so this came out a little better than my other one i did

Notes to the girl whose house I live in

by reddit user JJX2525

It took me a week to find where you keep your wifi password. A whole week! I was really worried you’d thrown it away, but lo and behold, there it was in the cutlery drawer of all places. Everything about the way you organize things confuses me. I guess because you live on your own now you just put things any old place. I know there was someone else before, I heard you talking about him on the phone. Johnny, I think? Jimmy? Anyway, I know because you said it was tough being alone. But you’re not alone, of course. You have me!

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There’s a Ball?

So, this was a prompt. I have included the ask at the very end this time because I don’t want to give away the spoiler! Another one that was slightly longer than expected. Oh well. 

———————————–

            “Did you hear?” A boy whispered in delight, voice echoing around the now silent corridor. Draco rolled his eyes heavily. What was with immature people being obsessed with gossip? One would think that there would be better things to talk about than mindless shite.

             “Harry Potter is coming back for the Remembrance Ball next month!”

               Draco froze as he fought the urge to demand the boy to spill his sources. It wouldn’t do well to bring himself attention, especially about Potter.

               Excited whispers broke out as they all waited for Slughorn to open his door for class.

               “Where did you hear that?” Smith asked doubtfully. “Someone else brought up Potter at the beginning of the year but it turned out to be false.”

               For once, Draco was rather grateful for the Hufflepuff’s insight. He just hoped that it wouldn’t be a recurring thing.

               “I overheard McGonagall telling Flitwick about it when I was passing by the staffroom.”

               Draco furrowed his brows. If Potter was stopping by for a visit, Granger or Weasley would have acted like it, wouldn’t they? He shot a look towards Granger, who had a book on Modern Goat Conspiracy Theories compared to Anciently Deceased Theories open in one hand and their Potion’s book in the other. Surely, she couldn’t be reading both, right? Weasley had his head resting on Granger’s shoulder and appeared to be asleep. His mouth was open and Draco was pretty sure he saw drool.

               The clang of the door opening had Draco putting this behind him. It was no doubt just gossip.

 ———————————————————-

               “If Potter is coming back for the ball, who do you think will be his date?” Abbott asked as Draco sighed heavily, a few seats away from her in History of Magic.

               “Who says he has to have a date?” Macmillan asked with a scoff. “I’m going stag and there’s nothing wrong with that.”

               Finch-Fletchley snorted loudly. “You’re going stag because everyone you asked turned you down.”

               Draco was incredibly sick of everyone talking about Potter. This was getting out of hand. What was with everyone being obsessed with the savior? Merlin, there had to be better things to talk about.

               “That’s because he is blind to Abbott’s desperate pining after him.” Draco snarked, not bothering to turn around. He was just fed up with the whole conversation.

               There was a stunned silence that filled the room. Macmillan sounded as if he was choking on his own tongue and that was certainly the highlight to Draco’s day.

               “Is—Is Malfoy telling the truth?” Macmillan whispered, sounding awed. As if he hadn’t noticed that the girl had been in love with him for seven years.

               “I—umm.”

              Draco spared a miniscule moment of guilt as the girl sounded positively miserable. But it was for the best. He knew how this would end. And really, what was a little pain as long as it ended in happiness? Well, if they actually lasted as a couple that is. As a realist, he predicted those two would break up after one or two children.

               “Would you like to go to the ball with me?” Macmillan’s tone was scared, which had Draco rolling his eyes.

               “Yes!” Abbott squeaked out far louder than was necessary, causing Draco to nod approvingly.

               And if a small smile also escaped, well, no one had to know.

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Reputation Shouldn’t Be Taken Literally. But It’s Also True.

Every song on Rep so far is a mix of truth and drama. 

1. Look What You Made Me Do

No wonder we were completely confused when this song came out. On one hand, we thought it was about Kim and Kanye, but also maybe Katy. But then, as many people have noted, it could also be about how the way the media treats her. 

Her truth:

Any of those theories could be true because the song is about all of it. The song is her “re-birth”. She pulls a phoenix rising from the ashes:

“Honey, I rose up from the dead I do it all the time”

This is her truth. She got smarter and got harder from all of the drama and publicity she’s received over the past few years. But then…

Her Reputation:

She plays the mean girl. 

“I’ve got a list of names and yours is in red underlined”

Taylor Swift has better things to do than sit around and write down a list of people she wants to get revenge on. But also, if that did exist, I don’t think she’d really want to admit it. 

“The world moves on, another day, another drama-drama.
But not for me, not for me, all I think about is karma.” 

Again, people do genuinely believe she never moves on from drama and actually manufactures it so she can sell it in her music. 

“Look what you made me do”

She strategically makes the song about what other people did to her, not how she got herself into this mess. Essentially portraying her as girl who people say is always playing the victim.


2. …Ready For It?

Her truth:

This song is fascinating because it tells the story of meeting a guy for the first time and knowing that, going in, there are a lot of things that could cause problems. 

“Wonder how many girls he had loved and left haunted”

“Stealing hearts and running off and never saying sorry”

The song captures, in its rap-sung verses, the intensity of a relationship just beginning. The questions, the curiosity and also each person’s reputation. However, this is probably her most interesting truth: 

“Touch me and you’ll never be alone”

This is a fantastic lyric because it shows us the chaos of starting a high-profile relationship. Especially if you’re dating one of the world’s most renowned songwriters. 

Her Reputation:

We start out, right from the get-go with images of thieves and robbers. 

“Me, I was a robber first time that he saw me”

Now, this is exactly the line that sticks out to me because she’s directly addressing her reputation. She’s essentially saying that the man in question probably saw her as a man-eater (an insult she’s often associated with)

“Let the games begin.”

Taylor is seen as a girl who dates for fun. Always on to the next guy. Playing games with people’s hearts so she can write another song about it. 


2. Gorgeous

Her truth:

There’s a very clear story here. It should be fairly obvious at this point. From the Sunset and Vine reference to this pretty defining lyric: 

“And I got a boyfriend, he’s older than us”

Or this iconic line that describes my flirting strategy: 

“That I got drunk and made fun of the way you talk”

Not even to mention going home to her cats. 

Her Reputation:

I’ve heard people say this song can’t be satire, camp or a character because it’s “about Joe”. That’s ridiculous. Truth and satire can exist in the same song. We should know this well from Blank Space. 

And I mean, c’mon

“You’ve ruined my life by not being mine”. 

The media likes to think of her as a control freak, right? Manipulative and always looking for another man to date, she plays into this reputation perfectly. 

“I feel like I might sink and drown and die” 

Her phrasing should clear up any doubt here. Not to mention she’s probably drunk while she’s thinking this. This line is a comment on the public perception of how dramatic she is. It’s no secret that she sometimes seems to overdramatize the real-life events of her songs. 

Now, THE ALBUM COVER BRINGS IT TOGETHER

There have honestly been great interpretations of this and I think they’re all pretty much true. But also, think about the songs in relation to the editing here. 

The album exists halfway between the real her and the media’s perception of her, just as every song has demonstrated so far. It’s a fascinating trick for anyone who wants to take these songs as fully the truth or fully satire because neither is right. 

So no, we can’t take these songs literally. 

But yes, we can take parts of them seriously. 

Why? Because there’s always a little truth to our reputation. 


Please reblog and send me your thoughts! 

steve harrington x reader • cold coffee

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

Word Count: 1600+

Warnings: tooth rotting fluff, some language.

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

Requests are OPEN!

Originally posted by cameronxboyce

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

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[M] Innocence

Originally posted by herthealbum


A/N: Hi guys~ It’s Admin Sunshine here, as you may know I’ve been changing my fictions and today I’ve changed this fiction; I hope you guys will enjoy <3

Pairing: Jimin x Female Reader

Genre:  One Shot, Roommate AU!, Slightly fluff, Smut

Words Count : 3.5k

Warnings : [M] for Mature Content, this fiction is pure smut.


“It’s been six fucking months already” You said out loud as you scrolled down on your phone to keep yourself busy. But it was the truth; it’s been already six months since you had sex, you were horny and your roommate’s existence didn’t help you at all. When you took a deep breath, you started to think about your roommate; he was already sleeping and you were excessively horny. In fact you were getting even hornier than before and you couldn’t hold yourself any longer—you just wanted to cum.

But there was only one problem on your way to masturbate; the walls were thin and you knew you wouldn’t be able to hold back your moans. As you started to play with your clit you let out a soft moan, when you were wet enough; you’ve decided to slide a finger inside of your pussy. But when your moans started to get loud you tried to bite your lip—you tried to push second finger but your pussy was tight and you decided not to add another finger. As you kept fingered yourself, you started to cry out loud and at this point you didn’t care if Jimin aka your roommate heard you or not. You couldn’t help but think about him as you fingered yourself—he would fuck you real good if you asked him to do, but he didn’t know this side of you; you never showed how kinky you were in front of him. When you paced up the speed, you let out a big whiny-moan without noticing it. As soon as you came all over your finger, you started to catch your breath.

When you took a deep breath, you started to think about Jimin and the all those sex that you could have with him; you wanted him more than anything.

Keep reading

Counting Orgasms

Pairing: Yoongi x Reader

Type: Smut, overstimulation, multiple orgasms

Plot: You learn your lesson, a lesson about never lying. To never lie about how good your boyfriend is in bed.

Originally posted by wonhobe

I couldn’t do it. Desperate moans, fingers working vociferously at my clit. Images of my boyfriend painted in my mind. I just could not do it. No matter what I tried. A bath, a sexy movie, listening to my boyfriend’s music. Nothing worked better than his touch. And he deprived me of it recently. I just couldn’t cum without him.

I was driven mad by this. Entirely desperate for such an unobtainable release. I knew he was the only one whom could grant this, and I resented him so much for denying it. Sure, he was busy. But how busy can a man be to deprive his girlfriend of her own basic needs? I needed to vent before a fight brewed. So, I did just that.

“Y/N… Why don’t you just talk to him about it?” My best friend confided in me. We were face timing, and I was begging for a solution to such a peculiar problem.

My eyes widened, “No! Are you kidding! If I were to talk to him about this he would just write me off as being horny and annoying, not sexy and needy.”  I snapped suddenly at my friend, my own sexual tension, and frustration beginning to escape through words.

Her eyes stared at me for a moment, a smile erupting on her face, “You are so sexually frustrated Y/N.” She exclaimed, laughing to the point of tears welling in her eyes.

I rolled your eyes, finding a small laugh bubbling up within you due to hearing her’s. I sighed, “It’s not funny, okay? He hasn’t done anything with me for, like, 2 weeks. I’m dying over here.” I whined, pouting at the joke of it.

My friend snickered, “Is it because you can’t get him up anymore?” She asked deviously, making me gasp immediately.

“What? No! That’s not it at all!” I defended myself, taken aback by her question. I had wondered about this for the past 2 weeks, but soon enough came to the conclusion that it wasn’t my fault, but rather his.

“Then why on earth would your boyfriend not want to fuck you?” My friend challenged, wiggling her eyebrows. I laughed with her at this, shrugging my shoulders.

“I don’t know… He says he’s busy but when he is home he doesn’t do anything. I’ve been trying so damn hard. It feels like he doesn’t want me.” I relished in my own pity party, a frown overtaking my expression.

“Aww, Y/N… I’m sure it’s not your fault! You’re beautiful, okay? I bet he just feels awkward because he knows he isn’t fucking you right.” At this, I laughed. I laughed so hard that I snorted, catching both me and my friend by surprise.

“Come on though, Y/N… Spill it, he isn’t good in bed, is he? Because if he was, he’d be fucking you every night. Hell, if I were gay I would too.” My friend announced, making my laughter never cease to give up, “Come on! Just admit it.” She egged on.

“Okay, okay. I mean, the last time we did anything he couldn’t even make me cum.” I chimed in. My friend’s eyes lit up at this, “I knew it! He can’t make you cum, can he?” She exclaimed.

I went with the sarcasm of the situation and nodded, laughing with her, “Nope. He can’t.” I lied, making her raise her fists and cheer, “I knew it!”

“I can’t?” Yoongi’s voice cut through the happy aura of the environment, my friend going silent, holding back laughter from the awkward situation.

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?“

fictionandmusic  asked:

wow your writing in the gods and monsters series is amazing! i've always loved greek myths and you bring them to life and add a different twist that makes it better than anything i've ever read about mythology!! if you have time, could you do a continuation of the Hades and Kore story? Kore/Persephone is one of my fav goddesses and i can't wait to see where you take her story!

(continuation of: x, x)

The first time Kore throws herself into the River Styx, she is reckless and stubborn and feels like she has so little left to lose, only an overbearing mother she yearns to escape.

The first time Kore throws herself into the River Styx, she fights and swims and survives. She is picked up on the shore and carried to safety in Hades’s arms.

The second time Kore throws herself into the River Styx, she is reckless and stubborn and feels like she has everything to lose. She lets the water take her, and she drowns.

The second time Kore throws herself into the River Styx, it kills her.

~

Kore wakes up after falling unconscious while being carried by the King of the Underworld. Her skin is fully healed, no longer blistering and burning. She’s naked under the soft blankets, but she was naked when she dove into the river, so she’s not too worried about it.

“I didn’t know you were a goddess,” someone says, and she turns her head to see a little girl sitting by her bedside with black skin and grey eyes and hair. She’s glaring at her, “I wouldn’t have tried to kill you if I’d known. You shouldn’t touch my water – it’s not good for you. It will kill you. It does not care what you are.”

“It did not kill Achilles,” Kore says, pushing herself up so the blanket falls to her waist.

The young Lady Styx huffs and gets to her feet, pushing open the long wardrobe on the other side of the room. “It did, actually. What my river takes, it keeps.” Kore raises an eyebrow. Styx doesn’t explain further, only places a dark blue gown on the bed. “Hecate put some of her old things in here for you. She’s taller and thinner than you are. But you are a goddess. You can make it work.”

“I can,” Kore agrees, amused. She pushes herself out of bed, and her hair falls into her face.

Her hair has been a dark brown her whole life.

She strides over to the wardrobe and pulls it open, starring at herself in the mirror.

Her hair has turned pure, snowy white. The hair on her head of course, but the rest of it too. Her eyebrows, the light hair on her arms and legs, going down her navel, the hair between her legs – all of it white.

“You’re lucky nothing worse happened,” Styx scolds. “My river usually does much worse than that.”

Kore touches one of her new, pale eyebrows. “That is an excellent point, Lady Styx.”

With some clever magic, Kore pulls on the now perfectly fitting gown. Hecate doesn’t tend to bother with them, only dresses up if there’s some sort of celebration that requires her attendance – something that hasn’t happened in a long time, ever since she irritated Zeus and Poseidon to the point that they called for her head on a spike. The gown is old, even by their standards, but its beautifully crafted, stars plucked from the heavens and sewn into the bodice, waves from the seven seas curling around the long skirt. “This is very valuable,” she says, “Is Hecate sure she would like me to have it?”

Styx shrugs, “She said it was a young woman’s dress, and however she may look, she’s not a young woman any more. It’s my favorite dress of hers – I was quite cross that she gave it to you, but I did almost kill you. So I suppose that’s fair enough.”

“Ah,” Kore says, not quite sure how to respond to that. “I see.”

Styx grins at her and grabs her hand. The child goddess’s skin is freezing to the touch, but Kore doesn’t flinch back out of fear of being rude. “Come with me now. Hades wants to see you.”

The girl leads her through the twisting hallways to a polished wooden door. It’s not the throne room, where Kore thought that the girl would take her. She’s seen the grand inner chambers of Poseidon and Zeus’s homes before, of the lesser gods even, and Kore braces herself for something just as grandiose and intimidating.

Styx opens the door and pushes her inside before vanishing.

Kore blinks and looks around.

The room is smaller than she expected. It’s lined with shelves packed with scrolls, and mounted on the opposite wall is large map that’s constantly shifting and changing, and it take her almost a full minute of looking at it to realize it’s a map of the underworld.

“You’re looking better.”

Kore’s eyes snap down, and it’s only then that she notices the figure of Hades, King of the Underworld, hunched over his desk. His hair pulled in messy low ponytail, and there are dark bags under his eyes. He’s in a simple black chiffon, one no more presumptuous than any mortal noble would wear. He’s the most unassuming, unremarkable thing in already unassuming, unremarkable room.

Suddenly, she feels over-dressed.

“Thank you,” she says, not knowing what else to say. She feels – awkward, almost, in front of him, which isn’t something she’s ever felt with anyone. She wants to climb into his lap and rest her head against his shoulder. She wants to force him into some proper clothes for a king. She wants to put him to bed and make him sleep until he loses those bruises under his eyes.

She’s never wanted to do any of those things for anyone before. She doesn’t even know him.

Although – she knows he came for her. That he found an intruder into his realm and picked her up and soothed her, carried her to safety and washed her of the corrosive water of the Styx. He placed her in his palace and did not touch her as so many other men would have touched her.

So perhaps she does know him. At least a little.

He rests his chin on his hand while he looks at her. “Hermes came with a message from your mother, demanding your return.” She doesn’t even have the time to panic before he continues, “I denied her. If she wishes to speak to me in person, I told her she is welcome to step into my realm herself.”

“She won’t do that,” Kore says, “She fears your realm. She fears how her power means nothing in your domain.”

Kore had never known her mother to fear anything – except the land of the dead. She’d grown up thinking Hades must be a hulking, formidable figure to pull fear from her mother’s breast, but that’s clearly not the case.

He smiles, and it’s the first hint of sharpness she’s seen from him. “I know. There will be consequences, of course. But those are my concern. You are a guest of my realm, Goddess of Spring. Walk where you please, and do as you please. No one will stop you.”

He’s already looking back down at his papers, eyebrows drawing together as he scratches out a series of numbers and rewrites them. It’s a clear dismissal, but Kore can’t bring herself to move.

She’s never met this man before. Yet he stands against her mother, yet he welcomes her to his realm, yet he permits unrestricted access to his home, yet he grants her every freedom he’s able.

“Thank you,” she says again. He gives an absent nod, already reaching for another scroll.

She leaves as quietly as she came.

Keep reading

rachaelmhill  asked:

Buck, I've been feeling like my head's splitting open on-and-off since Tuesday, and now I'm getting other symptoms too. Please distract me with embarrassing stories about Steve? i love those.

when steve was twelve, he broke his arm.

surprisingly, it wasn’t in a fight–he was carrying a twenty-pound bag of potatoes up the stairs for his ma and he tripped. went down the whole flight, potatoes bouncing everywhere. after he’d recovered a bit from the tumble, he sat up, looked at old mrs. mackinnon– who was just coming out of her apartment–and said “sorry for the mess.” and then he looked down and noticed that his forearm was bent in the middle. and then he started crying.

so his ma ran him to the hospital and they set his arm and put it in a cast.

and thus began the first era of the Unstoppable Steve. (the second era was after erskine made a limited edition Jumbo Steve, and the third was Steve: Reheated.)

see, if you’ve ever had a plaster cast, you know that those things are shockingly sturdy. steve went from being a sixty pound asthmatic with rage issues to being a sixty pound asthmatic with rage issues and a right hook like a piledriver. at first, his arm was too tender for him to do much, but after it started healing up, and he started getting in fights again, he figured out that his right arm was better than a baseball bat when it came to hitting stuff. that plaster cast started white, but it didn’t take long for it to get brownish with dirt and bloodstains. he still got his ass kicked, but it took a bit more work, and the other guys actually looked like they’d been in a fight.

anyway, steve was half in love with that cast.  sometimes i thought he never wanted to take if off, and if it hadn’t messed with his drawing, i think he’d’ve worn it for about a year. but about a week before it was supposed to be taken off anyway, stevie got in a fight with gerry, the shoemaker’s kid from up the block. gerry was a mean sonofagun. he was thirteen, and he’d hit puberty early, so he had a solid eight inches on wee stevie. and he was as dumb as a box of bricks.

he hated steve. steve was tiny, sure, but he was sharp as a tack and well-liked. there wasn’t an old lady within miles that didn’t love stevie, so he was always getting penny candy for running errands for them. gerry had a habit of cornering stevie in alleyways and beating on him until candy fell out. steve had a habit of not letting him do it without a fight.

gerry cornered stevie and started shoving at him. steve shoved back. gerry shoved harder. stevie stumbled, and gerry threw a punch. stevie took it full in the face, and then swung back, full-force, with that sledgehammer cast of his.

gerry dodged.

steve plowed his cast into the old brick alley wall. the brick shattered.

stevie’s cast broke. so did two of stevie’s fingers.

steve started screaming.  

gerry ran.

now, understand–it was old, old brick, but all gerry saw was little crazy stevie rogers punch a hole in a brick wall and then start shrieking like a berserker. rat-brain gerry wasn’t bright, but he knew a losing battle when he saw one, so he ran like the hulk himself had just showed up in that alley. smartest thing he could’ve done, really, because i’d just shown up and if he’d kept after stevie, i’d’ve handed him his ass.

as it was, i pried stevie’s cast off and walked him back to the hospital. the doctors said his arm was plenty healed and didn’t need a new cast, and splinted up his fingers.

steve didn’t like the splints nearly as much as he’d liked the cast. they made absolutely terrible weapons.

This–and the two previous storytime asks–can be found with corrected type here on Ao3. –Mod Hell

just a bet part ii

hey!

sorry this took way longer than i wanted (writers block LOLLLL)

but anyway yeah this is lowkey a filler kinda chapter but i like it

enjoy!

summary:  beverly bets richie he can’t get with the new kid, eddie, in under three months. richie disagrees

pairing: richie and eddie

words: 1698

part one, three, four, five


2 months and 26 days remaining

Richie walked into school that day, feeling more confident and happy than he had been in a while. It was odd, yes, but he enjoyed the feeling more than it worried him. He approached his locker, finding Beverly leaning against it. “Why, hello, Beverly. Nice to join me this wonderful morning.”

Beverly snickered. “So, I’m guessing it went well? He show up?”

Richie nodded. “Of course he did!” Richie said, a small smile playing on his lips. “I woo-ed him so good he came to my game and we got ice cream after.”

She chuckled, pushing her hair behind her ear. “I gotta admit, Tozier, you’ve got game.”

He scoffed. “Mrs. Marsh! I’ve always had game, thank you very much. I pride myself in all of my lovable characteristics.”

“Like you have any of those.” Beverly retorted.

“I have so many of those!” Richie defended. “So many, in fact, that we’re getting ice cream after school today.”

Beverly raised an eyebrow. “That sounds suspiciously gay.”

Richie rolled his eyes and chuckled a little. “What an assumption.” He closed his locker and started to walk towards English, where they’d discuss the bet with Bill and Stan.

Beverly sighed. “You know, Eddie isn’t even that attractive. Why didn’t I make you go after like… Mike or something.”

“I like Mike as a friend, Bev, plus Eds is cute from my personal opinion,” Richie said back, sitting down at his table.

“Did you just call him Eds? And cute? Gee, if I didn’t know any better, I would suggest you liked this Eddie Kaspbrak.” Beverly grinned, sitting down in her chair.

Richie shook his head. “I don’t like him. It’s just a bet, that’s all.”

But was it? Richie never felt like he did around Eddie around anyone else. It was weird how oddly happy he was, giddy even. Do I like him?

No. Richie shook his head a bit as if to get the thought out of his head. He didn’t like Eddie like that. This was a bet and that’s all. Just a bet.

Eddie walking through the main hallway, weaving through the many students walking the other direction. Richie had texted Eddie and asked- well- demanded that they go get ice cream again. He wasn’t opposed to it as Richie was paying, but he did find it odd. Everyone was saying Richie was a horrible guy but he didn’t understand where that notion was coming from. He seemed so nice. Annoying, yes, but nice.

“Eds!” Eddie heard as he approached Richie who was leaning against his old, beat-up truck. He rolled his eyes. “Don’t call me that.”

Richie chuckled, reaching in his truck’s open window to unlock it. “Hop in, Eddie Spaghetti.”

Eddie rolled his eyes, opening the squeaky passenger seat door and sitting down. He clicked the belt buckle into place as he looked over at Richie. “Don’t call me that either.”

Richie scoffed. “Then what am I gonna call you?”

“Gee, I don’t know, what about Eddie?” He retorted sassily.

Richie acted like he was pondering it, stroking an invisible beard. “Nah.”

Eddie rolled his eyes again.

“If you keep rolling your eyes, they’ll roll right out of their sockets.” He joked, pushing the car key into the ignition and turning the car on.

“I think I’d like that so I don’t have to do it anymore.”

Eddie tried to hide his smile as Richie laughed, turning into the parking lot of the ice cream shop. Richie turned the truck off, hopping out of it quick enough to open Eddie’s door before he could.

Eddie raised an eyebrow. “I can open the door by myself, you know.”

“I do, however, I am being gentlemanly,” Richie responded.

Eddie resisted the urge to roll his eyes and got out of the truck, following behind Richie who had already started walking towards the door. He opened the door for Eddie, who eyed Richie and mumbled that “he could still open the door himself.”

Richie walked up the counter. The worker, whose nametag said, Rachel. “Oh, Richie, hey!” She gave him a warm smile.

Richie gave her a grin. “Hey, how are you?”

“I’m good. I’m about to get off work in a bit… maybe if you’re free if you’d like to hang out at my place?”

“Well-”

“Oh, c’mon, it’d be fun!”

Eddie watched his conversation from where he was standing behind Richie and he felt his blood boil. Why was he so angry? It was like someone had turned a switch on in him and he immediately felt the need to interject. “He’s not.”

“Excuse me?” She turned to look at Eddie.

“He’s not free.” He repeated. “He’s here with me.”

Richie had a shit-eating grin on his face. “I am here with Eddie Spaghetti.” He said, throwing his arm around Eddie’s shoulder. The girl’s face dropped and it was replaced with one of disgust. “You’re dating him? Really, Richie? You can do so much better than that.”

Richie scoffed. “Well, it’s not really your place, now is it? Maybe I should tell your boyfriend that you’ve tried to cheat on him with me. Twice. Now, that is someone who can do better.”

Rachel narrowed her eyes. “You wouldn’t dare.”

“Wouldn’t I?” Richie responded, a smirk growing on his face. “Remember when Bella Richardson tried to do the same thing you’re doing? You wrote slut on her locker last month when, big shocker, you were doing the same damn thing! Now, can I order or what?”

She let out a long, frustrated sigh before looking up at a grinning Richie. “What do you want?”

“Finally! I’ll have one scoop of chocolate and Eddie will have one scoop of mint chocolate chip.” He said, handing her a five dollar bill. She gave Richie his change and got the ice cream, sliding it over to them with a fake smile on her face. “Have a nice day.”

Richie gave her one right back, handing Eddie his bowl and walking outside with him. “Wow, Eds, I didn’t think you had it in ya to get jealous like that. Also, mint is gross and tastes like toothpaste. I don’t know how you eat it.”

Eddie nearly choked on his ice cream. “What?”

“I said, mint is gro-”

“Not that! I was not jealous, Tozier.”

“Then what was it?” He asked, looking both ways before crossing the road. “I sure think it was something.”

“I was dealing with her for you,” Eddie replied, following next to him. “Besides, why would I be jealous? I don’t even like you. I only came because you paid.”

Richie gasped. “You don’t like me? Gee, Eds, I thought with all the blushing you’ve been doing that you did.”

Eddie felt his face heat up. “Shut the fuck up. I do not like you, hear me?”

Richie grinned. “Hear ya loud n’ clear.”

“Also, mint does not taste like toothpaste. Have you ever even tried it? It tastes nothing like-” Eddie’s ramble was cut short as he nearly tripped and landed right on his face. Richie reached out, grabbing Eddie’s waist to prevent him from falling. He had dropped his ice cream in the process.

Richie stood Eddie upright and scowled. “I have no ice cream now because of you.”

Eddie was blushing like mad, his stomach had tightened up into knots. All Richie had done was catch him, why did he feel so euphoric? Eddie made a face and handed Richie his. “Try it.”

Richie shook his head.

“Try it!”

“Damn, alright.” He said, taking the spoon from Eddie and putting a small amount of the green ice cream in his mouth. “Okay, I take my previous statement back. That is good.”

Richie hopped into the driver’s seat, turning the car on and immediately turning the radio on as well. He turned the knob up, the speakers sounding like they were on the verge of breaking. “I love this song!”

Eddie raised an eyebrow. “Africa? You like.. Africa?”

Richie scoffed. “Of course I do!”

Eddie watched as Richie drove, singing the lyrics obnoxiously loudly. He was mumbling the lyrics under his breath. There was a red light as the chorus approached and Richie took the opportunity to look to Eddie. “C’mon! Sing it, I know you know it!”

Eddie looked over at him as it started. “It’s gonna take a lot to take me away from you!” Richie sang, pointing at Eddie.

He smiled, blushing a bit. “There’s nothing that a hundred men or more could ever do!”

Richie grinned. “I bless the rains down in Africa! Gonna take some time to do the things we never had!”

Eddie felt a wave of happiness fall over him. He didn’t know why he felt this way around Richie. In that moment, watching the other boy sing off-key and way too loudly, that he liked Richie. He really did.

Richie snuck a glance over at Eddie, to find him smiling to himself. This caused him to smile as well, continuing to sing the song until it was over. A foreign feeling washed over Richie as he watched the smaller boy drum to the beat in the air with his hands. He couldn’t help the grin that spread across his face. Was this just a bet?

Richie nearly crashed the car with the thought of that. Of course, it was just a bet. He didn’t like Eddie, it was only for the bet. Sure, he was a cool guy and all but Richie had no romantic feelings for him.

Or did he? He couldn’t contain his smiles around him and he felt more compelled to be with Eddie.

But it was just a stupid bet. That’s all it’ll ever be, a bet.


heeeeyyyyY!YYY

wowowowowowow 

masterlist

taglist?/part three???

thank you for reading <3

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Forget me not

Thaaaaank you @alwaysfangirly!! 💖 And omg, you’re so kind! And so patient! Because this took me forever and you were so sweet about it! 💖 I hope you like what I did with it! (Even though it might be kinda messy and confusing…) Oh, and I also posted it on AO3, because… well, once more, it turned out longer than I intended…



“Pansy, where was I yesterday?”

“What?”

“What was I doing? Did you see me talking to anyone?”

Draco paced the length of the eighth year common room, feeling Pansy’s intent stare on him.

“Those are really odd questions to ask. Have you lost your mind?”

“In a manner of speaking,” Draco muttered, stopping in front of the fireplace. “I think someone obliviated me. No, I am sure someone obliviated me.”

He heard Pansy get off the armchair and walk over to him.

“Are you sure? Why would someone do that to you?”

“That’s what I’d like to know,” Draco growled.

“But how can you be sure you’ve been obliviated? I mean, isn’t the point of obliviating someone that they… well, forget?”

Draco scratched the back of his neck, nodding absentmindedly.

“Something just felt off when I woke up this morning. I was sure it was Wednesday but then I saw the Daily Prophet and realised it was already Thursday. I remember everything until Tuesday night and waking up today. But if I try to think about what happened yesterday, my mind just goes blank. I’ve been racking my brain all day long. It’s the only explanation, Pansy. I-”

Draco stopped in his tracks when he saw Potter enter the common room. Something was… weird about him today. He didn’t look at Draco. He hadn’t looked at Draco all day. He always looked at Draco. He probably thought it went unnoticed but, of course, Draco noticed. He always stared right back whenever Potter briefly averted his eyes. Always. But why was Potter avoiding his gaze today?

“Potter!” Without a moment’s hesitation, he strode over to the Gryffindor.

“Hey Malfoy,” he mumbled, his eyes on the carpet.

“Potter, is there something you want to tell me?” Draco inquired, lowering his head to catch the other boy’s eye.

“No?” the Gryffindor said, his voice slightly shaking.

“I think there is. Out with it, Potter! Something happened yesterday, I know it.”

“You do?” Potter said in astonishment, finally looking up. His eyes were full of wonder and… apprehension. “But you shouldn’t-” He broke off, pressing his mouth into a thin line.

“I shouldn’t what?” Draco said, stepping closer and narrowing his eyes. “Remember? You did it, didn’t you? You were the one who obliviated me.”

Potter was trying very hard to keep a straight face, but Draco saw right through him.

“The question is,” he said slowly, lowering his voice, “why did you do it?”

Potter closed his eyes and let out a sigh.

“I’ve been feeling guilty about that all day. I shouldn’t have done it.”

“Then why did you?” Draco asked.

“I panicked, okay? I didn’t do it on purpose. It was like a reflex.”

Now Draco simply had to know what had happened the day before. This sounded serious.

“Show me,” he said, grabbing Potter by the wrist.

“How-”

“There’s got to be a Pensieve around here somewhere,” Draco muttered, already dragging Potter out of the common room.

“There is, actually,” Potter mumbled behind him.


Draco looked around the memory he and Potter had just dived into. They were in the dungeons and class had just started.

“Professor, why are you showing us Amortentia again?” one of the students asked, sounding more eager than annoyed.

“Because,” Professor Slughorn said with a smile, “I want you to brew an antidote today. So everyone take a quick sniff to get in the right mood and get started.”

Draco frowned as he watched himself go into the storage room, apparently ignoring Slughorn’s instructions. His eyes then fell on Potter, Pensieve-Potter to be precise, who stood in front of the cauldron full of Amortentia. Granger and the Weasel were standing beside him, grinning at each other. It was disgusting.

“What do you smell, Harry?” the Weasel asked. Potter blinked.

“Nothing.”

“Come on, we’re your friends. You can tell us,” the Weasel insisted, elbowing him.

“No, Ron, I literally smell nothing,” Potter muttered, sounding genuinely surprised.

“That’s strange,” Granger chimed in.

“Yeah.” Potter creased his eyebrows. “I would have thought-” He stopped abruptly as Draco, well, Pensieve-Draco, came into view again, locking eyes with him.

“Professor, have you ever heard of anyone who doesn’t smell anything? In regards to Amortentia, I mean.”

“Hermione,” Potter growled through gritted teeth.

“What, she didn’t say it was you,” the Weasel shrugged. Potter slapped a hand to his forehead and Draco saw himself smirk.

“You don’t smell anything, Potter? That’s pretty pathetic.” When Pensieve-Draco simply strutted back to his desk and began chopping his ingredients, the real Draco frowned.

“So that’s the big secret? This is why you obliviated me?” he asked.

“Wait for it,” Potter mumbled. Was Draco imagining it or were Potter’s cheeks turning a bit rosy? He was biting the inside of his cheek, too, and constantly shifting his weight. He was nervous.

Intrigued, Draco watched as the class proceeded without significant interruptions.

When Slughorn dismissed them and students started hurrying out of the classroom, Draco tapped his foot impatiently. He paused when he saw his past self purposely bump into Potter, causing the Gryffindor to drop all his books.

Smirking to himself, Pensieve-Draco bent down to help Pensieve-Potter pick up his things, quickly scanning the room. They were the only ones left.

“So, you really didn’t smell anything?” Draco heard himself ask. Pensieve-Potter just scowled at him. Draco could see what Pensieve-Potter obviously didn’t; Pensieve-Draco was disappointed. “Nothing at all?”

Getting up, Pensieve-Potter slammed down his books on the desk nearest to him.

“Not that it’s any of your business, but I used to smell… something. So you can save your taunts about-”

“What is that?” Pensieve-Draco suddenly asked. Potter had been draping his Gryffindor scarf around his neck but had halted at the Slytherin’s outburst. The real Draco watched closely as his past self stretched out a hand and examined the scarf.

“What is it now?” Pensieve-Potter said, sounding irritated but also slightly nervous. “It’s my scarf.”

Pensieve-Draco slowly shook his head as he drew out his wand.

“No, something is off.” He pointed his wand at the scarf and before Potter could protest or interfere, he had mumbled, “Revelio.”

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bts// face riding

jin

he loved your thighs and pussy. so when you asked him about face riding, he happily complied. he wanted nothing more but to make you feel amazing. 

when you sat down, thighs over his head, he started kissing the insides of your thighs- adding more to the pool that was already between your legs. his rough hands grabbed your thighs, massaging the flesh that he adored so much, and got to work. your hands immediately gripped the headboard of your shared bed, not being able to stand the amount of pleasure already.

“mmh baby, you taste as sweet as always.” you heard his muffled voice from underneath you. 

Originally posted by nochuie

suga

you were shaking above him, the amount of pleasure he was giving you was mind blowing. one of your hands held onto the wall while the other was down inbetween your legs gripping yoongi’s hair. his fingers were gripping into your thighs, most likely leaving marks. his nose was digging into the perfect place on your clit, pushing you further to your orgasm. 

“god kitten, you’re amazing.”

his praising made you even more turned on in this scenario. you moved your hands up your body and held onto your boobs, massaging them since they were highly sensitive at this time. yoongi noticed and groanded at the siht, obviously loving what was happening.

“you’re so hot kitten.”

Originally posted by iloveyoo-ngi

jhope

you were extremely nervous when he asked you to get onto his face- that he wanted to try something. you were quite insecure about your weight, so literally sitting on him was not something you were 100% positive about. hoseok would notice your hesitation and instantly reassure you.

“baby, please. i just want to make you feel good. let me make you feel good.” he spoke softly as he lied down. he gently grabbed you by the thighs and pulling you onto his face. you smiled down at him and took your position. you saw him give you smirk before diving right in and making you moan instantly, making you wish that you weren’t so insecure before and did it sooner. 

one of hands stayed on your hip as the other one reached up and played with your nipple, making you throw your head back. his tongue and hands felt amazing all over your body,

Originally posted by bfjhs

rap monster

you were a moaning, screaming mess above namjoon. the name “daddy” filled the entire room because of you. the entire bed shook from you squirming above him. his hands tightening around your thighs to try to get you from moving so much. 

with each moan of yours, you could feel his smirk and ego grow rapidly. 

“kitten, if i knew you were going to be like this we shouldve done it a lot sooner” he spoke with his raspby, muffled voice. 

tongue dove quickly in and out of you, making your body shake even more when you finally oragsmed. 

Originally posted by thisisjustforfunval

jimin

“thats it baby, grind you pussy down onto my face.” he groaned from underneath you, leaving you to wonder if he was enjoying this more than you. 

your hands rested on the wall as you fucked his mouth with your entire body. you could feel his eyes on you as you closed your own and looked up at the ceiling, trying to get the amazing moment scarred in your brain forever. you had never felt this good in your entire life before. 

his hands slid up your hips and around your ass, giving you some kind of stability. he gave your ass little slaps every once in a while, loving the way it made your face scrunch up in pain and pleasure. 

when you finally orgasmed, you were completely tired out, leaving a proud, smug, look on jimins face. 

Originally posted by chimcheroo

v

you were on the couch when taehyung came home from practice abruptly, literally throwing his bag and shoes off. 

“tae, are you o-” you tried to ask him but was cutoff by him smashing his lips on yours. he picked you a bit, just enough for him to slid underneath you, so you were straddling him. his hands roamed your entire body.

“the boys were talking about something at practice today.” he said against your lips, his hands finally stopping on your ass. 

“and what was that?” you asked, grinding your hips against his obvious hard on. 

“i want you to ride my face.” he stated, pulling away fully to see your reaction. a smirk was on your face, already loving it and you havent even done it yet.

you pushed him down and stood up quickly to strip off your clothing, his eyes never leaving you. you both smirked at eachother finally as you took your position over his head. 

Originally posted by calicosbday

jungkook

you dont know how it happened, but jungkook had convinced you to watch porn with him. 

so now, both of you, him with a hard on, and you with soaked panties, sat on your bed watching the video that played on your laptop. 

it got to a scene where the girl with the very loud moans was sitting on top of the man, riding his face. this scene made you close your legs to get some friction where you needed it most. jungkook noticed your action and smirked,”you want to try that?” he asked.

you nodded in reply and was suddenly attacked by jungkook hungrily kissing your lips and neck while taking your panties and shirt off at the same time. “this is going to be so fun princess.” he groaned as he flippe dyou over to sit on top of him.\you moved up a little and sat down on his face, already getting use to the incredible feeling. 

his tongue circled your entire pussy, tasting all of your juices,” god, you taste even better from this angle if thats even possible.” he moaned into your flesh. 

Originally posted by ciutae

The Dozens of Times Eddie Kapbrak Came Home, and the One Time He Didn’t

(A Story in Sonia’s POV)


–There was the one time Eddie came home angry. Slamming doors, cursing under his breath. I was upset at the language, but more worried he’d catch a little finger, or a toe in the cabinets or doors. I asked why and he pushed me away. He had always been doing that lately. Am I being too much of a worrier? Maybe I am. He’s older now, and doesn’t need me as much. As much as that hurts to admit, seventeen is old enough to be independent. 


–He came home crying again. He’d been doing a lot of that, too. Something was different. He came to me for once. I was selfishly happy, but that left me when I saw him. He had a bruise under his left eye. His lip was cut, and his hands were shaking and red, a sign that he’d had a panic attack again. Those signs used to be foreign to me until he told me those weren’t asthma like I had thought for years. I’d like to think of myself as an almost expert on them now. The only thing hard for me to tell anymore is what might cause them. He has them so often. Eddie comes to me, and sits down, panting. He looks worn down and sad and resigned, as if he’s accepted a heavy fate, or like he was waiting for a piano to fall on him. 

This time when I ask him what’s wrong, he crumbles and starts to cry again. He tells me Henry and his psychopath friends cornered him in the locker room, and roughed him up. He shows me his ribs, and I see red. Partly the dried blood, partly rage. That little freak carved the word “Fag” into Eddie’s little side. It takes everything in me not to take him to the hospital, but Eddie insists he cleaned and dressed it as much as it needed, and it wasn’t deep, no stitches needed. I prayed with everything in me that it wouldn’t scar. When I asked him why they would choose that word, he becomes silent again. He seems to be trying to find the right words to say, and eventually he does. He tells me, stuttering more than the elder Denbrough boy, that it’s because they saw him kissing Richard Tozier. I had nothing to say, and he goes to his room before I could find the right words. I did eventually, over dinner. I tried to make a lighthearted joke, and said he could do better than little Richie Tozier, and that I loved him. He did laugh, but he also cried. This time it was the good way. 


–One time he came home excited, his feet barely touching the ground as he ran upstairs. I called out to him to get the door, but he was down just as fast heading out again. His cheeks are pink and his eyes are bright, and I can’t help but to think that just a few months ago this same boy was crying in shame over what had happened. He was a lot happier in general, due in part I suppose to coming out, but mostly Richard. Richie, Richie this, and Richie that. I almost wanted to tell him I was tired of hearing it, but his happiness wasn’t something I could get tired of. Despite being a trouble maker and a bad mouth, he did take care of Eddie. I did tell him to stop coming home with love marks- unsanitary and shameless little things. I tried not to think about the fact that he still probably got them where I couldn’t see them. He may be an adult next month but he’s still my little angel.

He tells me he’s finally going out on a real date, just the two of them. That they’re going to see a movie, and he tells me not to wait up. I know I’ll try to, but he always manages to come home after I fall asleep. Sneaky little boy. He tells me he’s already left the name, address, and number of the movie theatre on the counter, and that he’ll be with Richie who can be reached as well. I have his number in my Rolodex, as I do his parents, and the rest of his friends- you never know when you might need them. He kisses my cheek and practically skips out to the beat up truck Richard drives. It has a bench seat and the driver seatbelt doesn’t work most of the time, and I cringe thinking about Richie just sitting on it so he doesn’t get a ticket for not actually wearing it. Eddie promised me he’d never drive it, so at least there’s that. 


–He came home today, silent. It’s almost worse when he does that instead of crying. Eddie was pale, and he had dark circles under his eyes. I asked if he was okay, and he just stares at me. It feels like an eternity when he opens and says “The school won’t let Richie and I go to prom together… They said if we showed up they’d kick us out.” His voice sounds so fragile and small, like he doesn’t feel like a real person. I’m furious. I tell him I’ll call the school, but he begs me not to. He says it’s okay, he knew it would happen, that this is just the way things are. I, however, will not stand this. As soon as he goes to his room, I call his principle. I can’t remember exactly what I said, though I am equal parts embarrassed and proud to have used foul language in place of his name. “Mr. Shitstain” and I came to an agreement that they may attend as long as they are within a larger group. He will not allow them to have couple’s pictures, but he did reluctantly allow that they dance together. I tell Eddie in the morning and he cries and hugs me. He goes to Richie to give him good news. 


–He comes home after prom with a photo- the whole group is in it, all holding a sign that says “Loser’s Club”. I cringed at the name, but they chose it for themselves years ago. Eddie and Richie are next to each other, and I suppress an eye roll that Richard had ripped open his shirt to reveal an exclamation point painted on his pale abdomen at the last moment. The picture is slightly blurred, and Eddie confirms my theory when he laughs and says the camera guy was startled and tried to lunge at Richard to put all of his clothes back on. Despite this, I see the stars in his eyes. He is happy, so I am happy. 


–Lately he’s been coming home with heaps of papers, college letters, essays, SATs, tests. I try not to think about him leaving. I turn up the volume on the TV or the radio when he uses the phone to talk to his friends about it. It hurts and he knows it hurts. I’ve never been good at not worrying. This goes on for weeks. I fail to keep my tears in when he’s at school or out with friends, but at the same time, I’m immensely proud. He’s such a good boy. 


–This time he comes home, and he doesn’t say a word, and I can’t see him from the kitchen but I know something is wrong. His feet are dragging and his breathing sounds funny. I drop the spoon into the soup when I hear a crash. He’s laying on the floor and crying. Despite him being curled up in a ball I can see he’s covered in bruises and cuts, and bleeding badly. I try not to scream but when I rush to him I can’t hold it, he’s been cut up badly again, more words carved into his soft belly and his thighs. I can see the word “Queer” seeping through his khaki pantleg as he sobs. This time, he does need stitches. In many places. The only thing he says to me from the hospital bed is that he is oh so tired of this town. Richard never leaves his side, growling at anyone who causes him pain or wakes him up, like a wild animal. I’ve decided that I am incredibly grateful that he is who he is. 

He’s in the hospital for three days. Night one was cleaning and stitching and recounting what happened. The police had been called to file a report. He hesitantly confesses that Henry, Patrick, and the other cretins did this to him. Chief Bowers is red with rage. I hear him in the hallway calling my son a “flamer” but that his boy was “going to get it”. This is the first and only time I’ve yelled at a cop. Richie laughs and holds up his hand for a high five, something I wouldn’t usually reciprocate, but tonight is a night of firsts. Night two was observation and tests to see how bad the internal injuries might be. He has a concussion, but they found no internal damage aside from bruises and a cracked rib. They send him home wrapped in Ace bandages and taped up like Richard’s glasses. That night he tells me he needs to leave, that he can’t take this anymore. I’m angry, and admittedly irrational. We do not speak to each other for a week. 


–When we speak again, he walks in the door with Richie, William, and Michael. Out of his friends, Michael is my favorite despite where he lives being so messy. He brings me flowers and fresh fruits and vegetables. He washes them himself, but only once he gets here so I can see it. He’s a very well mannered and intelligent man. William is wonderful too, but I feel guilt in having trouble understanding him, and he has a habit of talking with his mouth full. He’s not as messy as Richard, so at least there is that. Eddie has healed nicely so far, most of the stitches are out already, and the scars he has, though sadly legible, are hidden under clothes. His lip and eyebrow have small scars, but they are hard to notice. The boys have folded boxes in their hands. I knew this was coming, but I still couldn’t bear it. I stubbornly told him I wouldn’t help him, and that I wouldn’t watch him either. He only nods his head, looking down. 

They pack up his belongings, and I step out into the yard, smoking my first cigarette in years. I swiped one from the Marsh girl months ago, when Eddie was starting to talk about college. I thought that was the worst, but this hurts more. He’s leaving too soon, and I can’t stop him. He promised me he’d finish high school, and go to college, but that he would not live here, in Derry. Because we weren’t completely speaking, I have no idea where he’s moving, and now I’m too embarrassed to ask. When I go back inside, William hands me a piece of paper, his handwriting surprisingly neat, with Eddie’s address, and number. He was moving just outside of the city, into the matchbox apartments. With Richard. I can’t help it. When he walks out of the front door with his things, he kisses my cheek. I can’t help it. When the car drives away, their silhouettes in the windshield. I can’t help it. I sit down on the porch, and I begin to cry. I can’t help it. 


–He doesn’t come in the door anymore. Not the way he used to. No angry slams, no excited pops as the door hits the wall. No silent entries when he’s tired. No little footsteps. He doesn’t come home. He visits, sometimes with Richard, and with his friends. He calls frequently, too. He’s a good boy. Time passes, and he came to visit after graduation. He got accepted to a college in Maine. I try to hide how happy that makes me. I promise I won’t go to the dorms too much. He and Richie talk about their lease ending and moving on campus. His little group of friends are trying their best to stick together. They all got accepted to the same school, and will try to attend until their majors take them elsewhere. It’s nice knowing that he’ll have so many friends. 

He doesn’t come home, but he visits. Holidays he even stays in his old room. Sometimes. Other times he stays with William in his new house, just down the street from mine. Sometimes they visit Richie’s parents, or Michael’s farm. It’s a lot like it used to be, but it isn’t the same. I know it never will be, and while I’m sad, I’m happy too. He doesn’t come home, but he gets married in the same church I was married in. They make the paper as the first same sex couple to get married in Derry. Someone booed them as they walked to their car, but before anyone said anything, Richard flipped them off. I don’t tell Eddie, but I caught it on camera. It’s framed in my room, shameful but endearing. He doesn’t come home, but he visits often, asking for advice. We’ll have lunch together and talk about stain removal, and he’s picked up cross stitching for Richard’s anniversary gift. He’s going to make a sign that says “Tozier-Kaspbrak” for their sitting room. 


He doesn’t come home, but he visits often. Many times with Richard, and even more happily with their new daughter. I’ve always wanted a daughter, so I spoil her rotten. I try not to be so overbearing as I was with Eddie. I know it had the wrong impression on him, and I don’t want her to feel the same. I give her sweets when they aren’t looking, and I teach her all about keeping a good home, and let her watch football with me when they need a babysitter. Eddie doesn’t know, but sports are a guilty pleasure of mine. I want her well rounded, too- to know that girls can like whatever they please. Her name is Amelia Isabelle, and she grows so fast. He doesn’t come home anymore, not like he used to. And I’m so, so grateful. He’s leading a good and proud life, and I’ve never been more proud to be the mother of Edward Tozier-Kaspbrak. He doesn’t come anymore, but when he visits, it’s like he never left at all. I’ve lived a good little life, I feel.



“Sonia Kaspbrak, 65, passed in her sleep in her home of Derry, Maine. Natural causes. She leaves her son, son-in-law, and granddaughter. Funeral to be held this Saturday, July 17th at the First Church of Derry. She will be fondly remembered by all who knew her. Everyone is welcome to attend the open service ceremony being held to celebrate her life. 
Thank you, 
Richard Tozier-Kaspbrak”

stay in the dark (a mileven fic)

hey there mileven readers, it’s me, ya girl savannah. the lovely @thecakegoesmeow requested Mike and Eleven hanging out in the cabin and Mike seeing El’s amazing curls for the first time. I hope it’s everything you wanted! (ao3 link) 


“What’s going on in there?” Chief Jim Hopper shouted, for the fifth time- and yes, he was counting. He stood outside the bathroom door, conveniently locked, knocking again. “Come on, kiddo it’s been like an hour.”

“20 minutes!” she yelled from behind the locked door.

Hopper looked around to show the empty room the confusion on his face. “What?” he shouted back.

“You said an hour!” he heard her yell again, “it’s only be twenty minutes.”

“It’s called an exaggeration, El. Wasn’t that your word of the day, what, like a week ago? I’d have thought you would have that one down, you sure seem to like ‘em.” he mused, laughing at his own joke. When the teenager behind the door didn’t respond, Hopper let out a sigh of exasperation. Guess it was still too early to start using Dad Jokes on her.  “Listen, he’s gonna be here any minute. You gonna stay in there the whole time he’s here?”

El’s reflection in the mirror frowned at her, and she untangled her goopy hands from her head. “Stupid hair,” she grumbled, her shoulders falling.

“What’d you say?” she heard her Hopper’s muffled voice ask. El’s forehead collided with the mirror as she let it drop, giving up altogether and letting her hands hang down by her sides.

“My hair.” El half whispered. Her eyes trained in on the the other girl in the mirror, her mind focused on the curls that stuck up way behind her head, willing them to obey and lay flat. They began to fall back in slow motion, El finally smiling. Stay, she prayed.

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Loki Imagine - Dirty Dreams

Loki’s P.O.V.

At night, it was usually very quiet. Everyone else was asleep, expect me. Being on Midgard wasn’t what I had actually wanted but here I was, almost forced to stay because of my brother Thor. He and his little avenger friends had a secret mission, which left me tagging along unwillingly. At least I got some sort of a room, which I was in now. It was small. There was a big bed, a nightstand and a few books.

It was really late but I kept hearing whimpers. They were distracting my reading so I got up to check whatever it was. Hopefully they wouldn’t nag their heads off tomorrow since I left my room. I wasn’t a pet tho, so I assumed I got some freedom here.

Quietly, I opened the door which led me to a hallway. It was dark, the white curtains covered the windows and no lights were on. Then I listened. First I heard absolutely nothing. As I thought it was simply my mind, I heard it again. It came from the room on the opposite of mine, Y/N’s room. She was a spy, for all that I knew. Actually, Y/N was the only decent human here who treated me nicely.

Was she crying?

I walked behind her door and knocked gently, hopefully not waking anyone else up. Night time was great because I didn’t have to interact with some of those gormless muppets. She didn’t seem to react on the knock. So I listened closely, quite honestly not expecting anything special. 

‘‘Loki’‘ my name left her lips softly and I thought I heard it wrong. Had I done something? This filled me with confusion so I opened the door and walked in, expecting to see a human woman crying into a pillow, her H/C hair messy and eyes bloodshot. Instead, I found her perfectly asleep in her bed, the sheets a little messy. She shifted her position so she was laying on her stomach and her hand squeezed the sheet. 

Obviously she wasn’t crying. If she would’ve been quiet, I wouldn’t have stayed. But she did mention my name so I was also intrigued. Did I frighten her? Was she having a nightmare as well?

I wasn’t sure what was going through her mind but there was only one way to find out, magic. Casually I walked over and then sat on the edge of her bed. It was a little bit smaller than mine, which was surprising. But her room was bigger and it smelled like redwine and perfume. 

As I sat down, I looked at her hair and focused, closing my eyes as well. Not too long after I caught onto her dreams and they played before my eyes. There were no murderous monsters chasing her, no blood covered rooms or ghosts in her dreams, oh no.

Y/N’s dreams were much dirtier. I could see a candlelit, fancy bedroom. Y/N was on the bed, above a man and she was riding him. She was moaning loudly and it seemed quite intimate. It took me about two seconds to make sense of this all. 

My eyes opened and her dream vanished from a sight. A mischievous smirk appeared on my face along with a chuckle. She was dreaming the dirtiest of dreams about me. I was both surprised and honored. 

‘‘What..are you doing?’‘ I heard a sleepy voice, making me look back at Y/N: She had woken up now and she had noticed me. Y/N  turned on her back and then looked out the window, noticing it was still night. This would be fun.

‘‘Oh, I couldn’t sleep and then I heard interesting sounds coming from your room, darling. I just came to check if everything was fine’‘ I shrugged and kept my smirk plastered on, happy that I knew what I now knew. Y/N’s cheeks seemed to heat up a little bit. 

‘‘Did you have sweet dreams?’‘ I asked her and then took a look at her body, finding it hard not to. Y/N was a beautiful woman, undeniably. She was wearing a black nightgown and a golden necklace around her neck. ‘‘I-I don’t-’‘ Y/N got flustered which I liked. I could keep questioning her a bit, since this was more interesting than the midgardian book I was reading.

‘‘I assume you like candle lights’‘ I added and that put it all together for her. Y/N’s pretty eyes widened and she nearly gasped. We had talked a lot during the few weeks we had been here and I had never seen her this flustered, shy and even embarrassed. She was quite cute like this, lost for words.

‘‘Did you look into my dream?’‘ She whisper-yelled at me and threw her blanket away from her. ‘‘Maybe I did, love’‘ I answered quickly, causing her to throw a pillow at me. As I put the pillow away, I noticed that Y/N was standing in front of me. Did I piss her off? Oops.

‘‘Loki! You..urgh- that’s..so unfair!’‘ She stomped her foot on the floor. That was a sign for me to stand up as well. ‘‘Well a little magic here and there never hurt anyone’‘ I let out a light laugh. Y/N couldn’t even look me in the eye. ‘‘But- Damn.. this is awkward’‘ Y/N breathed out quietly. At least she wasn’t yelling so that was good.

‘‘It doesn’t have to be awkward’‘ I replied quickly, causing her to tense up. ‘‘Loki..’‘ She said my name almost happily until she looked angry again. ‘‘You idiot! You’re just playing around’‘ She hissed and raised her arms up in the air. I was quick to see what she did so I grabbed her wrists and pulled her closer.

‘‘Remember who you’re talking to, kitten’‘ I reminded her with a darker voice, making her look at me. Her eyes were filled with a dozen emotions, shame being quite evident. But there was also lust in there. ‘‘Loki, what are you doing?’‘ She asked me shyly and eyed my hands that held her wrists. I studied her closely and noticed how easily submissive she was. 

‘‘Whatever do you mean?’‘I teased her and turned us around so I could make her sit down on the bed. She barely put up a fight as I controlled her movements. Perfect. ‘‘Are you going to make fun of my dream?’‘ Y/N asked me and it made her look away. She was quite flustered now. Something about her made me feel different. I didn’t want to make fun of her dream.

I actually quite enjoyed her dream.

I let go of her wrists and then I grabbed her jaw, making her look at me. Our eyes met and I noticed how she slowly started affecting me, making me want to do all kinds of things to her delicate body.  ‘’Oh I won’t make fun of it dear. I got other things in mind but it’s up to you whether you want it or not’’ I let her know a little of my plans. My other hand touched her bare knee and I traced my finger on her skin, drawing goosebumps.

Y/N gulped but she didn’t back off either. ‘’And based on your exclusive dreams..’’ I spoke up again, now letting my fingers touch her thigh. Y/N separated her legs a little bit, almost magically so I could get better access. ‘’..you wouldn’t mind it one bit’’ I finished what I was saying, hoping for a positive reaction. 

Only now it came true to me how much I desired someone to touch and someone to be touched by. These past few weeks had been so long and boring and all along this woman slowly woke up my sexual dreams. Now it was pretty obvious she felt the same.

I let my palm rest on her thigh and I waited for her reaction. Y/N smiled and then nodded, looking at me very intensely. ‘’I won’t mind’’ She answered. Suddenly she grabbed my hair and pulled me in bed so I was on top of her smaller frame. Our lips met and that was the beginning of a blissful night. Also, neither one of us cared about being quiet anymore, because for that moment it was just her and me.

We’re Just Friends

Originally posted by adrypopescu

Thanks so much to darellybieber for requesting this. I loved writing it! Remember to send me requests, comments, concerns, or even a little bit about you. I’d love to get to know all of you! Thanks for the love and support as always! xx - L

Harry invites Y/N to come on vacation with him and his family, and true feelings are revealed.

Warnings: None

Word Count: 1,784

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CHAPTER SIX: YOU LIKE HIM.

PLOT SUMMARY: a multichapter imagine fic where the reader is dustin’s older siblings. follows along directly with the events of season 2. she’s friends with nancy, and drama ensues. over the course of the fic we see how the reader reacts to new challenges and a new romantic interest.  ( inspired by two other imagines that i literally can’t find for the life of me. )

CHAPTER SUMMARY: feelings develop and the reader comes to find out that steve truly does care about her.

PAIRING: SLOWBURN Steve Harrington x Fem!Reader

WARNING: Swearing and Spoilers

CHAPTERS: ONE, TWO, THREE, FOUR, FIVE

WORD COUNT: 2.2K+

After sitting in the cellar for almost two and a half hours and Steve taking it upon himself to comfort you once again. Dustin had finally gotten through the story about the Demogorgon, and the upside down. It was a lot for you to take in. And if both Steve and Dustin didn’t confirm it you would have sworn it was just a bad prank. Also the giant hole in your cellar caused you not to question it very much. A hole, by the way, that looked like it went on for miles.  

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starsfelllikerain  asked:

Please tell us more stories about the corn!!

brief preface: i live in iowa, one of the united states’ largest producers of corn (as in maize for those overseas), and worked at a corn breeding research facility. these guys are in charge of creating new lines of seed for farmers to grow; i took the job because it was the only plant science-related job i could, and it sucked but it wasn’t the worst job ive ever had and i made bank because it sucked and no one wanted to do it. there were two parts to this job: data collection and pollination. i wrote out a huge thing on the details of these and then decided it was too long and rambly so imma just gonna skip that stuff and get to the Weird Liminal Space Corn Stories:

-for data collection, our job was to take plant an ear hights in fields all around iowa, meaning that we would get to work in the morning and they would load us up into transit vans and drive us out to a random small town with a test field for testing. once we got there, we had 16-foot-tall wooden measuring sticks we would unfold and bring into the field with us, and the instructions from there were simple: 2 people on each side of the breeder. you measure the line of corn behind you by sticking ur stick next to an average looking plant and reading off first how far up on the plant the first ear of corn was, then reading off how far the base of the flag leaf was. then, you turn around to face the line of corn behind you, and while youre turning around and sticking your measuring stick into the ground on that side your partner reads there numbers, you read your second line of numbers, your partner reads their second line, and then you walk into the nearest alley and march up two lines of corn while the people on the other side of the breeder go. you read the two data points on one side. your partner reads and u turn around. you read the data points behind you. your partner does. while you are going, your breeder is walking up the field typing in the numbers on a data logger and the other team is walking up two rows. once you reach the end of the field, your breeder stops you, you walk two plots down and turn the other direction. you read off your data points, ect, you do that all the way down the field. you do this for hours until your set is done. all told, once your team of 5 people gets oriented and going, it should sound like this to you:

stick. 65, 102. turn. stick. 68, 104. pick up stick. walk down two rows. stick. 85, 102. turn. stick. 84, 103. pick up stick. walk down two rows. ect. you have to annunciate yourself and not talk to your teamates so the breeder can hear you through the corn. on windy days, you have to shout. you dont have time to stop and talk; you actually barely have time to do anything but focus on the manual task of number, turn, number, walk, number, turn, number, walk. when we were done, we would come out covered in sweat and dirt with our sticks, pile in the transit van, and drive like, the 2-3 hours back. work days were about 9 hours with 5 in the field, meaning that you worked 40 hours a week and could do overtime on weekends doing pollination (which was actually really fun). 

-no headphones. at first i thought that rule was stupid, but like, once you enter a cornfield you realize that this is because 1. if someone is screaming your name you need to be able to hear and 2. corn touches everything; when you’re in the corn, there is always something touching you. we wore special hats with veils, long pants, long shirts, eye protection, and closed toed shoes because the corn leaves are sharp and will cut you up; i have scars from this. your headphones would get ripped out within like, .3 seconds, because like corn just snags and slices up everything. 

-one time, on the hottest day of the summer, we were doing the number-turn-number-walk routine and heard someone yelling for our breeder guy. he stopped us short and called back, and like, this is the scary part about cornfields: like i said in the tags of that one post, corn swallows up sound more than anything. it’s impossible to tell where you are and impossible to hear anything, even if you scream, so its best to stay close to your team unless your doing solo work, and if you’re doing solo work like, for the love of god, keep walking in the direction youre supposed to be walking until you’re finished. trust that theres something on the other side, even if you cant see it. but anyway; hes yelling, and shes yelling, and suddenly she bursts through the corn after searching for us and says that this one kid is having a seizure. queue both of them running out of the corn and we’re just standing there. eventually we hear one of the other breeders yelling “___’s group, where are you?!” and we’re like “over here! we’re over here!” and put our sticks up, and the other breeder comes into the alley and we keep doing data points. we had like, 6 kids go home that day because of how hot it was (over 100 degrees) and we ended up not finishing the field because they decided it wasnt safe for us to work anymore. (also, kid was predisposed to seizures and they took him home, he was fine and came back to work a couple days later)

-i kind of talked about this in the tags of that other post, but i think the scariest day was the day we were in a test field a little ways away from the research center. it was kind of stormy but we were like ok whatever, we’ve gotten rained on before with no problem, queue us starting the data collection for the day. its…..really windy. like. i wish i could recreate that feel in art or something or even film it someday, because 1. when the wind blew, the whole field-which, remember, this is our whole world when we’re in there because you can’t see anything but corn in every direction- moved. like, bended, which is typical of corn because like yeah duh it does that, but its like if you were standing in a hallway and suddenly all the walls bent with the wind and so did the cieling. it was that disorienting; i actually stumbled a few times because the only steady thing was the ground and 2. it was loud, like a weird roar in the background. everything is rustling all around you at once. we had to scream our numbers for the breeder to hear us, and when i moved my measuring stick would catch the wind and drag me back a little. then, we heard thunder in the distance. our breeder was like “okay guys we’re gonna finish this field because we’re only like 4 ranges away from the road” and we’re like ok yeah, 40 plots, we can do this. the wind picked up, we kept moving at like twice the pace to get out of there, and when we reached the end it was really close and our breeder was like “come on we have to go now” and we like, picked up our sticks and ran through the corn bending around us with the thunder and everything, can i say midwestern gothic because ive never experienced midwestern gothic more than 4 teenagers with corn sticks and a dude with a data logger running through a discombobulating corn haze at 11am with thunder rolling in. we get to the edge of the field, scramble over the barbed wire fence because we are not running through the rest of the field. in a hot second more teams emerge from the field at various speeds just as it starts storming. we pack up our sticks. our team of four gets in our breeder’s pickup truck and we drive back in the rain. it was a look guys ngl

-throwback to when i just finished doing solo tagging of the ranges in the corn in a field three hours away from the research center. our breeder said to meet him back at the truck when we were done, so when i reach the end of the field having stapled on tags for around 100 ranges (about ten minutes of walking and stapling alone in a single line; these tags will help orient harvesting in the fall), i turn around and start heading straight back, because like again, when you’re in the corn alone its best to know exactly where you are and the way out is always a straight line. i start following my tagging trail back. about five minutes into walking i hear rustling near me. y’all, i was not ready, started jogging and checking behind me and after a little bit i slow down because i feel like i lost whatever it was. rustling continues like its following me. hellno.jpg, not today, i run out of the corn into the alley on the other side, decide i must have imagined it, and start walking towards the truck. as it turns out it was another one of the guys who didn’t know where to go, saw me from his row, and was following me to find his way out of the corn. almost died that day y’all

-occasionally we would visit fields to do brittle snap count, which is lining up, walking a plot, stopping, and yelling out how many broken stalks of corn we counted in the plot we just walked through, then continuing. the whole thing is that farmers understandably hate it when all their corn breaks and dies. we went to this one field that had been hit by a wind storm; it was a really hot day and we were all like dying. this is where my aforementioned scarring comes in. in cornfields, there exists a thingy called corn rash. this is where the corn hits your skin so much that it makes tiny cuts all over you, and then pollen from said corn gets in the cuts along with sweat. it is the worst time i have ever experienced in my life like literally nope would not recommend. eventually we realized that half this field of test crop was broken. like, we stopped counting the amount of plants with broken stems and instead started counting the amount of plants still standing. i was wearing all the protection i needed/that was required (so was everyone else), but it was so hot that literally all of us had corn rash and i was bleeding, big yikes. eventually our super nice breeder for the day realized that we were Struggling™ and was like ok listen we’re going back this isn’t worth it and all the corn is literally dead inexplicably anyway and then took us to get gas station ice cream after bc she felt bad for us lmao, a blessing

-talked to the breeders a lot and asked a ton of questions. learned that sunflower breeding is a thing that happens and that they’re bred to be larger to bear more seed for like, those bags of sunflower seeds you see at gas stations. the more u know

-zoo corn

-the corn in the pollination fields (the corn being bred into pure, genetically identical lines for testing….*insert Corn Discourse Concerning Loss Of Genetic Diversity Here But Not Gonna Talk About It In This Post Bc Its Already Super Long*) gets really weird mutations that i’ve talked about before

-this post got so long im sorry

tl;dr: corn is a terrifying liminal space

Are those whiskers?

Pairing: Wolfstar

Warnings: Drinking, mild smut, all the feels 


Remus was cold, again. Even under his bed covers and surrounded by books. It was as if the transition had sapped the warmth from his body, even days later. He drew the covers closer and tried to ignore the empty feeling in his bones. His eyes were beginning to droop closed, and he might even have fallen asleep if it weren’t for that thumping noise drawing closer and closer.

“YOU!” The dormitory door screeched in protest as it banged open. 

Books and papers slid across his duvet as the curtains of his four poster bed were whipped open.

“Where have you been?! I’ve been looking for you all night!” The deep voice bordered on theatrical. Remus didn’t have to look to know who it was. 

Instead he dived to save the large tome that was about to fall on Sirius’s foot. 

“I think you have the answer to that one Pads, I’ve been here.”

“And what have you been doing here?!” Accused Sirius, unperturbed.

Remus looked about the room, affronted. 

“I thought I’d work on the map…Sirius, have you been drinking?” Questioned Remus, frowning slightly. 

“Of course I’ve been drinking Moons.” Sirius’s voice had become a little throaty, Remus thought. It sounded kind of good.

Sirius swung around the four poster bed, and Remus just about managed to sweep the rest of his books aside before he collapsed on top of the bed, sighing deeply.

Remus was suddenly aware that he was wearing little more than a pair of boxers under the sheets.

“The question is, why weren’t you drinking Moony? You're​ missing the party of the year. I only left because I couldn’t find you.”

Remus concentrated on piling the books onto his bedside table.

“Pads, what party are you talking about?” He said to his nightstand.

Sirius rolled onto his stomach, pushing Remus across the bed and propping up his head on his hands. Remus did his best to ignore the way he could feel Sirius’s warmth at his side, even through the sheets.

“Sirius, what party?” Remus pushed, if only to distract himself.

“What party?!” Sirius’s exclamation turned into a frown, as he fell deep in thought.

“Actually…it was sort of impromptu…” He admitted. “I’m not entirely sure how I got there if I’m honest.” Sirius’s eyebrows knitted together.

An exasperated smile was creeping across Remus’s face. “And…why do you have…I mean, are those cat whiskers?”

Sirius gasped and nodded somberly, drawing himself even closer, so that Remus could see the smudged face paint quite clearly.

“I saw those two Hufflepuffs we tricked into doing our potions essay last week….I needed a disguise.” Sirius raised his eyebrows, as if he expected Remus to be impressed.

Remus couldn’t help the snort that escaped his lips. “Yeah, well… they don’t suit you. You’re a dog, remember?” 

Sirius slapped a hand across his face, as if he’d somehow managed to forget this fact about himself. 

“By all means” He smirked, “take them off.” 

Remus smiled, he couldn’t help it. “Maybe I will.” 

He reached into his bedside drawer, pulling out a towel and wetting it with his wand. “Stay still.” 

Sirius smirked, pushing back his hair and closing his eyes ceremoniously. 

For a moment the thought flickered across Remus’s mind that it would take just a few centimetres for him to close the gap between their lips. 

Instead he sighed and pressed the towel to Sirius’s face. His free hand drifted to Sirius’s jaw, holding him in place. It was hard not to spread his fingers out, not to slide his hand back and lose it in Sirius’s hair. To pull him forward and…

Remus shook his head and moved to the other cheek, working quickly now. 

When he moved his hand away Sirius followed. Did he imagine that, or did Sirius just lean his face into his cupped palm? Remus stayed frozen, mesmerized by the trust of Sirius’s closed eyes.  

He dropped the towel, and took the liberty of running his fingers across Sirius’s newly clean cheeks. When his eyes flickered open Remus dropped his hands guiltily. 

“All done.”

Sirius smiled. “Back to my beautiful self.” 

Remus’s snort was quickly replaced by a gasp as Sirius rolled over and wriggled under the covers.

Suddenly Sirius’s body was against his bare skin. Sirius was in his bed. Remus tried to control his erratic heartbeat, but he was only wearing boxers and Sirius was in. his. bed. Tingles burned across his skin as an oblivious boy flicked off his shoes and socks. 

“Why is your bed so much comfier than mine?!” He asked, throwing his head onto the pillow dangerously close to Remus’s face and staring at the ceiling.

“I…I thought our beds were the same.” Muttered Remus weakly.

He was suddenly intensely aware of how the back of his hand was brushing up against Sirius’s.

“Nope, yours is definitely better than mine.” Sirius said decidedly, letting out a contented sigh.

After a few minutes pause, in which Remus tried desperately to control his heartbeat, he broke the silence.

“So…you’re just going to sleep here are you?” He tried to keep his tone light as he stared determinedly at the ceiling.

“If you want me to move…” Sirius yawned, clearly crashing after his busy night, “…you’ll have to make me.” He turned his face towards Remus and closed his eyes, putting out the light with a lazy flick of his wrist.

Remus didn’t want Sirius to go anywhere, so he kept his mouth shut. If he stopped staring at the ceiling and turned his face sideways he would be practically nose to nose with Sirius, and he couldn’t decide if that was a brilliant idea, or a terrible one. Remus closed his own eyes and sighed. There was a comfortable fuzz of warmth and tiredness creeping over them.

The back of Sirius’s hand was still touching his, and one of his legs was now hooked over Remus’s. There was a steady wave of tingles rolling back and forth across Remus’s body, and he thanked Merlin Sirius hadn’t taken any clothes off, because he was pretty sure his body would have exploded.

“You’re drunk.” He murmured, as much for himself as Sirius.

“Not as drunk as you think I am.” Came the low reply.

Remus’s heart leapt, but his mouth couldn’t quite form any words.

Sirius lapsed into a sleepy silence, until, quite naturally, Remus turned his face to the side. Even though his eyes were firmly shut, he could feel Sirius’s hot breath on his lips. Sirius must have felt him too, but he didn’t move an inch. Was he asleep? Was he just drunk?

It was then Remus realized that their fingers had become intertwined. It was subtle, almost accidental, but it couldn’t be a mistake. Could it?

With his heart in his mouth, Remus made the tiniest of movements, dragging his pinky finger in the smallest of circles across Sirius’s skin.

Sirius’s wordless reply came quickly, as he mirrored his movements with his thumb, which had found its way to the top of Remus’s thigh. Nerves and pure excitement coiled in Remus’s chest. Was this really happening? He couldn’t be mistaking these signs.

Still, no words passed between the boys, and Remus stayed frozen to the pillow. But the tension in his chest kept building as the circles Sirius was teasing on his upper thigh grew bigger and bolder. With each circle he knew he couldn’t be mistaking it.

This was it. He had to do it. He wanted to do it, Merlin he wanted to do it so badly.

Hiding behind closed eyes, he inched his lips closer and closer, pulse hammering in his ears. It took almost a full minute until Remus was so close he couldn’t possibly go back. Still, he wasn’t quite sure who closed the gap, but it was happening

Sirius’s lips were soft, teasing. Remus felt the tension in his chest expand into something like euphoria. He was lost in Sirius’s musky smell, the soft feel of his hair, the press of his body, his lips, Merlin his lips. Why hadn’t he been doing this his whole life?

Remus all but moaned in protest when Sirius broke the kiss.

Finally. Merlin, I’ve been waiting so long to kiss you.” Sirius said, his voice deep and raspy.

Remus tried to form words, but Sirius’s hand was travelling along his waist, tugging their hips closer together. What left Remus’s mouth was more like a growl.

Sirius let out a chuckle that was quickly stifled by a kiss as Remus’s hand slid to his face. He leant into the touch, releasing a wave of something excitement that flooded every nerve in Remus’s body. He was greedy now, every inch of Sirius was a too-long forbidden place he could finally explore.

Their mouths came together harder and more desperately this time, and after a few moments Remus tugged at Sirius’s bottom lip, sucking and grazing his teeth over the soft skin. Before he knew it he’d let out another soft growl of satisfaction.

“You don’t know how long I’ve wanted to do that.” He murmured.

Sirius’s grin was visible even in the half darkness. “Oh I might have an idea.” He replied, sliding on top of Remus and grinding gently onto his hips. 

He leant down to Remus’s ear, “There are a few things I’ve been waiting to do to you.”

When Sirius’s fingers reached down past the soft waistband of his boxers, Remus took in a sharp breath. His face must have betrayed him, because the corners of Sirius’ mouth fell. 

Sirius pressed his hand flat against Remus’s chest, and he was sure Sirius could feel his frantic heartbeat underneath it. 

“Tell me this doesn’t feel right.” Said Sirius, his voice edged and desperate.

He leant down, pushing Remus further into the soft bed, and pressing his lips to the skin of his neck. 

“Tell me this doesn’t feel right, and I’ll stop.” He breathed. 

Remus shook his head, fighting hard not to let himself go “You’re drunk.”

Sirius drew back, focusing a long hard stare into Remus’s eyes. 

“A little.” He rasped, sliding backward and pulling Remus into a sitting position.

Sirius slid his hands around Remus’s neck, pressing their foreheads together and concentrating very hard on slowing his breathing. 

“Yeah.” He breathed. “I’m a little, little bit tipsy. But I’ve been thinking about kissing you for seven years. And I’m not sure I can wait another seven seconds.”

Sirius pulled away just far enough that he could focus on Remus’s face in the dim light. 

“But if you ask me to I will.” 

Remus stared at the boy in front of him. He already knew his world had shifted.

He pressed a thumb into Sirius’s lip, trying to convince himself this was real.

“Promise me you’ll feel the same in the morning, Sirius.” 

Warm hands cupped Remus’s face, forcing his eyes back to the grey pools in front of him.

“I promise, Remus” The way Sirius said his name already had Remus leaning forward, grabbing a handful of his soft shirt, kissing whatever skin he could reach, but Sirius didn’t stop. 

“I promise.” He murmured into Remus’s neck. “I promise.” He breathed as his lips brushed against his ear. 

“I think I’ll feel this way for the rest of my life.”