kings please thank

Why I'm going to die alone
  • Friend: What do you look for in a guy?
  • Me: Well... someone kind, brave, strong willed, tall, muscular, black hair, golden eyes, often torn between what is right in his gut and what he must do for his kingdom, can control and manipulate fire, goes by the name Cal.
  • Friend: ...
  • Me: I'm going to die alone.

Drabble Request: @roxy-davenport : Heya. If you’re still taking prompts I’m going to be a greedy Crowley girl and request 48, 45 and 50 with my King, please. Thanks hun. Mwah!💋❤😀

48: “We’ve become the clingy couple that you used to complain about.”

45: “You look pretty hot in plaid.”  

50: “You know you want it, sweetheart.”

Pairing: Crowley x Reader

Warnings: Sexual tension/light content

Originally posted by lucifersagents

“This is ridiculous,” you muttered as you sauntered across the bar, a white crop top snug around your upper torso and a red and black plaid skirt stopping high on your thighs. The uniform was ridiculous, but you had to go undercover for a case. One of the regulars was a suspect the Winchesters were watching closely, so to keep an eye on him and not be suspicious you called in a favor from someone to get you a very brief job so that you could remain in the area.

“How’s work, love?”

You turned around upon hearing the familiar voice, immediately adopting an annoyed face as you met Crowley’s gaze. “Amazing. I totally enjoy having my ass stared at every time I walk by a table. Ohh, or even better, when I lean down to put plates on the table people look down my top,” you muttered as you set down the pitcher of beer you held in your hand.

Crowley crooked an eyebrow at your words, jaw tight for a millisecond before he broke into a smile and sat down at an empty table. “This isn’t ideal, I’m sure, but you do insist on helping those troublesome Winchesters.”

“Speaking of which …,” you trailed off as you read a text message from Sam. You lowered your phone and gestured for Crowley to follow you out back. “They’re going to meet us out here soon. They have a lead,” you told him as you stepped out into the alley behind the building, night having already fallen.

Crowley followed quietly, almost too quietly. Once the door closed, he reached forward to grab your hand, pulling you back to crash against his chest. “So, people have been checking out my girl?” He hummed roughly, eyes heavy on yours as his lips came close enough to brush yours teasingly. One hand was steady on your lower back, the other resting on your hip to hold you close.

Keep reading

I am haunted by the fragments of chaos in my eyes.
I am afraid that one day I will turn the heights of Rome to rubble and my own two hands will be all that’s left.
A phoenix, once again, desperately grasping at the fire inside of me and trying to become something living.
My reckless heartbeat leads me to danger and wildness against my will, it leads me to fear and villainy and darkness, where things are taken from me I can never get back.
Somehow, amidst it all, you remain, the only fortified wall of the cathedral that once crumbled beneath my fingertips.
Maybe we will be holy again.
The forest sings to me and I hear your voice in the darkness, calling me home, reminding me that I am more than this monster they have made me to be.
—  “When the cathedral crumbles, you are there to help me pick up the pieces.”
(m.b, a Ronan Lynch poem)

the people I used to love are turning into monsters // a mix about losing the people you love to the war you created [listen]

“You say you want to be king, so when I burn your kingdom down, I’ll be sure you’re still chained to the throne" 

i. warriors (imagine dragons) // ii. fall away (twenty on pilots) // iii. prayer of the refugee (rise against) // iv. your body is a machine (the good natured) // v. the sharpest lives (my chemical romance) // vi. soldiers (otherwise) // vii. paradise lost (hollywood undead) // viii. iscariot (walk the moon)


“Crowns are dear in England, son, but heads are cheap that wear them.”

→  THE  S H A D O W  OF THE  T O W E R  modern/remake version ; Freya Mavor and Michael Marcus as Elizabeth of York and Henry VII ; 10 episodes from 1485 to 1509 or the key events in the reign of Henry Tudor and his founding of the Tudor Dynasty.

Training (Roan x Reader)

Request: King Roan 6 please and thank you 

Prompt: “Everything down here can murder you but I can do it the most efficiently.” 

After begging and begging, Roan finally said yes to teaching you how to fight like a warrior. No one else’s advice helped. Sure you weren’t completely useless when it came to defending yourself but you’ve seen Roan fight and you want to know what he knows. Ever since you landed, death has been all around you and you can’t cope with the fact that you could die at any moment like Atom or Maya. Roan has you sitting down sharpening various knives, you finish the last one of the pile and smile up at him, “Done.” You say proudly and he turns around. His eyes look bored and annoyed as he turns around. 

“You’re not done yet.” He smirks and you look at him in disbelief. You flinch at the loud noise of Roan placing a surplus of weapons on top of the bench. More shit to clean? Really?

“Are you serious?” You exclaim, anger rushing through you, “I came here to learn how to fight not how to clean.” He silently turns around and you regret your sudden outburst; you’ve heard he has quite the temper.

“Fine, you want to learn how to fight properly?” He questions and you nod slowly, “Get up.” You do as he says, following him outside and into a small clearing away from the village. You look around at the beauty of it all. Earth never fails to amaze you and – 

“What are you doing?” You yell when Roan places a knife to your neck. You stay still and look at him, he’s unphased - not angry or concerned, “Get off.”

“Remember this next time you want to talk back to me,” he begins, whispering in your ear and you gulp nervously, “Everything down here can murder you but I can do it the most efficiently.” He continues and you feel an uneasy shiver run down your back, leaving you cold and shocked, 

Before Roan can say another word, you swing your leg back and kick him in the balls. He falls to the ground with a painful grunt. You cross your arms, kicking the knife that was  once held against you away and you smirk above him before you speak up, “Oh, I’d like to see you try.”


Continued from here.

As Jean began to rise, Mrs. Kirschtein mimicked the action. Remaining stagnant in place, her eyes tracked her son’s every step to the stairs as if he would melt in the floorboards — to never be seen again — should she look away. 

She was taken by surprise with her son’s sudden actions. Unsure as to the reason why he was dashing towards her, but every thought evaporated into the air when a warm body pressed against hers. Arms securely pulling her in as she raised her head to search his face for answers. Is he simply hugging me to apologize? She could not remember the last time her son had initiated a form of affection like this. However, there was no sensible rationale to question his actions when a feeling of jubilation bloomed in her chest like a rose on the first day of a warm spring morning; a feeling that enveloped her in a blanket of euphoria. Warmth started from her chest and traveled along every nerve to spread the delightful sentiment- the sentiment of being loved. The greatest feat for a mother —no, as a parent — is one of love from her child. The reassurance that she is and has fulfilled her duty of raising one of humanity’s greatest hopes to the best of her abilities. Tears welled in the corner of her eyes as she wrapped her arms around him to return the embrace. Eyes shut tightly and a trembling, sincere smile carving into her face at the gentle brush of Jean’s lips on her forehead; she thought her heart would rupture from the tenderness. This was a gesticulation of consolation; regardless of how much her son grew, despite all of the time spent apart, all the horrors her son witnessed, at the end of the day, he’d always be the sweet little boy who looked at her like she was the sun. After a moment of silence — a moment of enjoying and memorizing the ambiance of endearment — she spoke while rubbing her hands in a vertical motion across his back and pressing her ear against his beating heart, “It’s alright.