is singular, romantic and about Dean. 



~TheTwistedWillow~
11.03.2017

Corner of the Coffee Shop

Prompt: ‘Soulmate’ for @just-some-drabbles ‘s writing challenge! (no summary because the prompt says it all)

Pairing: Bucky x Reader

Word Count: 2073 words

Warnings: fluff, hardly any angst. 

Notes: Thank you so much to my love @untimelyideasforstories for helping me come up with ideas for this story, you saved my ass <3 I also didn’t proofread this, it’s 10:40pm and I have a French test tomorrow argh

Originally posted by marvel-dirtbag

Soulmates, true love, first kisses, those are all things you were told to believe. The first one was real enough, as everyone in the world was born with a permanently inked mark, somewhere on their body. Yours was plainly put into sight, right on the inside of your left wrist. From person to person, their mark differed in handwriting, but it always read the same thing; the date of your soulmate’s birth. Your soulmark was scrawled in a delicate yet slightly messy script, which didn’t really bother you. Your friend could barely read her one, it was that chaotic. But it was the actual words that bothered you, which made you lose faith in having a soulmate that was actually alive.

‘10th of March, 1917.’

Keep reading

Knight in Shining Armor (Steve Harrington x Female Reader)

Requested by: @cometoceantrenches ( Okie since you take requests, is it okay if you write smth with our boi Steve where the reader drops off their younger sister at the Snow Ball the same time Steve drops off Dustin but Steve offers to take the reader home but they end up at a cafe or smth and talk abt the crazy stuff that happened (fighting the demodogs and all that) and end up confessing to each other?? im sorry if its long af, you just write rlly well *ugly cries*)

Summary: While waiting for the Snow Ball to end, Steve and you catch up at a local cafe where they recount the events of the demo-dogs, and then conversation becomes personal.

Word Count: 3013

Warnings: fluffy af and some smooches. Also get’s a bit emotional towards the end. lets also assume he’s always ooc to me

Note: if there is another gif that kills me it’s also this one!  I kind of just a little went overboard and it’s pretty long but I HOPE YOU LIKE IT! Enjoy!!!

Minor Spoilers of Season 2!!

Originally posted by mikkeljensen

“Do I look okay?” your sister Jen asked for the 100th time from the backseat of your mother’s car. You rolled your eyes, not even bothering to look at her.

“You look great, Jen,” you replied.

“You didn’t even look!” she cried.

For perhaps the third time you spun yourself around to take a look at your sister who was all dolled up and ready for the Snow ball.

“You look beautiful, now stop asking and stop touching your hair,” you slapped her hand away lightly, she flinched and grumbled. You knew she had a crush on one of the boys there, she just wouldn’t tell you who it was. But by how nervous she was, and how she was acting, you knew what was bothering her.

“Hey…whoever this boy you’re crushing over…he’s gonna think you’re the most beautiful girl in the room okay? And he’s going to ask you to dance,” you said, fixing her hair for her. Jen blushed.

“And if he doesn’t?”

You scoffed, “Then he’s a damn idiot, and you’re too good for him,” Jen let out a laugh. Your mother glanced at you two before pulling up in front of the school, behind another car who was dropping off their kid.

Unfortunately for you, your mother had wanted you to stick around the parking lot all night and wait for the Snow ball to end. Also, it was really, really cold out there. But, you didn’t want your mom to worry over Jen all night, so you agreed to stay. You would find something to do, even if that included freezing to death.

Death. Hah. That word honestly didn’t even faze you that much anymore, not after what had occurred in the past month. Images of alien like dog creatures Dustin had called ‘Demo-dogs’ flashed through your mind, especially of the one he called ‘Dart’ who nearly chewed your face off. And then there was that girl with the slicked back hair who everyone seemed to recognize except for you and Steve. Apparently, she had superpowers and helped close the gate and saved the world or something. You honestly didn’t know what to believe, or even do with all this newfound information.

You guessed life would just go on eventually, and somehow you’d manage to live past it.

You stood next to your sister, both of you waving good-bye to your mother, who yelled, “Have a good time and be safe!” before driving off and out of the drop-off zone. Jen sighed, flattening down her light pink dress.

“Are you really going to stay out here all night?” Jen asked as you both walked towards the entrance, you shrugged.

“It’ll be fun- staying out here all by myself in the freezing cold in order to avoid my past middle school teachers trying to catch up with me,” Jen laughed, stopping in front of the entrance and turning to face you.

“Are you sure I look okay, (y/n)?”

You glared slightly at her, pretty sure she’s just taking in the compliments, but you just smiled and held a thumbs up. Jen was about to speak before her eyes caught something behind you. Her cheeks suddenly turned the same color as her dress. You raised a brow, and turned around, seeing who had made her all flustered.

“Dustin?” you asked, the younger boy was surprised to see you here, but not as surprised as you when you saw how much his hair looked super familiar.

“What are you doing here, (y/n)?” he asked, you tore your eyes from his hair and pointed behind you.

“Just dropping off Jen-” but when you turned around, she was gone and already in the gym. You blinked, huffing slightly as you realized that Dustin was the boy she was so keen on. You laughed lightly, thinking that it was the cutest thing ever.

Your mind went back to Dustin’s hairstyle the moment you looked back at him.

“Okay- tell me right now…is Steve your role model or something?” You asked, jokingly. Dustin gave you an annoyed look before you chuckled, “You look great kiddo, now go in there and for the love of god find Jen and ask her to dance,” you winked. Dustin furrowed his eyebrows.

“Wait- what? really?”

You clicked your tongue before your eyes went to the car Dustin had gotten out of. Your jaw dropped when you instantly recognized it as Steve’s. Dustin noticed your excitement and gave a smug smile.

“He’s staying because he saw you and is hoping you’ll go over there to talk or something,” he said nonchalantly, you side-glanced Dustin, seeing him look at the car and wave. You can just feel Steve’s glare on the kid. You merely laughed it off.

“Don’t you have a ball to attend, kid?” you asked, Dustin cursed softly and walked into the entrance, muttering something about asking Jen to dance, a cheeky grin on his face. You shook your head, crossing your arms against your chest before turning and starting to walk over to Steve’s car.

You leaned down to his open window, a toothy grin and asked, “Is that you Steve? My knight in shining armor?” Steve smiled at the sight of you, and waved your comment off.

“Yeah, the one and only,” he responded, knowing you were referring to when he saved you from losing your face to some demo-dog, “Are you going to head home?”

You shook your head.

“Gotta stay here until it ends and make sure Jen is still alive after or something,” you shrugged, Steve laughed.

“Oh no- that’s not okay,” he said, “As your knight in shining armor, I’m going to save you from freezing to death…” he reached over and opened the car door, his other hand still resting on the wheel. You put your hand over your heart.

“Wow…what a gentlemen,” you commented as you climbed into his car, Steve shrugged, eyes still resting on you. You didn’t notice the way he stared at you, like Dustin had noticed when Steve pulled up and saw you.

“That’s what I am, didn’t you know?”

You just hummed, hugging your arms closer to you. Steve noticed, eying your shivering form before an idea popped in his mind.

“Wanna go get a warm drink or something?” he asked, you tilted your head in thought.

“Warm drink? You mean like coffee?” you asked, a playful glint in your eyes.Steve stared at you for a moment, before realizing how stupid he must sound.

“I said that…” he muttered. You snickered, but nodded.

“Yeah, I could go for a warm drink…” Steve cracked a smile, eyes still lingering on yours before starting his car. When he looked away as he began to drive out of the parking lot, you looked at the side of his face, thinking you saw a shade of pink on his cheeks…but it was too dark.

Keep reading

The Seneschal

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

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


Earth it is, then.

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

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

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

‘Why do we need these…hydrosonic things?’

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

'Hulk bored.’

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

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

'Hulk bored.’

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

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

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

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

'Hulk BORED!’

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

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

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

'A seneschal,’ Heimdall finished.

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

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

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

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

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

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

'As you wish.’

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

'Y/N!’

She inclined her head in a half bow.

'Your majesty.’

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

'Then who are you?’

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

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

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

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

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

He laughed outright at her.

'Your help, as always!’

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

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

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

'You’re too kind, Lord Heimdall.’

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

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

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

'Oh, wonderful,’ Loki muttered.

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

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

'What sort of quantities?’

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

Y/N rolled her eyes.

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

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

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

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

'Do you see why we need you?’

*

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

Y/N was alive.

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

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

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

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

'Y/N.’

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

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

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

'I’m not angry with you.’

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

'I’m hurt.’

'What?’ That made him look up at her.

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

'I know.’

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

'Left?’

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

He blinked, confused.

'Why?’

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

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

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

'Everything and…you’re sorry.’

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

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

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

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

'I’ve missed you, too.’

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

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

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

'Yes, we’d better.’

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

Cast enough illusions and you risk forgetting what is real.

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

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

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

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

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

“My beloved king.”

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

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

*

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

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

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

'Orphans?’

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

'The mention of children is perhaps timely.’

Thor’s grin vanished instantly, replaced by bewilderment.

'Eh?’

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

'A wife?’

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

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

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

'I think I’ll decide if-’

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Hur hur hur. Thor bad at girls.’

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

*

'You said you needed to speak with me?’

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

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

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

'Fair enough. Uh, do you mind if I-’

'Of course not.’

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Me?’

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

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

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

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

That doesn’t sound good.

'Oh. Uh, me. Thor, I mean. Always.’

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

He blinked.

'You mean – you’re saying no?’

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

'Oh, thank god!’

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

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

She burst into giggles.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

'But I want to know!’

'Tough!’

'I’m your king!’

'I don’t care!’

*

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

Oh, wonderful.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

*

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

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

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

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

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

She laughed.

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

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

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

'Eh?’

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

'You won’t give up, will you?’

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

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

Thor felt his jaw drop.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

*

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

Yes?’

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

'Brother! There you are!’

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

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

'How wonderful for you.’

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

'I’m not interested.’

'You should be.’

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

'She told me who he is.’

'I don’t care.’

'I don’t believe you.’

'Good for you.’

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

'No, I’m not.’

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

What?’

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

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

'It’s you.’

’-what?’

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

He looked away and constructed a shrug.

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

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

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

Yes, that must be it.

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

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

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

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

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

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

There was no lie in Thor’s eyes.

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

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

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

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

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

'I still will.’

That made him look up, and his brows creased.

'What?’

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

'What are you doing?’

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

A guarded tension stiffened her shoulders.

'Oh?’

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

'Yes. All of it.’

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

'You…truly don’t care?’

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

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

'That’s very true.’

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

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

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

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

'Tell me every day,’ she replied softly.

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

*

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

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

Short Stuff

Summary: Y/N has problems reaching the handlebar on the train so she finds another suitable way to stay upright.

AN: i’m sorry this isn’t inclusive ahsjasj but this was such a cute idea i couldn’t help it  :( also i’m short as fuck if you didn’t know so this is a dream

Peter Parker x Reader

// Masterlist //


Originally posted by tomshollandss

My foot tapped along to the beat of the music rushing through my ears. People around me were either on their phone or talking to someone as we waited for the train to arrive. I shoved my hands into my pockets to warm them up from the chill of the wind.

Eventually, the train arrived but I soon found that it was more crowded than usual. All the poles that I usually held onto were occupied and the only things left were the handlebars up above. Which I was too short to grab hold of.

Keep reading

you had me at ‘i’

premise: (name) and steve try to figure out their feelings in strange ways, that inlcude dating people they don’t like. feat cheerleading!

PAIRING: steve harrington x reader, (slight!)billy hargrove x reader 

a/n: i like cheerleaders ok??? kinda was feeling rly bad abt my writing since i felt that it was not that good so i tried rly hard on this one hope it shows xoxo i will continue to try and work even harder. sorry for being slow on requests
also, requested:  can I request an imagine where Steve doesn’t get along with you but in the inside he likes you, (anon) /  heeeey i love your writing so much!!!! can i request one with steve harrington where you’re a cheerleader and steve starts dating one of your teammates and get jealous? thank youu ily (anon)

if you like my stuff and want to support me, don’t forget to treat me to a KO-FI! take part in the 7K followers gift HERE!

MASTERLIST.

Spring sun shines brightly overhead; soft wind gushes past delicate thighs and pinches at the hems of bright red skirts. The playing field is mostly empty of spectators, just a few younger girls, with awe in their eyes, and a couple of football and basketball players watching the cheerleading squad finish their perfect routine without a hitch. Voices of the girls in pigtails die down into harsh breaths as they wipe away drops of sweat from the arches of their brows and the flats of their foreheads. Some high-five as congratulations, some wave flirtatiously at the boys and they wave back.

“Good job, girls! See you tomorrow, same time, same place.”

With a sharp inhale you fix your white shoelaces and wordlessly accept an offer of water from one of your teammates, Suzy. As you stand up a whiff of your perfume mixed with a tint of sweat greets your nose and you can hardly wait to hit the showers. Your eyes wander around. You see the boys, ones that were so intently watching you and your girls, now approach. Among them is Billy Hargrove – of course he’d be checking you out – and surprise surprise…Steve Harrington.

Keep reading

Thin Mints and Menthol (Steve Harrington x Reader)

This is now a series!

PART 2   PART 3

Pairings: Steve Harrington x Reader

Summary: It’s set a year after Season 2 has finished and you’re a senior in high school who’s often getting into trouble with the law for petty crimes. And Hopper usually gets you out of trouble. Then one night the new officer Steve Harrington joins him.

Words: 1.7k (YIKES)

Warnings: Mild swearing, mild mentions of smoking, hints towards abuse. Slightly OOC Steve

A/N: Okay so this is the first time I’ve ever written anything so please go easy on me, I just love Steve and I’ve had this idea in my head for a few days so I had to write it down.


You sit on the cold step outside the gas station. Mr Pritchard stood looming over you smugly, as the Chevrolet Blazer pulls up, ‘Hawkins Police Dept.’ printed on the side. Parking itself roughly. Chief Hopper steps out of the vehicle quickly reaching into his pocket to his packet of cigarettes, he removes one and places into his mouth. He walks over to you whilst sparking up. There’s a ghost of a smile playing on his lips. The passenger door suddenly opens, startling you, it was usually just Hopper himself who dealt with you.

Steve Harrington? That’s new. You chuckle slightly as he walks to join Hopper stood before you. He’s staring at you in confusion. You scoff and hang your head. “This is the third time this month you’ve been caught shoplifting (Y/N).” Hopper says as he blows smoke out of his mouth. “I’m starting to think you’re enjoying the excitement.” He chuckles.

“I’d raise my hands in defeat if this asshole,” you say jerking your head towards Mr Pritchard “hadn’t tied my arms in front of me with fucking rope.” Hopper glares at Pritchard, the old man crosses his arms in defiance to Hopper. He huffs slightly and begins to explain to Hopper that you had been trying to run away. Bullshit. Everyone knew you didn’t run once you were caught. As Hopper and him get into an argument you lean back and glance at Steve as he’s scribbling furiously in a notepad. The khaki coloured uniform he’s wearing looks freshly starched, his name tag shines under the glare of the street-lights. His hair is pushed back and looks neat, except for the strand that’s fallen out of place. It bounces in time with his writing.

“You, er, don’t need to do that”

“Huh?” He says stopping mid-word on the page. He stares at you confusedly.

“He never presses charges against me. I usually just get a two week ban.” You tell him, grinning. A small smile tugs at his lips. “That’s what you get for shoplifting a packet of Salem's’ I guess.”

Salem’s? Refreshing. Wouldn’t have pinned you for a menthol kind of girl” You both laugh. “Well, Hop- I mean, the Chief told me I should write everything down…” He says placing the pen in between the pages. He closes the notepad, holding it in his left hand. He stands awkwardly waiting slightly too close to Hopper. You’re shocked, since when did Steve Harrington want to be a cop? It was unusual to say the least, you always figured he’d end up at an Ivy League college. Yet here he was standing before you looking slightly uncomfortable. He’d been in the grade above you, and was ten times more popular than you were. The ‘King’. That was till Nancy Wheeler broke up with him, started dating the Byers kid, and he faded into obscurity. You’d still see him in passing but he’d mainly kept to himself focusing on his studies, always in the library. You’d heard rumors he was friends with some fourteen year olds, but you didn’t know him well enough to find out if they were true or not.

“Do want me to untie you?”

“What?” You ask as you realize you hadn’t been paying attention.

“The rope. Do you want me to untie it?” He asks again. You look at his hands. His notepad, you notice, is safely stowed away in his breast pocket.

“Oh, sure. Yeah, please. That would be great.” You say stuttering over your words slightly. You internally kicked yourself. You can’t believe you’re getting nervous over Steve fucking Harrington of all people. He bends down slightly, you’re inches apart, you can feel his breath on your cold hands as he reaches for them. You lift them up slightly from your lap. He starts to try and unknot the large knot that Pritchard had tied it with. He pauses and looks up at you, smirking. He lowers his voice.

“Now, you’re not going to dash the moment it’s unravelled are you?”

“On my honour.” You whisper. You smile at him.

“Oh, were you a Girl Scout.” He asks as he starts to work on untying you again.”

“Unwillingly, but yeah I was for about five years. Prettttttttttty sure, I sold you some Thin Mints once.” You told him struggling back a laugh.

“What, really? How old are you?” He moves his hands away from yours. You grin at him.

“I’m seventeen, but my birthdays in a week. I figured you wouldn’t recognize me.” He snickers quietly and slowly begins to tackle the knot again. You watch his hands move across the rope, grazing your wrists lightly, sending shivers up your arms.

“No I’m afraid I don’t think I’ve seen you around, I know I’d remember if I had someone like you before.” You look up at lock eyes with him. The rope around your wrists falls into your lap. Steve takes both your wrists in his hands and looks and the marks left on them. He rubs the rope burn with his left thumb. His brow furrowed, he opens his mouth as if to say something.

“Alright! I won’t press any further charges, just tell her that she needs to stay off of my property. For good this time, I’m giving her a permanent ban!” You both gaze up at the two men who had been having a heated debate about your actions.

“That seems fair. You hear that (Y/N)? You’re permanently banned from this gas station.” Hopper tells you whilst Steve helps you to your feet. “Permanent means no entry, and no sneaking in with a hat and sunglasses on like you did at the convenience store down street. Steve glances down at you with an amused look etched across his face. 

“You really did that?” He says questioning you.

“I thought it was a good idea at the time. I was very mistaken.” You tell him with a huff as you fold your arms, the temperature had dropped quite drastically. He leans his head back laughing, his hair moves like it has a mind of its own.You stare at him in awe. He is annoyingly pretty. You think to yourself. Boys like him shouldn’t be so pretty.

You bite your lip to stop yourself from joining him in his laughing fit. Instead you peer over at The Chief who’s not paying attention and is instead staring at his watch. He walks up to you and gently takes you by the arm and leads you towards the vehicle.

“We need to be leaving, its 9pm and I need to pick up El- I mean, Jane from Mike’s after dropping (Y/N) at her house.” He tells Steve who nods and makes his way over to the car, he gets in and you can see he’s still beaming. “See you later Fred.” Hopper says to Mr Pritchard as he opens the door for you.

“Bye Fred!” You say as Hopper pushes you into his car. Mr Pritchard walks into the gas station ignoring your exaggerated goodbye.The door slams behind him the car shaking slightly. He puts the keys into the ignition and sets off driving in the direction of your house. The mood in the car is some what hostile. You go to make a smart remark to relieve tension, but Hopper stops you.

“Whatever you’re about to say (Y/N), save it. This is your final warning. Like I said earlier this is the third time this month that someone’s stopped you shoplifting. I’m sure you’ve done it more you just haven’t been caught. I’m worried about you kid.” He gazes at you in the rear-view mirror, you turn away so you don’t make eye contact. “Next time I pick you up, you’re going to be in handcuffs. You understand?” You nod, there’s a prick behind your eye. Tears begin to well up in your eyes.

“I’m sorry… Sir.” The air is suddenly as icy as it is outside, despite the heating sputtering it’s warm breath around the car. You zone out and begin to stare outside, watching houses as they pass by. Wondering if their teenagers were as troublesome as you were. You’re startled as a tear falls onto your cheek, you quickly go to scrub your eyes. Uncaring if you smudge the eye make-up you have on. You didn’t want to let Hopper down, he’d looked out for you each time there had been an incident. And yet you knew he was serious this time despite always telling you it was the final time he was clearing up after your messes. Somehow the presence of Steve made you embarrassed. Why do I even care? I don’t even know him. You think to yourself. And yet looking at the wing mirror and seeing him give you a reassuring smile was comforting, you return it sadly and turn to stare out the window again.

As the car drove up to your house the lump in your throat grew. It was fear. Fear of what was waiting for you at home. The lights were on meaning you were in for a rough ride. You sit forward as the car draws to a halt. Wincing as your hand touches the cool metal of the handle.

“Tell your old man to go easy on you.” Hopper says to you. Without turning to face him you open the door getting out.

“Thanks for the ride boys.” You say plastering a fake smile across your lips as you slam the door shut. The grin instantly drops from you face as you make your way up to you red front door. You can feel both Jim and Steve’s eyes watching you.

“Do you think you could get me any of those Thin Mints? I’ve got a real craving!” You hear Steve shout to you. Turning to face him, he’s beaming from ear to ear. You start laughing, you flash him the middle finger and give him a sarcastic smile as you close the door. Blocking you off from the world. You place your hands on the door and lift your eye to the peep hole to watch as Hopper’s car rolls out of sight. You sigh as you hear angry footsteps approach you. Grabbing at your arm, pulling it from the door.

“And where the fuck have you been?”


Part 2?????