#my beloved knife idiots I wish you only the best

[linearao3]

Child Ballad

(E, 15/15)

Chapter 15: To the Greenwood

Children trust differently, Kaz thinks.

[lale-txt]

🍑 online dating headcanons: Roger pirates

part 1 w/ Whitebeard pirates (Ace, Marco, Izou, Thatch, Whitebeard) part 2 w/ Supernovas (Luffy, Zoro, Law, Kid, Killer) part 3 w/ Straw Hats (Robin, Franky, Sanji, Nami, Usopp, Jinbe, Brook)

a/n: we're back with the almost forgotten series! today with Roger pirates my beloved. as usual, sorry if i accidentally roasted your favorite. also Shanks and Buggy in this list are obviously meant to be in their 30s. since they were part of the Roger pirates, i included them here too hehe. i swear those hcs were sitting in my drafts even before the film Red teaser came out and now they're even funnier

Rayleigh

this man is poly and he’s making that clear first thing first in his profile (which is cool because his partners are also very your type)

his photos are a wild mix of his younger days and him now

what a fucking snack either way

Rayleigh is looking for a fling only, his heart is already in various hands

dark king of sexting

he’s giving off strong sugar daddy vibes with his long white hair and that sly smile, his shirt unbuttoned

unfortunately he is broke as fuck

you’ll find that out on your first date when you dine and dash

“makes first dates even more exciting, does it?”

still, you’re having the most fun you ever had in your entire life with him because he’s even more charming in real life than over text

maybe he’ll take you home, maybe he’ll stay a memory stored in filthy screenshots – either way you’re very lucky

Roger

pirateking69 entered the chat

who allowed Roger on a dating app

this man doesn’t know what he is doing but he’s having fun

always yells for Rayleigh when he got another new match until Rayleigh threatens him with a knife to make it stop (because it was happening every minute)

Roger is very popular on the dating apps because who can resist this handsome smile and the loose pink shirt, revealing what’s underneath?

he’s lucky he got the best amateur photographers on the Grand Line on his ship who would be upset if he uses his wonky mirror selfies for the apps

it’s either text after text with him or radio silence for weeks until he hits you with a friendly hello out of nowhere again

is poly like Rayleigh because like his bio says “there’s enough space in my lap for everyone”

you’re about to fact check this

Gaban

get in line bestie, all of us want a piece of that fine piece of underrated dilf

he is the embodiment of the 😎 emoji

paired with long luscious hair that he knows how to put in the spotlight in his pictures

he’s the one who will actually take care of you when his captain and first mate are too busy kissing arguing

Gaban knows how to flirt via text, though he can get a bit impatient sometimes and suggest to meet up right away often

he’ll also get bored from dating apps quickly, preferring to meet his lovers the old school way in a dirty bar or while grocery shopping

but oh, when he decided to send his nudes

the hospitals in his area report an increasing rate of heart attacks because of them

he’s too powerful for his own good

Shanks

a menace but a very sexy one

Shanks flirts himself into a new relationship every three hours

Benn, who has been smoking more ever since Shanks downloaded his first dating app, has to deal with all his love interests, making up excuses for his idiot captain while also wanting to throw said captain overboard to make it stop

granted, Shanks is a great texter even while drunk (which is often)

he likes to pop out of nowhere and disappear the same way all over again for years

like all absent fathers huh

if you manage to set up a date with the red head, don’t celebrate just yet, he might ghost you, not out of spite but because he simply forgot or because some secret family of his in the East Blue is needing him (not the rubber you wished you talked about but hey)

Shanks might sweet talk himself into a relationship but he can do the same reverse, convincing you that things just wouldn’t work out between you two and that he doesn’t deserve you at all and you really start to believe that maybe he’s right?

then why do you still sigh so heavily late at night, scrolling through your chat history?

Buggy

clown behaviour 🤡

i don’t remember writing this down but wow it’s fitting

Buggy is on the dating apps mostly for an ego boost (aren’t we all), always grinning when his phone lights up with notification about a new match

he gets really cocky about it when someone texts him first, announcing it to his crew who cheer for him all the time

compliment him and he will talk about nothing else for three days straight

actually his clumsy flirt attempts are really cute

Buggy would bang pots and pans when you ask him if he wants to meet up in real life, ghost you for three days out of fear of rejection until Cabaji and Mohji convince him to text you back with a positive response (and an apology for ghosting you)

enjoy your clown date, he’s actually really sweet

and if you find yourself swiping through his profile, wondering when Buggy got hot:

he always was, always will be

[yourheartonfire]

The minister pointed his finger at the queen. “The poison in your wine could only have come from her, your majesty! The queen is trying to kill you!” “No,” said the king. “If my wife wished to kill me she would look me in the eye and push a dagger into my chest.”

Prompt courtesy of @writing-prompt-s , as found here

"Stop joking around when you're dying!" I snarled at my idiot husband, now turning a delicate purple. The minister was backing away, so I leapt the table, ripping my dagger loose straight through the hole in my skirts.

He shrieked and tried to run, but courtly life had not been kind to his dexterity or his strength. It was child's play to take him to the ground, my blade to his throat. "What did you give him? Where is the antidote?"

The minister's eyes were wide and he was blubbering. It was an embarrassing display from a senior courtier - you'd think the man had never been in a knife fight before. "I don't - Madame, I - what are you implying?"

"You see, it wasn't me so that means it must have been you," I said sweetly to the minister. "Talk or I flay you alive from the balls up."

It was too theatrical a threat. I could see the pompous mask settle again. "Now see here-" he started.

I stabbed him. He screamed.

"Darling please," wheezed my moron husband, who should have been sitting down and conserving his breath. "We need... answer..."

"Working on it," I sang back, grinding my dagger against the minister's shoulder joint. He screamed again and a spurt of blood landed on my bodice. One of the summoned guards who'd been hovering turned away, his face green. Honestly, I was going to have to fire everyone next week. "I realize these aren't your balls. This is the warning stab to make my point that I am quite serious." I pulled my stiletto from my hair, considered the thin blade critically. "Not the best weapon for the job, but I'll make do. Might have to stab your balls a bit instead of flaying."

I reached down for his pants.

"Wait!" the minister screamed. "It's golden rest vine. Golden rest vine!"

There were gasps through the court. At least a couple were clearly fake and I cursed my inability to look in all directions at once.

"Never heard of it." I slit the fabric open. "I hope for your balls' sake there's an antidote."

"I know! I know that one!" We all turned to look at the little court doctor, hitherto best noted for their ability to fall asleep on two glasses of wine. They blushed but kept their hand up like they were in school. "Standard milkweed powder and brandy."

"Then go get it," I hissed and the only member of the court staff who was still going to have their job next week bobbled off at full speed. I turned back to the minister cowering at my feet. "You're a coward and a traitor," I declared. And incompetent, I added but only mentally as I couldn't very well critique an enemy assassin for that quality. "Guards, take him away to stand trial at the king's pleasure."

Now that I'd done all their job for them, the guards rushed in a great clank of armor to drag the stupid man away. That handled, I turned back to the stupid man I'd married.

The doctor was already back, trying to feed my husband a cup with their hands shaking worse than his. "Great... great work, my love," he wheezed.

"No. Beloved. Rest," I said and grabbed him by the nose. His jaw flapped open and the doctor poured the draught down his gullet. I crushed his head to my breast in a tender embrace before he could spit it out.

"How dare you try to die on me?" I hissed in his ear. "I told you your death is mine when I'm done with you!"

My husband wriggled his head free to look up at me, his color already returning. "Yes, dear," he whispered back with his stupid, inane smile entirely inappropriate to a man nearly killed by a greedy minister and incompetent staff. He touched my face gently. His fingers came away wet. "Don't cry, love. I'll be fine."

"I am not crying!" I protested, but my husband forestalled further argument on the topic by turning his head and emptying the contents of his stomach across my skirts. In the ensuing clean up of yet another mess, he slipped into gentle rest before I could conclusively prove him wrong.

Another thing I'd have to get revenge for. Another reason - no, another obligation to keep the idiot alive, no matter how exhausting.

It's a hard thing, proper revenge, but absolutely worth doing right. I'd get him. Someday.

[jiejie-eonni-onee-sama]

The King’s precious gem...

For the sweet @marilynmonroefanfics​

Hope you will enjoy this story!

"Here comes King consort (Y/N) of Mirkwood!"

"This social climber? Don't even talk to me about this little nobody!"

"Quiet! If King Thranduil hears you, he will make you pay! The last one who dared disrespect his husband ended up in jail for almost 20 years. Luckily for him, (Y/N) pardoned him. Besides, the people loved him!"

(Y/N) did not care about those gossips on his trail: he knew he deserved his place next to the king. What a long way since he was only a healer!

The young elf can heal since his younger days. Noticed for his gifts, he succeeded in working at the royal court. However, he did not expect to be the friend and confidant of Prince Legolas.

The two young men fought together against the Orcs or any enemy of their kingdom.

One day, (Y/N) managed to save the life of Legolas when the latter fell ill. Worried about his son's safety, King Thranduil hired the best healers of his kingdom to treat him. Only (Y/N) managed to heal the young prince.

Grateful, the monarch allowed him to stay in the court. Then, he started to get interested in this young healer who can play with a knife and medicine. The elf king always found an excuse to spend more time with (Y/N).

Slowly, a romance blossomed between them, much to the surprise of Legolas. 

When the court heard about this affair, it was a shock for many of the royal counselors. Indeed, they took a very dim view of this young commoner. However, the people immediately loved (Y/N) and accepted him as their new king consort.

Since this day, (Y/N) was allowed to sit next to The King. And today, he felt his presence would be helpful for his husband, as the latter was about to greet a delegation of dwarves. This delegation was led by Thorin Oakenshield, the grandson of Thror, King of Erebor. It sounds like his beloved husband would need his help.

It is necessary to say that between Thranduil and the Erebor royal family, there was a feud that lasted for years. 

As he arrived in the throne room, a servant announced:

"His Majesty King Consort (Y/N) of Mirkwood!"

Slightly smiling, the young man saw Thranduil sitting on his throne. 

The monarch talked with a guard:

"Let those dwarves coming here. However, be careful with this Thorin Oaekenshield: I fear he might be like his grandfather..."

"All the guards will be vigilant, Your Majesty!" stated the armored man as he saluted his king before leaving the room.

Thranduil turned his hand and gently gestured to his husband:

"Come here, my love."

"This is what I intended to do, my adored." (Y/N) smiled as he sat on his throne.

Thranduil reached (Y/N)'s hand and held it.

"I am glad that you find some time for me."

"Well, I know this meeting is capital for you. Besides, I would like you to avoid a new feud between our people and the dwarves of Erebor."

The elf king sighed.

"What can I say? You cannot trust dwarves. Especially those who come from under the mountains."

"Who knows? Maybe Thorin would be different..."

Thranduil scoffed.

"I wish I was optimistic like you, my sunflower."

"Let see..."

Suddenly, a guard shouted:

"Thorin Oakenshield and his delegation are here, Your Majesties. Gandalf the Grey is here too!"

"What this wizard is doing here?" grumbled Thranduil.

"We'll see in time..."

Shortly after, the company of Thorin Oakenshield arrived in the throne room. Among the dwarves, (Y/N) noticed a hobbit, which surprised him.

But, much to his delight, he noticed the presence of Gandalf.

"Dear Gandalf, what a pleasure to see you!"

The old wizard politely bowed with a smile:

"The pleasure is reciprocated, King (Y/N)."

As for Thranduil and Thorin, they stared stonily at each other. The Durin dynasty and the Elf King always had difficult contacts. All the story with Smaug did not improve it, and even if Thorin finally regain his throne, he never forgave Thranduil for giving up on his people when they needed help.

"Greetings, o delegation of Erebor. I hope the journey was not too arduous," said Thranduil with a cold tone.

"It went well, Your Majesty," politely said Balin with a respectful bow.

"It is a pleasure finally meeting the brave company of Thorin Oakenshield. The same company who dared fight Smaug The Terrible and gained back their kingdom," added (Y/N) with a gentle smile.

All the dwarves giggled with a blush on their faces. They all heard about King (Y/N) of Mirkwood, known as "The Gentle King" by all realms. Even Dwalin, who could not stand elves, was not able to resist.

The two kings started to negotiate new treaties between their respective kingdoms. Unfortunately, as they were both stubborn, they did not agree on anything.

"WHAT? YOU WANT US TO SELL OUR METAL? THAT IS DAYLIGHT ROBBERY!" yelled Thorin.

"It is ABSOLUTELY out of the question that my people would low the price of our wooden crafts," replied Thranduil with anger.

As for the other dwarves, they stayed silent while watching their sovereign sparring verbally with The Elvenking.

Meanwhile, Gandalf talked with (Y/N).

"I expected that they would fight. I hope you're not annoyed, dear (Y/N)."

"Not really, my dear wizard: I am not surprised by their behavior. They never got along, and I am afraid it will not change."

Suddenly, (Y/N)  noticed Bilbo slowly coming towards him. Gandalf exclaimed:

"Ah, I forgot! I should introduce you to our dear Hobbit! Master Baggins, this is King (Y/N) of Mirkwood. King (Y/N), I would like to introduce Bilbo Baggins to you. Without his talents, this quest would have failed."

Intimidated, the Hobbit awkwardly bowed:

"It is an honor to meet you, Your Majesty."

"It is a pleasure to meet you too, Mister Baggins."

Catching his breath, Bilbo replied:

"I have to say, Your Majesty: when I told all the inhabitants of Hobbiton that I would meet you, they all ask me to check if you were as handsome and benevolent as the songs said..."

The King consort asked, amused:

"And do I meet your expectations, Master Baggins?"

Bilbo brightly blushed before replying:

"The truth is, O (Y/N), the songs did not have enough words to praise your handsomeness and kindness."

"That is very kind of you, Mister Baggins."

Fidgeting his fingers, the Hobbit:

"May I ask you something, O generous monarch?"

"What is it, Mister Baggins?"

"Well... The people of Hobbiton want to have proof that I met you. And I would like to know if you could provide me some evidence."

The King consort smiled:

"Did they ask for something in particular?"

"Not really."

"Then, I think I can help you," replied (Y/N) as he cut one of his dark locks. 

Then, he put in a golden pendant, engraved with his portrait, before handing it to Bilbo Baggins.

"When you will come back home, tell your people that it is the present from the King consort of Mirkwood to the bravest Hobbit."

The Hobbit stared with amazement at this gift. 

He stammered:

"Your Majesty... I have no words to tell you how grateful I am!"

"There is no need, Master Baggins: your actions speak louder than your words."

(Y/N) did not notice that Fili was looking at him with adoring eyes.

Indeed, the nephew of Thorin swore he never met such a handsome man in all realms. It such a shame this perfect elf married Thranduil. 

He came towards (Y/N) and politely said:

"I am pleased to meet you, King (Y/N)."

"The pleasure is mine, Prince Fili."

The young Dwarf prince felt his heart skipping a beat: this voice! It was like hearing millions of birds singing in harmony.

Clearing his throat, he asked:

"Your Majesty, may I ask you something?"

"Of course. What is it?"

To the surprise of all the people gathered in the room, Fili asked:

"Are you aware that your handsomeness is the most deadly weapon of all realms?"

All stopped talking - or yelling - and looked at the scene with surprise on their faces.

As for (Y/N), he was astonished by this question.

"Well, I am not aware that I am dangerous to this point. Could you tell why?"

Smirking, Fili declaimed:

"Like a battering ram,

Your smile makes the walls around my heart crumbling down.

Like a sharpened sword,

Your eyes destroyed the shield that protects my mind.

Like an arrow,

Your voice pierced me to the core.

And like a defeated army,

I surrender to the love I feel for you."

"WHAT?" exclaimed (Y/N).

"How dare you, you filthy dwarf!" yelled Thranduil.

"Do not use that tone with my nephew!" scolded Thorin.

Unaware of the upcoming threat, Fili pursued his declaration:

"It is the truth! You're so handsome, kind, wise, and pure. You deserve better than those arrogant elves!"

"Fili, shut up!" gritted Kili.

Feeling the anger boiling in the eyes of the Elvenking, Gandalf tried to calm the situation.

"Your Majesty, please forgive this young dwarf. He lets the ardor of youth speaking louder than his reason," he said while giving a slight slap on Fili's head.

Balin pinched the bridge of his nose and sighed: not only he had to deal with the short-tempered dwarf king, but he had to handle his carefree prince.

As for Dwalin, he inwardly chuckled: he despised Thranduil, and seeing Fili courting the King consort of Mirkwood amused him.

Meanwhile, Fili claimed his love for (Y/N):

"Come to Erebor, o blossoming orchid. I would make you the happiest prince of all realms."

"Listen, Fili: your gentleness towards me is moving. But, in case you are not aware, I am married and happy!"

"And I would let no one, and especially NO DWARF, courting my spouse!" fumed Thranduil.

When he heard that, Fili had a deadpan expression on his face and declared:

"Then, I know what I have to do..."

"What do you mean?" asked Balin, sweating with dread.

"Why I fear he might say something stupid?" muttered Bilbo.

They were not out of the woods!

"I, Fili, son of Dis, grandson of Thrain, solemnly demand the hand of (Y/N) of Mirkwood as my husband!"

"WHAT?" yelled the dwarves.

"Oh no!" groaned Kili as he facepalmed.

As for Gandalf, he feared that Thranduil would be mad. And it was the case!

"Stay away from my husband, you idiot!"

Thorin snickered, which angered the elf king.

"May I know what causes your hilarity, Thorin Oakenshield?"

"At least, it proves that my nephew has good taste. And perhaps (Y/N) will appreciate our beautiful kingdom, far from your bunches of hypocrites!" replied the latter.

"What do you mean?"

"Either you are deaf, or blind... or stupid. But I find it hard not to notice that your royal boot-lickers are not happy to see a consort that is not from royal lineage!"

"Please, can we go back to the negotiations?" pleaded Balin.

"Not until this idiot stops courting my husband!" yelled Thranduil.

"Oh, shut up, you pointed-ears princess: nobody asked for your opinion!" growled Bombur.

"Guys, stop it!" begged Bilbo.

"Besides, Fili: it is not possible to marry (Y/N)!" explained Kili.

"And why?"

"First of all, he is already married! Secondly, he is an elf from the woods. He does not belong to the mines, neither the mountain!"

"Ah, I did not think about this... Ah, I have a plan! I shall create a beautiful garden on one of the mountain plateaus!"

"Oh, so you can plant something else than a vegetable patch?" said Thranduil with irony.

"You want to fight?" screamed Oin.

All this argument created chaos that gets on the nerves of the wizard.

"CALM DOWN, ALL OF YOU!" ordered Gandalf in a booming voice.

All immediately stood silent, terrified by the charisma of Gandalf.

Once the silence fell on the room, the wizard said:

"I did not try to stop a war for enduring your silly bickerings!"

"But..." protested Thorin.

"DO NOT DARE CONTRADICTING ME!"

As for (Y/N), he decided to put an end to this mess.

He turned to Fili and declared in a soft voice:

"Fili, I would like you to listen to me carefully!"

The latter nodded, afraid of the answer.

"I am all ears, (Y/N)."

"Fili of Erebor, I appreciate your compliments towards me because I feel they were sincere and pure. But for once and all, I am already married to the man I love more than my own life. 

I am aware that I am just a gold digger, a social climber for many royal counselors. A little nobody that does not deserves to wear the crown of Mirkwood. But do I care? No. 

Because all the elven people love me, Legolas helped me, and my husband would never let me go. It is more than enough for me..."

Fili sighed.

"And to say I was thrilled to introduce you to Mum. I am sure she would love you!"

"I have no doubt. But I belong to Mirkwood and his king, against all odds."

"Besides, I am sure that Mother would surely want you alive and not beheaded by a MAD ELF KING because you try to steal him his husband, you jackass!" replied Kili, fed up with his brother's shenanigans.

"Anyway, we sorted this story, and there is nothing to worry about!" wisely said Gandalf.

"I hope so..." coldly stated Thranduil.

A few hours later, the dwarves and the Elvenking managed to find some common ground. Then, Thorin and his company went back to their kingdom, followed by Gandalf and Bilbo.

As he nearly walked out of the door, Fili shouted to (Y/N):

"Dear (Y/N), if one day you come to Erebor, I promise I will show you the garden I create for you. I keep my words!"

"I can't wait to see it, dear Fili!" smirked the king consort of Mirkwood.

Once the delegation left, Thranduil sighed and said:

"Finally, they're gone! I swear to the moon that those dwarves would kill me!"

"Well, you managed to survive. Speaking of surviving, I am surprised that you did not kill Fili on the spot!"

"My dear daffodil, you have no idea how much I wanted to cut off his head!"

Amused by this fit of jealousy, (Y/N) asked:

"But you know I would never leave you, right?"

The Elvenking gently smiled and held the hand of his husband.

"No doubt about you shall ever cross my mind, dear.I know you will never leave me."

He gently kissed (Y/N)'s hand before the pair exited the room. 

On their way, the king asked:

"Now, my waterlily, could you tell me the names of my royal counselors who disrespected you? I think I might need to have a little conversation with them..."

"I assure you, Thranduil, there is no need..."

Thranduil gently shushed his consort by putting his finger on (Y/N)'s lips.

"I have to do it, my love. After all, no one dares to be rude towards the King's precious gem without suffering consequences!"

Slightly blushing, (Y/N) smiled at this compliment. 

And as they went to the dining room, (Y/N) felt like something new arrived in Mirkwood. He believed that one day, the court would not look at him as (Y/N) the little nobody with a crown, but as (Y/N) of Mirkwood, the king consort of this kingdom and the King's precious gem. 

Long live the kings...

Thanks for the reading!

I hope you enjoy the story and I can’t wait to see future requests!

See you soon and take care! 😘🥰😍

[amandaoftherosemire]

Ice and Moonlight -- Part One

Fandom: Marvel Avengers AU

Pairing: Loki Odinson X Asgardian!Reader

Characters: Loki Odinson, Thor Odinson, Valkyrie, OFC Cassie

Author: @amandaoftherosemire

Rating: Explicit

Word Count: 4,183

Format: Short Series

Warnings: Smut (very light), 18+ only, language, fluff, angst

Summary: You and Loki had been inseparable until his discovery of his true origins and his father’s deceptions. You only spoke to him once more before his sacrifice on Svartlfheim. After his death, heartbroken and left with nothing but unanswered questions, you’d left Asgard to find your fortunes on Midgard. One night, and once again not dead, Loki walks back into your life. The bastard.

A/N: I have a deep weakness for Hozier and this story is absolutely inspired by the chorus of ‘Work Song.’ When music puts a story in my brain, I tend to produce a barrage of words, so this is another one-shot that got away from me. Anyone who has been reading my stuff for awhile will know that this happens to me a lot, but the next part will be up in a couple of weeks at most. I’d be more specific, but I’m still buried in my personal life and eking out time to write so I don’t want to make promises I can’t keep.

This is canon adjacent through Thor: Ragnarok but I split off at that point to keep Loki alive without dealing with the consequences of IW and Endgame. For the purposes of this story, Thanos got super busy playing with a kitten he found, and Infinity War never happened.

Mischief // Malice // Magic

Mischief

You could smell them the moment they walked in, even over the myriad other smells that inundated the air of the bar. That air was redolent with smoke, liquor, wood, humanity, but when the door opened, the air that followed the men carried rain and ozone, ice and moonlight to your nose and you knew they'd found you. Those scents were as familiar to you as your own face, your own name, as there'd never been a day in your memory that you hadn't known and loved them.

The ice and moonlight would have been more of a surprise if your best friend in this realm and any other, Cassie of the wicked laugh and mean left hook, hadn't come barreling into your room this morning to show you the news report she'd been watching on her phone. You'd seen the royal brothers, plural, and the shriek of rage and betrayal hadn't quite clawed its way out of your throat before the rest of the report left you breathless with grief.

Asgard, of golden spires and shining seas, was gone, destroyed in prophesied Ragnarok. Your people were a remnant, refugees in an uncertain universe. You may have left Asgard, but you had intended to go back home, someday. Now someday would never come.

You would have gone to your people right away, offered your comfort to Thor, whom you loved as a brother, except Loki stood at his side and you hadn't yet decided if you were going to acknowledge his second return from the dead. You still hadn't really dealt with his first return.

You didn't look up, merely continued to flick your fingers over the keys of the piano, an instrument you'd taken to almost as soon as you'd set foot on Midgard. Heimdall had set you down in the parking lot of this bar, owned by the sharp-eyed, smart-mouthed Cassie. She'd taken one look, seen a babe in the woods, though a babe that could bench press a semi, and taken you under her wing. In return, you sang for your supper, kept her bar safe and entertained.

You'd found your voice here, a very different one from the ethereal thing that had once lifted out of you like angel song. You could still awe Midgardians with a soaring soprano, but you much preferred the richer, rawer voice you'd found here in the smoke and the dark. Your voice no longer lifted, but poured out of you, fueled by heartbreak Midgardians couldn't fathom, nor could they resist. You packed them in every night to hear the angel that fell to Earth, to witness the magic you made with your voice.

Loki couldn't understand why Thor had dragged him halfway across this horrid little planet to visit another horrid little corner of it. He would have much preferred to find some place plush, comfortable, and quiet to escape, tired of humanity after less than a week in their presence. He enjoyed the fact that he was infamous but would have preferred a little less breathless terror and a little more deferential respect.

Thor immediately sauntered up to the bar, leaning in to grin at the bartender. Though he was wearing jeans and a t-shirt in red that stretched across his massive chest in fascinating and delicious ways, there could be no doubt that he was more than an ordinary man by the scent of ozone and power that hung on him. Cassie merely lifted a brow, wishing she could allow herself to be charmed, but she recognized the pale man behind him as the one who'd, as she thought of it, set you on fire. Loki, gorgeously out of place in a smoke gray suit, sneered at the dark woman whose equally dark eyes were judgmental as they rested on him. Hostility rolled off of her in waves as she stared him down.

Which is how she saw the change come over him when your voice began to wind through the air, twining around the smoke with the same rough warmth. She wondered at the stricken look of hope and despair that chased each other across his face; she'd heard the story from you and knew your last interaction to be viciously ugly, shortly before his supposed death.

Thor was trying to charm the bartender into giving him an unusually large quantity of liquor for Midgard, experienced with human bartenders doubting his usual order. Cassie was letting him, laughing at his earnest explanations. She lived with an Asgardian and knew well their capacity for drink, but he was cute, and she couldn’t resist teasing him.

Cassie didn't know that you'd rarely overindulged on Asgard, too often responsible for the song part of the wine and song celebrations. Thor had known you were here, but he'd remembered his naïve and sheltered friend and Loki's devoted beloved. He didn't know Cassie's rough and tumble bouncer and backup for every ridiculous thing that came out of her mouth.

You'd finished so, so many fights Cassie had started.

Loki, meanwhile, was staring at you as your voice wound into his head, sinking into his gut, sending shivers of heat over his skin. There'd once been a time when the only way he heard your voice this rough and wild was when you were moving under his hands, your body prey to his mouth and rocking him to madness. Now your glorious voice was mated to that sensual rasp and dragging him back to happier days.

'Loki.' He smiled but didn't open his eyes. He could feel the petals of the flower you were toying with brush over his lips. The sun was shining and all he could smell was the warm scent of flowers and you. 'Loki. Are you sleeping, Loki? Loki.' He could hear the laugh in your voice and the sound was so pretty he kept feigning sleep so that you'd keep playing. When he was alone with you, basking in your complete and absolute devotion, he could forget everyone else.

Then you were leaning close, whispering 'Loki' in a tone so sweet it made tears prick at his eyes. You brushed your lips against his, even softer than flower petals, and the low hum in your throat was seducing him, beguiling him. His arms lifted, one hand cupping the back of your head while the other snaked around your waist. In the next moment, he was rolling with you until you were giggling on your back in amongst the flowers, Loki braced over you, green eyes laughing.

'I knew you were awake," you murmured as you drew his mouth down to yours.

 "Loki." Thor clapped him on the shoulder and brought him back to the present, on the Earth you'd escaped to rather than live in an Asgard where you were forever reminded of him, of everything you'd lost. Loki had allowed Thor to believe that Heimdall had been charged with dereliction of duty because he had discovered Loki was impersonating Odin. Rather, Heimdall had let you leave through the Bifrost and refused to say where he'd sent you. Loki had completely lost his temper that day, and when Heimdall went on the run, he'd lost his chance permanently to find out where you'd gone.

Loki saw immediately, however, that Thor had known exactly who he'd find here.

"This is the lovely Cassandra," Thor told Loki, his remaining eye gentle on Loki's shining green. "She has been caring for our Y/N while she has been here."

"Ha!" Cassie barked the laugh and made both Thor and Loki frown at her. "Bitch can take care of herself." Loki's mouth opened to snarl at the insult to you when Thor's hand restrained him. Cassie was already lifting her voice over the applause that broke out at the end of your song. "Hey, Y/N! I got some boys back here think I take care of you."

A rumble of laughter went through the crowd, most of them regulars, many of them witness to at least one of many, many occasions upon which you'd saved Cassie from a fist in the face, and in one case so far, a knife in the gut. Thor and Loki looked around in confusion at the good-natured sound.

"Now, Cassie," you called back, your fingers moving into the opening notes of a more suggestive song, one you sang on a regular basis, "those boys are Asgardians." You smirked and sent a hot look over your piano at your audience. "I was a Lady, before I fell into this den of iniquity." The crowd cheered when you launched into the song and Thor and Loki shared a look, Thor gleeful, Loki shocked.

 Loki stood next to his mother, watching his idiot brother work the crowd, the conceited ass, and fought the urge to roll his eyes. He glanced across to where you stood in the crowd, so close to the royal dais that he could be at your side in half a moment. You were applauding politely, but you didn't bother to resist, rolling your eyes at every ridiculous stunt of Thor's. Loki knew you were going to mock his brother relentlessly for all of this for years to come.

He could hardly wait.

He kept his eyes on you as much as possible, your smiling face keeping him calm even as his heart jumped and jumped with the excitement of his latest mischief. Any moment…

Trying to settle, he focused on the demure neckline of your dress, imagining brushing his lips over the discreet swell there. You were always demure, always a perfect lady in public; he knew one day you'd be a perfect princess, though most important was that you were perfect for him, for each other. You even laughed at the pranks he played on you.

Of course, he was always careful not to play too rough with you. You were too precious to treat with anything less than reverence.

Which is why he felt a rare pang of remorse when he heard his father say, 'The Frost Giants," and he saw terror flash in your eyes. He cursed himself for a fool when he remembered that you'd lived in fear of Frost Giants for years as a child after hearing the story of your father's death.

Your eyes stayed on his face, wide with fear and worry and he could see your hands clasped together in front of you, the knuckles white. His lips curved slightly to reassure. The sight seemed to help as you smiled back, if only a little, and he felt a rush of pride that you, glorious creature that you were, preferred him above all others.

He knew some whispered that he'd ensorcelled you, that there was no other explanation for the fact that the brightest jewel in Odin's court draped herself on the dark Prince's arm. There was no doubt you could charm anyone, including the elder Odinson if you so chose; it was incomprehensible that you should choose the younger.

You'd been raised in the palace alongside them when your father had been killed saving Odin during the War with Jotunheim. You'd been a babe yourself and had grown up with the royal brothers. Even as children, you'd always sought Loki's company, and the whispers of enchantment remained only whispers.

Loki felt another pang of remorse at using Frost Giants to ruin his brother's day when he remembered how much you'd feared them as a child. He made a note to himself to make sweet love to you later to distract you from old fears, find a way to assure you that the monsters couldn't come back. Above all, he'd use other tools in the future.

 Your eyes met his, as though no one else existed, snapping him out of his reverie and bringing him hurtling back to this place where the lady you’d been was dead with your homeworld. He was unsurprised to discover he was rock hard. If he'd ever been able to resist temptation, it hadn't been when you tempted, and he was far less virtuous than he used to be. He was enthralled by the sharp edge to your voice and the wild storms in your eyes, would also be unsurprised should he fall in love with you all over again.

Your eyes were hot with old memories and he wondered if the same ones tormented you. He no longer heard Thor flirting with the angry-eyed bartender, unable to care about her hostility. He recognized her as another that you'd enchanted by being yourself and appreciated the Midgardian's protectiveness, since it was you. He easily ignored the sexual by-play behind him; all he could hear was you, and the ache that hot rasp inspired in his gut was sharp and painful. He wouldn't beg for much in this universe, but he thought you might be the exception.

Loki paused in the hidden corridor behind the wall of your bedchamber, looking down at the hand the Jotun had touched. He could still see the striated blue racing up his arm and the memory was making him feel cold deep, deep inside. He wasn't sure he would be here now if he hadn't promised to come see you. He could hardly believe it had been only a few short hours ago that he'd last spoken with you, pausing a moment to kiss you on his way to Thor. You'd whispered sultrily in invitation that he'd have to sleep with you until they discovered how the Frost Giants had gotten in; he'd whispered back that if he'd known that would be the consequence, he'd have let them in himself.

If he'd known how this day would end, he'd have done anything but.

'Loki?' Your voice was a raspy whisper in the shimmering dark as he slid in between your sheets. He'd promised to come to you as soon as he'd calmed everyone down, expecting to be here hours ago, not really anticipating that it'd be so easy to taunt his brother into going to Jotunheim. Even if he hadn't promised, upon the return from that icy land and the shocking discovery there, followed immediately by the confrontation between his brother and father, he needed to find some semblance of peace. You, if nothing else, remained constant.

For a moment he hesitated, unwilling for reasons he didn't want to examine to touch you with the hand touched by Frost Giants. That hand had betrayed some secret, some hidden aspect to himself that he'd never suspected, sending whispers of fear through him. But after everything that had happened that night, he needed you. His arm slid around your waist to pull you close. 'My love,' he murmured, burying his face in the skin of your neck and breathing deep, his heart racing with a terror he couldn't, wouldn't name.

'Was he that bad?' You turned in his arms to offer comfort, able to hear plainly the lost and broken tone in his voice. Thor could be thoughtless in ill temper and often hurt Loki because he saw only his own pain and frustration. You had long ago become accustomed to tending to Loki when he’d taken a stray lightning bolt.

'I can't--' His voice choked off, but with an emotion you weren't certain you could truly name. You wrapped yourself around him, burying your hands in his hair to hold him close, worried at the pain you thought you heard. As you opened your mouth to ask why he sounded so upset he took a deep breath. 'Please, love. Let's not speak of it tonight. Let me--' His voice cut off when his mouth met yours.

Part of you wanted to pull away, to demand he tell you what happened that put this desperation in his touch, the fear in his kiss, the pain in his voice. But there was that desperation, that fear, that pain and you couldn't stop yourself from reaching, opening to comfort, to reassure. You loved Loki with all of your heart. If he needed you, all he had to do was ask. You gave him all he wanted and more, eager under his hands, diabolical with your own.

'Love me?' he gasped once you were straddling him, connected, your hips driving him out of his mind as you twisted and rocked against him.

When you and he were alone together, all the realms fell away. 'More than anyone in the universe.' You moaned it, your eyes direct on his; you loved the way his hands tightened on your hips the more vocal you were.

Except tonight he looked wild, urgent, like he needed you to convince him. 'Forever?'

You leaned close, leading with your heart. Your body flowed against him in a graceful wave, your eyes soft in the shimmering light from the nebula streaming through your window. 'And always.'

'Do you promise, love?' Loki's arms came around you, pressing you to his chest, his heart clutching in terror even as your skin against his drove him higher. 'No matter what?'

'Oh, love, I promise,' you whispered gently, your hands cupping his beautiful face. 'Even if you got stuck pretending to be Volstagg.'

Loki's heart lifted in wonder when the laugh lifted out of him at the wicked look on your face. Only you knew when and how to tease him when he was most hurt, most insecure. Only you could make a solemn vow into a loving joke. He was reassured even as the laughter eased the tightness in his throat. With a burst of movement, he was tumbling you onto your back, to stroke into you more forcefully, wanting to forget everything but you.

'Ah, love,' he purred in a chuckle, 'no wonder they think I put a spell on you.'

 Loki could have sagged when your eyes released him to turn with a smile upon your audience. He was pleased to hear the enthusiastic applause, gratified that you were as adored on Midgard as you had been on Asgard. He relented, a little. He could not hate a people that recognized your worth.

The memories were still dark in his eyes when you stood and he could have knelt in supplication at the sight of you, not in demure Asgardian garb, but in casual Midgardian clothing that revealed the body he'd never stopped dreaming of. Clad in denim that hugged your legs, reminding him of the way they'd felt wrapped around him, and a sweater in bright, Asgardian gold, you looked strong and capable, like you'd found a power and purpose that had eluded you at home. He wondered now what singing for humans did for you that singing for your own kind had not because your voice had turned to fire and fury, and he could hear a passion that hadn't been there before. 

"Because I get the question on a regular basis," as you spoke you circled the piano and leaned against it, crossing your legs at the ankle and bracing your elbows on top, “yes, I know Thor.” You smirked hen the man in question turned to look at you. “And I'm about to prove it. Get your ass up here, you big, beautiful bastard," you shouted with a growl at the grinning God of Thunder, who responded with a running leap onto the stage to snatch you up into a bear hug. You laughed when he squeezed you tight enough to make you squeak, and the people who'd seen you wreck worlds with your fists snickered at the sound.

 You stared at Thor, your mind blank with horror. Loki couldn't be gone, couldn't have done what Thor was saying he'd done. He'd been upset and hurting the last time you saw him, only a couple nights before, but he'd been himself. He'd left your bed with a kiss the night of Thor's banishment, claiming he needed to speak with his father, and you'd understood. Though you hadn't seen him since, his continued absence from your company made sense with the news of the Allfather's sudden collapse after Thor's exile.

Thor had found you in Loki's rooms the night he’d returned to Asgard, where you'd been waiting. You'd intended to talk to Loki, comfort him, when he was able to finally rest and had snuck in so you wouldn't miss him. You'd fallen asleep in his bed, comforted by his scent. You'd awoken to a new world, a new life and you wanted to climb back in, go back to a world that made sense, a world where your dearest love wasn't a mad monster that tried to kill his brother or destroy an entire realm.

A world where your dearest love wouldn't leave you.

A year later, you stood with your hands in Thor's, your eyes fierce and wild on his. 'I know I'm not being fair,' you said, and though his eyes stayed hard, his hands were gentle around yours. The two of you had become the dearest of friends, grieving the man you'd both loved and lost. Only Thor could truly understand the confused betrayal left to you in the wake of Loki's death. The news that he was still alive had left you feeling only more confused and betrayed.

'You may ask the unfair of me, dear one,' Thor murmured as he lifted your hands to his lips. He was about to leave, the Allfather amassing the energy to send him to Midgard.

'Please, bring him home. Tell him…' You paused, a thousand things both devoted and bitter choking you. You'd save those things for Loki's ears alone. Instead, you looked at Thor's face with shining eyes. Your voice a little angry, you went on. 'Tell him I still love him. No matter what.'

Thor's lips curved at the fury that colored your tone. Loki, if he could be reasoned with, would be coming home to a much less accommodating Y/N. 'If anything can reach him now, it would be you.' His father shouted and he squeezed your hands before letting go. 'I'll tell him.'

You watched Thor run toward the portal of energy His Majesty wielded, and hoped he was right. The moment Loki had let go, deliberately falling from the Bifrost, you'd begun to doubt.

You cupped Thor's pretty face in your hands, looking over the shorn hair, the patch covering his lost eye, the grief in bright turquoise. "Sweet Prince," you said, softly, your old nickname for him falling easily from your lips and making tears prick at Thor's eye. "You've traveled a long way without rest, haven't you?'

The wry understanding in your eyes had Thor huffing out a weary laugh. "Oh, Y/N. You have no idea."

"Come with me," you said, briskly, turning with Thor and sliding your arm through his to lead him back to the bar. Your audience was dismayed but understanding. You’d started your set with a song honoring and mourning Asgard. "Cassie knows how to water an Asgardian. If she said otherwise, she was fucking with you."

Loki had been watching from the back of the room, his gut curdling with jealousy as he saw how familiar you and Thor were with each other. You'd considered Thor family your entire life, but you'd never been close, your preference for Loki leading you to find Thor irritating a lot of the time. He hadn't seen Thor's humility, his remorse after his time on Midgard, hadn't seen the two of you, siblings in all but blood, become friends as well.

When you turned in his direction, he felt the urge to flee, to hide from the bleak amusement curving your lips, the condemnation in your eyes. You and he had never been anything resembling siblings. His feet were planted, however, his knees weak and in the next moment you were next to him, leaning on the bar to tease your Midgardian friend. Your scent wound into his head and left him dizzy as you took three glasses and a jug with no label from the other woman. If Thor hadn't clamped a hand on his shoulder, he didn't know that he would have been able to follow you behind the bar to a small room in the back.

You gestured the brothers to the couch against the wall, handing both of them a glass filled with the mead you'd taught Cassie to make. You still hadn't acknowledged Loki as anything more than Thor's companion, had decided being rude would be less insulting to Loki than pretending you didn't know him at all. Once you'd filled your own glass, you dropped into the chair behind Cassie's desk and propped your feet up. 

"So. What did you do?" Thor's grin flashed at the stern disapproval aimed his way, twisting your eyebrows over a mouth twitching with mild amusement. Then your face softened with sympathy and sadness, and jealousy burned under Loki’s sternum. You'd once shown him all this loving kindness, now you'd barely glanced at him. Until that stern eyebrow lifted in his direction and he felt pinned, like an insect. "How'd you boys manage to set off Ragnarok?"

Part Two: Malice

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[alysmarylin]

Breakup Thoughts - Good Omens Fic

“Friends? We’re not friends. We are an angel and a demon, we have nothing whatsoever in common, I don’t even like you!”

Crowley tried really hard not to scoff. Why did Aziraphale need to be like that all the time, he didn’t know. But he just had to do this dance – push Crowley away, so Crowley would grab him and pull closer. He knew the angel for a long time now, that’s how he’d always been. But now they were running out of time and Crowley was annoyed. Surely, Aziraphale would go with him. How he could not? He loved Crowley, Crowley was sure of that. Just as Crowley loved him. One couldn’t be without another, they learned it the hard way after the last fight they had. They were godfathers together, seeing each other every day, for eleven years now. They were best friends. They were more than that. They were one. They belonged together.

But that didn’t make Crowley any less annoyed.

“You do!”, he shouted mockingly. No one in this world liked anyone as Aziraphale liked him. Only he liked Aziraphale more. Loved Aziraphale more. Liked, loved, adored, worshipped. Words, words, words... Come on, he thought. I don’t have time for that. You and I both.

“Even if I knew where the Antichrist was, I wouldn’t tell you, we’re on opposite sides!”

How ridiculous was that? Now he made Crowley angry. There was no time for these games, how could he not see it? They had to act now.

“We’re on our side”, Crowley hissed, moving closer. He was ready to grab the angel by his arm and drag him to the car. Get the things, find a place. Flee away. Start anew. Together.

“There is no our side, Crowley”, the angel said harshly, and Crowley froze. “Not anymore. It’s over”

Crowley felt as if he was slapped across the face and punched in the gut at the same time.

Angel meant it. His… No, not his angel. Some estranged angel in Aziraphale’s disguise.

Crowley was hurt before, even by Aziraphale. He was thrown out of Heaven once. He was no stranger to pain. And yet it felt he had never known what true pain meant. He opened his mouth, ready to say something really, really hurtful to that angel who hit him so hard. But he couldn’t speak, he couldn’t even breathe. The lump in his throat was all he felt.

“Right. Well, then. Yeah”, he managed to say, still barely believing in what had just happened. For a brief moment, he waited for Aziraphale to laugh and say it was a bad joke. But Aziraphale was silent. Looking strangely hurt – why would HE be hurt? – but silent. Crowley turned away, his lips shaking. He felt he might sob if he wouldn’t press his lips hard enough.

“And I thought he loved me the same way I loved him. Damned idiot”, he thought so bitterly, he could taste the poison on his snake tongue.

“Have a nice doomsday”, he said, turning back one last time, wishing to sound casual, but sounding hurt and bitter. He turned away again, pacing more swiftly now, clenching his teeth. He felt anger boiling in his veins, anger, and hatred. Not for the angel, though. For himself.

“How could I be so wrong about something so simple?”

He didn’t notice how he reached his car, how he drove home, how the night came. It all seemed too smeared now, the thought, drinking hard liquor from the bottle. His mind went through every memory he had, every time Aziraphale smiled at him lovingly, every time their hands brushed, every time angel’s eyes told him “I love you”. He went through those times, torturing himself with the same question “How could I? How? When did it all fall apart? He must’ve loved me, at some point, he surely did. What happened? When? How?”. The dawn came soon enough. But now answers with it.

**

“And when I’m off in the stars, I won’t even think about you!” – Crowley’s words ringed in his head, as he watched, frozen, his black car driving away.

“What have I done?”, he thought with strange calmness, as some man approached him and said something he couldn’t make sense of.

“What have I done?”

“What have I done?”

“What have I done?”

Realization soon hit him. Crowley, whom he hurt so mercilessly the day before, came back for him. Crowley. Beloved Crowley, sweet, loyal, gentle, beautiful Crowley. A demon, yes. But a demon he loved. A demon who loved him, once. Who now felt only hate and contempt for Aziraphale. “He’ll be up there, in the stars, without me. He’ll forget about me. He already has. I disappointed him. I betrayed his love. Our love. Oh, no, no, no, no… Oh, we could’ve, we could’ve, could’ve… He said “together”, twice” – the thought felt sharp as a knife in Aziraphale’s stomach. – “He trusted me and I hurt him. Oh, Crowley. Crowley, Crowley… Of only you knew how much I loved you. How I love you still. How I always will”

He tried to make it right, do the right thing. For the world, for the people, for Heaven, for Crowley even. He couldn’t run away with Crowley. Or could he? Maybe he was nothing but a coward. A coward who missed his only chance to be with his loved one, free from the rules, free from the judgment. How happy could they be up there, on some distant planet… Only that won’t happen. Crowley hates him now, more than he ever wished to hate Crowley. He couldn’t hate Crowley. He wanted to stop loving him but loved him even more now that he was gone. Aziraphale didn’t notice people walking around him, as he felt himself dead among the living.

“Hello, Aziraphale”

Someone grabbed him by the collar and shoved him against the wall.

 

**

“Prophecies… Angel is obsessed with prophecies. I need to show him… Oh, he… Ugggghhhh”

Crowley had never in his life desired to get drunk this fast. The moments before he got his first bottle seemed like ages. He opened it, with the help of his teeth, and drank thirstily, as if it was a passionate kiss of long-awaited love.

No. No, no, no. No thoughts of kissing, no thoughts of love, please. Please, no. He begged his brain to shut it off, but the pain was as sharp as it was an hour ago. He held the burnt book tenderly close to his heart, fearing to let it go for a moment.

His book. Aziraphale’s book.

Gone now. Gone, gone, gone, gone. He won’t hold him the way he holds it. Won’t kiss him.

“I never did. Not once. I always thought there will be a better time.”

His lips trembled and he couldn’t hold back tears. But his tears were scarce and bitter. They gave Crowley no respite. So, he drank, greedily, as if someone was chasing him to take his last friend, his booze, away.

“Did he know?”, he whispered, with his voice shaking. “Did he?”

No, his memory told him. You told him you won’t think about him.

“Did he know how much I loved him?”

No, Crowley. You didn’t tell him. You drove away. You said, that once you’re off in the stars, you won’t…

Anthony J. Crowley worked very hard that night to get obscenely drunk. And within half an hour he did. He was no longer a mourning lover, but a mere drunk fool. There was only one thought in his brain: “It will be over soon. They will come for me. Soon I’ll vanish away, at last”.

**

“Crowley”, Aziraphale said, looking at Crowley, across Crowley’s room. Crowley was still covered in soot and looked exhausted. “Forgive me. I know I hurt you. I didn’t mean those words”

“Angel, come here”, Crowley said impatiently, standing up from the chair, his voice low and coarse. It was only now that Aziraphale realized that only a few hours ago the demon was in the burning bookshop, mourning for him. Aziraphale stepped closer, and as soon as he could, Crowley forcefully pulled him to his chest and held him so close it was hard to breathe. Crowley’s hand was caressing his hair now, Crowley’s cheek pressed against the angel’s temple. Crowley was whispering something in a ragged low voice. Aziraphale felt wetness against his skin.

“Don’t cry, Crowley. My dear Crowley. I love you. I’m here. I won’t leave you. Not ever. Please, darling, it’s alright”

“Angel…”

“Your angel, Crowley. I’ll always be your angel. Always. And you’ll be my Crowley”

“My angel…”

“I’m here, my love. My sweet, gentle Crowley. I promise you, I’ll never leave you again”

“You… You were gone…”

“And I’m here now. I came back for you”

“I’ll protect you”

“And I’ll protect you, Crowley”

“I’m sorry about that. It’s the first time, I swear”

“You’re allowed to cry. You had a rough day, saving us all”

“Adam saved us all, angel. We only got in the way”

Crowley loosened his grip and kissed Aziraphale’s forehead. His face was wet but happy.

“I’m not letting you go anywhere, angel. So we have a major fight tomorrow. We’ll kick – you see, KICK, not lick” – Crowley laughed, drying his tears away – “someone’s divine…”

“Stop it, Crowley”, Aziraphale said, putting his finger on Crowley’s lips. “Before you go on with your blasphemy, I need to kiss you”. Aziraphale started leaning up to Crowley, who was taller than him, but Crowley quickly went on one knee.

“I can’t wait, angel. I can’t wait”

[re-rift]

KUINA | ??? | TRIAL 5.1 | RE: ALL

Tomio honestly…was trying to completely hold himself back as everyone talked…but those close to him such as Shuuya would probably be able to hear a slight chuckle from him every few minutes. He didn’t seem to care at all about everything that was being thrown at him. Everything was going just how he wanted it to go. No slip ups…everyone was saying just what he wanted…pulling open the curtain on his plot..this was exactly what he wanted. This…this feeling in his chest was absolutely sublime! Mingzhu said their piece and that was when he finally broke…

“…Mhmhmhmh….Hehehahahahhaheheheh….. No need to empty your pockets, Lowell.You have all done so very well. I am so proud of you all. You should be very proud of yourselves too. You have all done what the Tokyo police department has failed to do for four years what they failed to do during my previous little killing game.”

The man clapped his hands together as he laughed…It was such a strange and broken laugh…something was wrong…something was very very wrong with this man. It showed on his face…and in his voice…his overall aura was something…that could only be described as absolutely repulsive.

“I do indeed, Mingzhu. Tsurugi was a complete idiot for giving me such a thing…hahahahaha!!! An idiot all the way to the end…”

As the man reached into his pocket and pulled out a silver knife, the holographic angel wings on his back grew and expanded into full angel wings on his back….

[ ♪ ♪ ♪ ]

There he stood…a man who exuded nothing but pure evil…a demon that worked its way onto Earth and into this game…

“As are all of you. You all are focusing on the whodunnit and the howdunnit. Don’t any of you care about the most precious part of the mystery? It’s the whydunnit of course! Why did I shoot Tsurugi and drive a katana through Takao’s back? Do any of you care? Actually…don’t answer that because I’ll tell you why I did it…

Tomio’s face showed nothing but malice…this was not the same man that had spent his time befriending everyone…this was not the man that had been called grandpa…who had so much fun paling around and gossiping with his fellow captives…who was this man whose gaze could sent a shiver down the spines of anyone who met eyes with him? 

”I did it because it was fun. Not because of this stupid motive or any other foolish reason. I killed them because it was fun for me to do so.“ 

And there again came that wicked laugh…the evil of it resonated through the courtroom hoping to pierce the hearts of everyone that called Tomio Yasuda a friend.

”Well, there is a little more to it then that but I’ll leave you all guessing for a little bit…God you know, I have been waiting for this for so very long. Do you know how awful it was having to pretend to get along with all of you? Crying crocodile tears every time someone met a grisly end or trying to comfort someone when they were sad over some stupid death. It was positively exhausting. You are all ridiculous.“

Tomio cackled as he turned his attention to CC and Mingzhu, ahh his precious grandchild…he wonders if they will still want to be addressed as such after this moment. It didn’t matter to him if they did or not because he was going to call them that anyway…for no reason other than to drive a stake even deeper into their heart. If he can elicit some tears and suffering then his job is done.

"Oh, CC. You were the one I saw the most potential in you know? You were so smart at the beginning! Not trusting anyone here because we all could be anyone right? And look at what happened, you’ve ended up nothing but a complete joke. Harboring feelings for my sweet grandchild when you were always going on about how stupid such a thing is, haha! You two will never have a future, I’m sure you are quite aware of that but I just wanted to let you know again. And you Mingzhu…you were so guarded…trying to keep yourself from feeling…acting so much cooler than you actually are. Don’t think I don’t hear that sadness in your voice, you are trying so very hard to keep yourself together aren’t you? You don’t want to admit you harbored feelings of care for someone like me, right? HAhahahaha!!! Well go ahead and do it! Cry! Let all your emotions run wild! I promise you that I am more than capable of handling it.”

Tomio fiddled with the knife in his hand, he ran his index finger from the tip of it all the way down, enjoying the feeling of it against his hand. He can finally be himself. How wonderful this feeling is! He wants to bask in this for all eternity…it is too bad that this will end all too soon. He knows what comes next but at least he still has some time. He turned his attention now to Ada…

“My dear Ivy, you asked if I thought this was some kind of game, and my answer to that is that…yes…it absolutely is. It’s a very fun game called manipulation. We got awfully close in here didn’t we? So close in fact that you had told me your name…how funny…and I turn told you my name…well I suppose…I told you my title…why don’t you tell them all Ivy? Why don’t you tell everyone here what they call me back home, I am sure that you can remember the name of the man that brutally murdered my sweet Ryuji Toujou…hahahhaha!!! But before you do…I have one more thing to say…”

And finally to Eve…his evil expression didn’t look like it was going to fade anytime soon…he was ready to share the final moments of a beloved…that’s the least he could do for him right?

“To you…my dear Morimoto. You did the best job…everything you said was correct. Would you like a gold star? A prize…don’t worry I’ll give you one…I’ll tell you what it was like watching the man that you loved die right in front of me…I’ll tell you, he suffered…quite a bit…writhing around on the ground like a fish out of water was more satisfying than you can ever imagine. I told him I was going to make sure nothing happened to you. He couldn’t respond mind you…he was too busy coughing up blood from you know…being stabbed in the back with a katana. It was wonderful…I wish you could have seen it…I had been waiting to do that for so long…it was my little revenge for him taking away the chance for another me to kill my loved one. And you know…he really did look like Ryuji, so that just made it all the better! AHhahahahahhahahahhahha!!!!!”

And that was the last thing Tomio had to say as he got lost in his own laughter…he thought this was the funniest thing…like he was the funniest person in the room. There was nothing at this moment that could knock him off of this high. This man standing before them…was a pure demon…not a trace of humanity was left…that is…if there was any humanity to even be found in him in the first place….

[dreadhaus-literature]

“Gun in My Hand.”

Bunny had a good idea, use the song you’re listening to, to write, and given we’ve been reading Civil War...well it just seems fitting.

“Why did love put a gun in my hand? Why did love put a knife in my heart? Why did love open up my scars?

Was it for redemption? Was it for revenge? Was it for the thrill of pushing my heart to the edge? Why did love, why did love put a gun in my hand?”

At the time, it had seemed like the only, inevitable outcome, but looking back on it...well, hindsight’s always 20/20, isn’t it?

The Cloak of Levitation, known more commonly simply as Stephen Strange’s cloak, fluttered around Monica’s petite shoulders, the tips of it’s collar gently touching her cheeks and temple like butterfly kisses, seeking to reassure her and keep her safe and warm while a group of Haushold members met their very deserved and just punishment for subjecting Monica to their terrible in-fighting.

The first two to face the dreaded “big shirt” were the catalyst of the fighting, Tony Stark and Steve Rogers. And a big shirt it had to be indeed, what with Steve’s broad shoulders and Tony’s broader ego.

“Sweetheart, angel, light of my life,” Tony paused, shifting one shoulder before turning his dark head incredulously to Steve. “Did you fucking grow overnight? Why is there suddenly less material?”

“Stop complaining--and language,” Steve muttered, trying and failing miserably to get a little extra leverage in the shirt already stretched to it’s limits.

Tony’s staring only increased before he blinked, slowly, and turned back to Monica. “Babygirl does Daddy really have to do this? I already apologized to you, quite skillfully if I might add, between your thighs--”

There was a slight ripping sound as Steve reeled back to stare at Tony, now. “That’s inappropriate, Tony! You’re going to embarrass her!”

“Oh get off your high horse, Captain Man, don’t act like you don’t do the same thing--”

“I don’t embarrass her by telling everyone!” Steve also didn’t have it in him to embarrass Monica or speak publicly about his love life with his wife.

Monica blinked and looked up at Stephen. “Captain Man?”

Stephen made a show of restraint by not rolling his eyes. “Tony thinks he’s being clever calling Steve a mixture of his and Clark’s superhero name.”

“Because I am,” Tony snided.

“And it isn’t because you’re jealous how fast he and Clark bonded?” Stephen countered.

“Bruce is, I’m not, I could care less.” Tony answered so fast even the cloak turned, steering Monica’s petite shoulders as it went. “...Stop staring at me, Wonder Curtains--Stephen get your moving drapes away from me. But leave Monica.”

“Oh, we are most certainly leaving.” Stephen swept his arm around the small of Monica’s back, turning her from the two Avenger leaders to the next pair subjected to the Big Shirt--Namor and T’Challa.

“Empress~” Namor all but purred, his charming smile made a little more nefarious by that widow’s peak. “You are, as always, a vision.”

“My queen.” T’Challa bowed his dark head out of loving respect.

Monica had to give it to them, they managed to hold onto their refinement even wearing an over-sized shirt, both their heads in the same hole, shoulders brushing together with every movement they made.

“How has it been?” Monica asked, which was the true purpose of these rounds, to see how they were all getting along. She hadn’t even needed to ask Tony and Steve, they answered the unasked question by fighting the second they opened their mouths--but Stephen had warned her that T’Challa and Namor, being royalty, didn’t often resort to squabbling like, say, Tony and Steve. Their fighting was more subtle and she’d have to be on the lookout for it.

“Oh, who could possibly complain sharing such close quarters with the legendary ruler of Wakanda?” Namor’s question sounded genuine, flattering, but Monica was keen to him and had almost immediately picked up the underhandedness that laced his regal tone like cyanide.

T’Challa also was not buying it. “Namor has been stabbing me.”

“What?!” Monica nearly squealed, moving to lift the shirt to see what T’Challa was talking about--what she revealed beneath the fabric was Namor holding a hermit crab in one hand, and the little sea creature was going to town pinching, poking, and stabbing T’Challa with it’s tiny claws right in the Black Panther’s side.

“He’s being dramatic, it hasn’t even broken the skin.” Namor snapped.

“It’s shredding my clothes.”

“You’re welcome, that shirt is tacky.”

“Namor, give Monica the crab.” Stephen was mildly perturbed to have to utter such a ridiculous sentence.

Monica held out her hand and Namor did as Stephen asked--if only because he got to touch Monica in the process. Long, elegant fingers skimmed hers as Namor handed her what was essentially one of her little subjects, the crab scuttling around her palm, clacking away excitedly before scurrying up her arm to sit on her shoulder.

“T-Thank you,” Monica straightened up after replacing the shirt back down. “You boys behave, or you’ll be stuck here longer than Tony and Steve.”

The latter pair were still arguably audibly nearby, and Namor and T’Challa both turned to stare at them with refined sighs, but given their own history...they were probably heading for the same fate.

The next pair in the Big Shirt were Reed Richards and Victor Von Doom, known to most as Dr. Doom. Their rivalry was the oldest in the room, though Namor and T’Challa were a close second--and this was apparent the moment Monica got within earshot.

“For the last time, Victor, I’m not thinning myself to make the shirt bigger. I told Monica I wouldn’t use my abilities and I meant it.”

“Yes but my wife would not want me uncomfortable, Reed, so do as I say.”

Reed’s sigh was cut short as he lifted his head, his older features softening into a smile that almost made Monica forget his awful tunnel vision that led to so much pain and suffering by the rest of his family--almost, because Johnny, Sue, and Ben were standing nearby, and all it took was seeing them to remind Monica why she was doing this.

“Sweetheart,” Sue’s motherly voice was warm and affectionate as she opened her arms for Monica, giving the smaller woman a hug that included a kiss to the top of her head.

“How are they doing?”

“Well they haven’t killed each other,” Johnny’s handsome grin moved into Monica’s line of sight as he stole a few kisses from her cheek before the cloak furiously flapped him away. “Ack, Stephen your cloak doesn’t share very well.”

“None of us do.” Stephen replied.

“That’s not true, I share Dick with Peter.”

“That sentence came out gayer than you wanted it to.” Ben grunted, those massive arms folded over his chest.

Johnny turned to flip him off. “It was exactly as gay as I wanted it to be, shut the hell up Boulder Butt.”

“Do you have another Big Shirt?” Sue asked teasingly, winking down at Monica as Johnny and Ben immediately started to protest being stuck in a shirt together.

“I sure do! Just say the word, Mommy.” Monica giggled, warmed when Sue pressed another kiss to her forehead.

“I’m really trying, sweetheart.” Reed’s voice and tone was genuine, and the hopeful smile he gave Monica sealed the deal. “I want you to know how sorry I am, so I’ll stay as long as I need to.”

“Doom does not apologize for his actions.” Victor started, before...shifting his iron shoulders, those villainous eyes nailing Monica to the spot as he turned to her. “...Yet if you’ve found any of my behavior...unjust, Wife, we can discuss it in private.”

“Hey, no, Doom has to apologize just like Reed does!” Johnny interjected.

“I will apologize to my wife, none of you idiots deserve to hear contrition from Doom.”

Monica was grateful she couldn’t blush, as the deference Victor was showing her was obviously special and something he just did not show anyone else. “I-I appreciate it, Doom, but you...you do have to apologize like Reed does or you two have to stay like this.”

Victor was quiet for a long moment, eying his beloved wife, before he squared his shoulders. “Doom will apologize after Johnathon apologizes.”

Johnny nearly burst into flames on the spot--as it were, flames were racing up his arms and spine in a desperate attempt to keep up with his temper. “Why in the hell should I apologize to you?!”

“My wife is likely this upset because you allowed yourself to be beaten to a pulp on a street corner. Once that has been rectified, Doom will apologize.”

“I’m going to light that stupid hooded cape of yours on fire--”

“I think they need a bit more time, angel.” Stephen’s scarred, but warm hand found the small of Monica’s back as he ushered her away from the growing squabble. “There’s one more person we need to check on.”

It didn’t surprise Monica that there were so many people in Big Shirts, and it also didn’t surprise her that she didn’t remember who this last pairing was.

“Naaaaate, come on!! Everyone else is doing it!”

“No.”

It shouldn’t have surprised her that Wade and Nathan were nearby, Wade trying and failing to get Nathan in a Big Shirt with him.

“Mommi said--”

“What babygirl said was that you shouldn’t have tried to fucking shoot me.” Nathan corrected. “And you wouldn’t have wound up with a face full of tranq darts.”

“If you get in this shirt with me, you’ll find up with a face full of--“

Stephen cleared his throat purposefully, but to Monica’s surprise kept them walking past Nathan and Wade. So they weren’t the last pair?

Oh. He didn’t say pair, he said person.

That dawned on Monica the moment she saw Maria Hill, sitting by herself, taking up one half of a Big Shirt. The former Director of SHIELD looked a little sad, if Monica had to be honest, and the expression changed only slightly when she looked up.

“Monica,” Stephen gently urged her forward. “Maria would like to talk to you.”

Maria cleared her throat, meeting Monica’s gaze with a look that could only be described as determined. “I know you haven’t seen me at my best, lately. And I wish I could tell you I’m better than what you saw, but...words don’t mean a damn thing. Actions do. And I thought at first maybe I could ask Dot or the Furies to vouch for me, maybe make it a little easier to earn your love and respect but Fury Sr. told me I wouldn’t have liked that. That it would mean more if I could show you who I am and you could find it in you to love me that way.” Maria took a moment to swallow, and she averted her gaze. “So...for tonight, would you sit here, with me, while you read? Give me a chance to show you that even if I fuck up, make mistakes, that I deserve a spot in your heart, too.”

Monica could feel the cloak around her seeming to perk up and look at her, to see what she would say, but Maria was looking at her again.

“Please.” Maria held up the other end of the shirt, and for a moment, Monica could see her fingers tremble. She was nervous. “Just give me a chance.”

Sometimes the fingers that pull the trigger get scared, too, and just need a hand to hold.

[heathenarmyimagines]

Title: Make Me Feel Beautiful 

Summary: (Y/N) comes to Ivar, like she always does.

Pairing: Ivar x Reader 

Taglist: @ubbesgirl, @shewolf2000, @tis-itheapplepie, @atequila, @demoncrypt1066, @greennightspider, @badbitsh13, @fireismysaftey, @minarawr, @laketaj24, @hvitserksgirl, @blahblahcookiesdoma, @fabulous-peasent, @sforsammmmmi, @minmiin1d, @courtrae89, @letsloveimagines, @tomarisela, @titty-teetee, @beyond-the-ashes@elenawrit, @mblaqgi, @whenimaunicorn, @chuflisworld, @mystruggledlife, @moose-squirrel-asstiel, @syreni-dea, @trashqueenbitch, @alykatv, @mbaku-babygirl, @perfectus-in-morte, @beyond-the-ashes, @neeadinghugs, @readsalot73, @triumphantreturnofpies, @anarchy-is-coming, @tephi101, @alicedopey, @ivarslittlebadgirl, @jtrstp, @nejijjeoroo, @charlylama, @ivartheblessed, @captstefanbrandt, @fabulouschrissi, @ivarsrideordie, @3x5gurl, @the-writer-appreciation-blog, @lolabee9, @captainfoxy22, @young-ugly-god, @im5ftbutmythroat66, @bribyyy, @irishhiggins, @cadetomlinson, @keclleon101, @slutforragnarssons, @ltkeke, @meeeeeeeeeps, @lille-kanin, @opalscarab, @ssraven7, @ivarandersen, @concretewaywardangel, @funmadnessandbadassvikings, @sharon-is-tired, @cadetomlinson, @mystruggledlife, @chuflisworld, @justmarissa97, @lol-haha-joke, @weirdly-randomly-awesome, @inlovewithmakeupcomicsanim, @idonthavehusbandsihavelovers, @alexa040004, @buckythetinman , @burntmythroatskullingmytea,@jorunnravenslayer, @two-unbeatable-beaters, @buffy-the-vampire-blogger

Ivar was in his room sharpening his knife when he heard her footsteps from down the hall.

With a sigh he sat his weapon aside.

In less than a second (Y/N) burst threw the door and slammed it behind her.

‘Your brother is an ass.’ she seethed as she marched to his bed and plopped onto it.

Ivar rolled his eyes.

This was happening far too often for his taste.

Ivar had a very distinct reputation after he had killed that child during a game; a reputation that left people afraid him.

(Y/N) was his only friend, the only one who wasn’t scared of him.

As children his mother would often tease and joke that (Y/N) would be Ivar’s wife one day.

It shocked the whole town when Sigurd began courting her, it shocked them even more when she accepted his advances.

Ivar didn’t like it at all, knowing his brother was just trying to steal the one person outside of his family who loved him.

She assured him it was not possible, she would never abandon him and she kept her word.

But now half the time they spent together she was complaining about Sigurd.

'What did he do this time?’ Ivar asked tiredly.

'I know he is your brother but he is as much a snake as the image in his stupid eye. You won’t even believe what I caught him doing, I barely believe it.’ she ranted.

'What did he do?’ Ivar asked again, whatever it was she was obviously more upset than normal.

'I caught him…in our lake with that slave girl.’ she spat.

‘Margrethe.’ Ivar sighed. 

‘That whore, she is sleeping her way through your brothers, I wouldn’t be surprised if your mother has had her as well. In fact I think the reason I like you so much is because you haven’t stuck your prick in that rabbit hole.’ she said as she stood and began pacing.

‘I’m going to cut him into so many the pieces that all of him won’t make it to Valhalla.’ she growled.

‘Why do you let him drive you this insane, he isn’t worth the stress or the time.’ Ivar said.

‘Don’t say that Ivar, he is your natural brother.’ she sighed.

‘He has often said I’m not worthy of the air in my lungs, I’m allowed to say he isn’t worthy of my best friend’s affection.’ Ivar scoffed.

She sighed in defeat.

‘I want things to work with him Ivar, I...’ she paused as she sat back down beside Ivar and rested her head on his shoulder.

‘I need things to work with him.’

‘(Y/N)...are you with child?’ Ivar asked, a cold fear filling his lungs.

‘No...and without Sigurd I never will be. He is a cheater and he can be simply cruel sometimes, but he is the only man that will have me.’ she said sadly.

‘What are you saying?’

‘Don’t act like you don’t know Ivar, that in all our years no man has ever taken interest in me. Be it because my fondness of you or my appearance no one but Sigurd has courted me.’ she answered.

‘(Y/N).’

‘It’s true. As bad as he is your brother is the best I’m going to get.’ she said.

In all their years together Ivar had never heard his beloved friend sound so defeated. She always seemed so confident and sure of herself, to hear her say something like that was shocking.

‘What a foolish thing to say, you are gorgeous and I won’t have you thinking otherwise.’ Ivar said.

(Y/N) let out a sad chuckle.

‘Thank you, but we both know you are only saying that to make me feel better. Maybe you find me beautiful as a brother would a sister, but you are not attracted to me Ivar.’

‘What makes you think I’m not attracted to you?’

At that she sits up and stares at him.

‘What?’ she asked.

‘I have never given you a reason to think I wasn’t attracted to you.’ Ivar said simply.

‘You never gave me a reason to think you were.’ she argued.

‘Well we are friends, it would be odd if I casually made an advance.’ Ivar shrugged.

It was true he found (Y/N) to be a very attractive woman, and he would have told her as much if he didn’t think it would make her uncomfortable.  

She seemed to think over his words and deem them to be true.

‘If you are being honest then I am very cross with you Ivar Lothbrok. I tell you you’re attractive every time you doubt yourself.’ 

‘Well if I knew you wanted me to I would have told you every day, maybe then you’d have enough sense to leave that idiot brother of mine.’ Ivar smiled.

‘He really is an idiot, a big cheating rude music loving idiot.’ she spat.

‘Calm down little warrior, we can destroy him later.’ Ivar joked.

‘By the Gods I wish you had told me sooner, before Sigurd it would have saved a lot of trouble.’ she said.

‘Better late than never.’ Ivar said, placing a hand on her thigh.

‘I would have preferred earlier, you idiot.’ she grinned before pushing Ivar onto his back and straddled him, careful of his legs.

‘(Y/N).’ Ivar gasped, not at all prepared for such a sudden advance.

‘Hush, we’ll figure it all out later; right now I want you to make me feel beautiful.’ she said softly before kissing him.

[allmightismysugadaddy]

Accidently posted this to the wrong blog, but editing on the app is too difficult, so I just reblogged. Please follow @allmightismyghostwriter for more fics, and send requests there if you have some. Thanks!

I know this was a headcanon request, but I couldn't help but write a short fic for it. Its the kind of angst I eat up.

Secrets / Toshinori Yagi x Fem Reader / SFW

“Wh-what are you talking about?” You stuttered out, laughing to hide your fear. “You can't be serious, Toshi.”

You reached out to take the thin blond man’s hand, but he jerked it away, and you couldn't help but gasp. “Y-You can't see me anymore?” Your voice cracked.

He turned his gaze away, unable to look at the tears that he had caused to build in the corners of your eyes.

“Why���?” You clenched your fists, and then stomped you foot to the floor, before shouting at him, “You said you loved me! What that all a lie?” You breath was ragged with turmoil, as your shouts turned into sobs. “Just a lie to get me into bed? I can't believe this…”

“No!” Toshinori finally shouted, and reached his shaking arms around your shoulders, pulling you into his embrace. “It’s because I love you…” He whispered into your hair, “My work is too dangerous, I just… I can't be the reason you're hurt. Or worse.”

“Your work?” You scoffed and pushed him away, leaving him looking down at his empty arms in despair. “You won't even tell me what that ‘work’ is. You won't tell me anything about yourself.” You clenched for fists so hard, that you were sure your fingernails would break the skin of your palm. “I stopped asking questions. I told myself just being with you was enough. But now…” You sucked back a sob, trying to hold together your composure. “But now… can’t you just tell me what it is you're leaving me for?”

You had your eyes to the ground, watching your tears litter the carpet of your foyer. You couldn't look at him. Not now.

“I…” Toshinori squeezed out a single syllable from his throat, “I'm sorry…”

The overwhelming feeling of heartbreak struck through you like a knife to the gut, and you spun your back to him, gasping out a sob you wished he couldn't hear. “Just go!” You shouted.

You heard him utter out your name, and he sounded like he was in pain, but you shook your head, not letting yourself be fooled into facing him again.

“I wont… forget you, my dear.” He whispered, then you heard a few footsteps, and the door shut behind him.

You fell to the floor sobbing. “I would do anything to forget you.”

That was six months past now. Somedays, you only thought about Toshinori for a few seconds. His crooked smile, his lame jokes, his fluffy hair… Then, you would push those thoughts down and continue pushing through your life without him.

But some days, and many nights, you couldn't keep your mind off of him. You didn't date anyone else. You couldn't find it in you to open up to anyone. You feared you might not ever be able to again.

And, though you tried to tell yourself it was just because you lacked the closure you needed, you knew deep down, that it was because you loved him. You loved him too much to stop thinking about him for even a day.

You would have done anything to have a chance to speak to him once again; to just hear his voice; to see his glowing blue eyes and feel his calloused, but gentle hands in yours again.

You were holed up in your room the night of All Might’s fight against All for One. The fight has become too terrifying--too real--and you had turned it off and covered your head with a blanket that you hadn't washed since Toshinori last spent the night.

It still smelt of him, and it eased your worries.

The ringing of your phone caught your ears, and you peaked out from under the blanket to see it vibrating on your nightstand, its screen the only light that illuminated the room.

You stretched out for hand and picked it up, hitting the receive button before holding it to your ear.

“Turn on your TV.” Your best friend spoke before you could even say hello.

You shook your head, though you knew they couldn't see you. “I can’t. It's too frightening.”

“Turn it on.” They ordered you again. “It's your boyfriend.”

You jolted up in bed and frantically searched for the remote tangled up in your covers. Toshinori was in the fight with All Might and that terrifying villain? What was he thinking? He would be killed!

Finally, your fingers grazed your remote control, and you held it to your TV, mashing the power button with your thumb.

The sudden light blinded you, but when your eyes adjusted, you saw him there. Toshinori standing in a crater, covered in blood and bruises, All Might's costume hanging off of him and blowing in the wind.

“T-Toshinori!” you choked on his name. “Wh-Why? What is he doing there? Where's All Might?”

“He is All Might.” The voice on the receiver responded.

Your mind went blank

My work is too dangerous.

It’s because I love you.

I'm sorry…

Toshinori’s last words echoed through your mind, and your eyes were glued to the screen as you watched your beloved bulk up an incredible left hook, but the villain just took it.

You couldn't hear him, but you knew he was fighting with all his might.

“All Might…” You whispered, as your phone slipped from your grasp. “Toshinori is… All Might.”

You watch as he bulked up his right arm again, which already looked beyond mangled, and he slammed a punch so hard into the villain that the helicopter broadcasting the fight was blown out of view, and signal was lost. Your eyes were wide with fear and you began to shake, before taking a deep breath and absolutely screaming, “Don't you dare die, Toshinori!!”

When the fight had ended, and you knew he had survived, you had dashed out of your apartment, tripping down the stairs and running to the hospital in Kamino that he was being held. The press was clogging the entrance, but you ran around the side and squeezed through a window while the nurses were distracted by the press.

You couldn't just ask someone where All Might was, you knew you would just be mistaken for a fan or a reporter and shown out, but you followed the sound of the commotion, until you found a single hospital room which had an entrance just as congested with cameramen as the hospital entrance.

You pushed your way through the press, not afraid to break a camera or two if that's what it took, and broke your way to the front of the crowd.

A female nurse stood between you and a white curtain, hiding the patient. She spoke softly but sternly. “I will not repeat myself again, people. My patient needs rest, and this commotion will not help him!”

“Toshinori!” You shouted at the top of your lungs, causing the nurse to flinch in shock.

“Ma’am, please!” she urged. “The patient has been through a lot. He needs his--" Her words were cut off by the sound of the curtain being pulled back, and revealing Toshinori. His face was covered in scratches, and both of his arms were bandaged, his right one plastered and hung in a sling.

But he was alive.

“Toshinori…” You repeated, much softer this time, as new tears formed in your eyes.

“I'm sorry, nurse. She's with me.”

The nurse fidgeted, seeming shocked and confused, but stepped aside and allowed you to run past her to Toshinori, throwing your arms around him, and him stroking your back with his free hand.

The nurse then apologized to the press, and activated her quirk, summoning a barrier which she used to force them out of the room. She took one glance back at the two of you, and then excused herself as well.

You sobbed into the bandages around Toshinori’s shoulder, wanting hold him tighter, but fearing you would harm him.

“You're an idiot.” You scolded him with a scratchy voice.

“I'm sorry, my dear.” He replied, his voice wracked with guilt.

You jolted up from him, holding his shoulders at arms’ length, and let your frustration explode. “You should be! You didn't trust me enough to tell me you put yourself in danger every day! You just left me, wishing I knew why.” You took a deep, sobbing breath, and hung your head in the air between you, your hair blowing with his breath. “I should hate you. I wish I hated you.” Your adrenaline dissipated and you crumbled, leaning back onto his chest, and listening to his heartbeat; so happy to still be able to hear it. “But I don't. “

“I'm sorry.” Toshinori repeated himself, reaching to stroke his fingers through your hair.

“Stop apologizing.” You told him, “I’m just… I'm so happy you're alive.” You wept into his shoulder again, wrapping your arms around his neck. “I love you so much.”

The gasp he gave off shook the both of you, and he wrapped his usable arm tightly around your shoulders, holding you tightly to his chest. “I love you, too.” He sobbed out, his chin buried in your hair as his tears began to fall. “I've never stopped loving you.”

“No more secrets.” You told him with a sniffle.

“I promise.” He replied.

“Don't ever leave me again.”

“I won't.”

“Kiss me.”

Toshinori’s eyes widened at your words, and you pulled your head up just enough to face him. He could tell, by the look in your eye, that you meant it.

His eyes were glued to your lips, as you leaned back down towards his. You came so close that you could taste his breath in your mouth--a taste you missed more than you could say.

“Please…” You whispered.

Finally, Toshinori leaned forward, and bridged the gap.

[linearao3]

Murder Ballad, Ch. 4

(E, 4/4; A/B/O; archive warning for violence; additional tags)

Ch. 1, if you’d like to begin at the beginning

“And if anybody asks you who you chose, you’ll say my name.” He fans his fingers over her breast like a hand of cards, wraps them under her jaw like a high winter collar. “Pretty little ankopje, who’s your koper?” Long clever fingers squeeze. “Say it.”

“Kaz,” she breathes. “Kaz Brekker.”

“I should bite you,” he mutters. “No one would touch you. Even the fleas wouldn’t dare.”

[reactingtosomething]

If They Liked This, They May Also Like...

Holiday Shopping with Reacting to Something

stock photo shamelessly lifted from

We know we haven’t generated original content in a very long time, but we wanted to get into the holidays in a way that was more or less on brand. So in the spirit of a Netflix recommendation algorithm, here are some suggestions for what to buy friends and family who liked some of the movies we saw in 2018 (including a couple that premiered in late 2017).

It’s probably obvious, but just to be super clear, the format below is --

If they liked this: They may also like this

Miri’s Gift Guide

The Shape of Water: I shouldn’t say a day pass to an aquarium because it’s a terrible, easy joke BUT I AM WHO I AM.

If you’re not a garbage person, maybe consider the rest of Del Toro’s creature filmography, anything related to Buffy the Vampire Slayer, or a collection of fairy tales by the Brothers Grimm or Hans Christian Andersen. Dark and gritty originals, not the tidied up versions.

Call Me By Your Name: NO, I WILL NOT SAY ANYTHING TO DO WITH PEACHES BECAUSE EVEN I HAVE LIMITS. APPARENTLY. The book is a lovely, lyrical, tragic read (or listen, if you go with the Armie Hammer audiobook as I did), and I would also recommend giving a gift of solitary artistic pleasure in whatever way speaks to your intended recipient—a CD, a ticket to an art exhibit, a coffee table book of a painter you think they will love. Something beautiful that requires a little bit of space to enjoy privately.

Black Panther: The new Shuri comic! (I am a hypocrite because I haven’t read it yet but it looks so awesome!) Also, there are some choice funko pops for Black Panther, which are a nice, reasonable price and make a great desk or bookshelf addition.

Annihilation: A DVD of Arrival and a book on fascinating genetic mutations. (The photo above is from the first linked book.) Also, tell them about the Twitter account Tessa as Goats, which is a true gift to us all.

Game Night: A murder mystery game! Or whatever game you think most appeals to them, but I personally think the immersive nature of a murder mystery is a true delight. Also, something Olivia the Dog themed because she’s awesome.

A Wrinkle in Time: For the actual child: one of the books published under the Rick Riordan Presents banner.

For the child in all of us: a soothing and/or empowering adult coloring book and some nice colored pencils.

Thoroughbreds: Really cool sunglasses.

Love, Simon: Tickets to the upcoming Clea DuVall helmed queer rom com starring Kristen Stewart and YES this is a request for myself, obviously.

Blockers: Make them a dance music playlist on Spotify!! (Or burn an actual CD for peak nostalgia/those who enjoy physical media.) And if you have some time together, have your own dance party with as many or as few people as you want.

photo illustration by 

Ocean’s 8: LEVERAGE! BUY THEM A SEASON OF LEVERAGE!!! Give them the gift of even more cons and fun!

Incredibles 2: If they are parents: a night out without the children (this could mean a gift certificate or an offer to babysit). If not, try something heroic like these ornaments, or something that helps them learn to be their own hero, like a self defense or kickboxing class.

Tag: LASER TAG! It’s so fun, even if you’re bad at it! Give a gift card or book a session together and enjoy chasing each other around like giant, fun-loving idiots.

photo illustration from

Set It Up: A massage. Anyone who related to this movie too much is likely very much in need of stress relief. Also, a large quantity of popcorn to be eaten in whatever manner they wish with no shame at all.

Hotel Artemis: A Swiss army knife and a couple of airplane bottles of booze.

Sorry to Bother You: An Oaktown t-shirt (I have been told by someone from the area that this is A Thing but I don’t actually know and I’m sorry for that) and a copy of Kafka’s Metamorphosis.

Crazy Rich Asians: Ideally, a whirlwind food tour of Singapore. If that’s not feasible, a Hulu subscription so they can enjoy Constance Wu’s full comic potential in Fresh Off the Boat. And a really nice candle, because it’s a small decadence that can really go a long way.

To All the Boys I’ve Loved Before: The Wedding Date by Jasmine Guillory (if they like a steamy read), tall socks (if they like to be cozy and cute), and custom stationary (if they like to live dangerously).

A Simple Favor: A cocktail shaker, fancy bitters, a really good mystery novel.

Widows: Tickets to go see Widows again because it’s amazing and is probably even more amazing a second time.

Kris’s Recommended Reading 

Wildlife or Widows: The H-Spot: The Feminist Pursuit of Happiness

As I say in my Amazon review, this is the best applied ethics text I was never assigned. In fairness to my professors, attorney-turned-journalist Jill Filipovic hadn’t written it yet when I was a philosophy student. Filipovic is also not a philosopher. But she is a brilliant writer and a rigorous thinker, and The H-Spot is fundamentally and explicitly an Aristotelian ethical project. That is to say, it takes the starting position that political organization should be aimed at the goal of human flourishing (as opposed to, say, economic growth). From there Filipovic builds a case, or maybe it's better to say several cases, for specific ways in which American policy fails women and disproportionately women of color in this aim, and concrete ways in which it could address this failure. She does so largely through first-hand accounts of several women across America, in a wide range of socioeconomic circumstances. Although the institutions and less formal systems in play are complicated, the questions at the heart of all this are simple: What do women want? What do women need?

Filipovic asks these questions without pre-judgment, and without assuming that any answers are too unrealistic to consider. Not that anyone she talks to asks for anything "unrealistic." Partly this is because they often speak from too much experience for the unrealistic to occur to them as something they deserve to ask for, but also, the idea that woman-friendly policy is unrealistic is a Bad Take to begin with. Filipovic doesn't need to be pie-in-the-sky utopian to show how things could be much better for women (and by extension, it should but still doesn't go without saying, for everyone).

I left academic philosophy over five years ago, but I really think each chapter (built around topics like friendship, sex, parenting, and food) is brimming with potential paper topics for grad and undergrad students of ethics and/or political philosophy. Whether you’re philosophically inclined or not, if you think “women should be happy” and “the point of civilization is to make happiness easier for everyone” are uncontroversial claims, The H-Spot is the book for you -- and for your friends who loved the several underestimated women of Widows, or Carey Mulligan’s captivating portrayal in Wildlife of a woman doing the best she could within the restrictions of her era.

Black Panther: A Nation Under Our Feet

Though it helps to have some familiarity with the Avengers storylines that led up to Ta-Nehisi motherfucking Coates’s first year on the Black Panther comic -- as well as with the excellent opening arc of Matt Fraction’s Invincible Iron Man -- here’s all that even a new comics reader really needs to know before jumping into Nation: King T’Challa, the Black Panther, was recently unable to prevent several consecutive disasters in Wakanda. Both as a cause and as a result of these disasters, T’Challa worked with the so-called “Illuminati” (Tony Stark, Reed Richards, Stephen Strange, and other intellectual and strategic heavyweights) to prevent the end of the multiverse itself. That crisis averted, T’Challa has returned to Wakanda to resume his royal duties.

Coates takes as a starting premise that Wakanda, the most advanced nation on earth, would only still have a hereditary monarchy if the monarch was uniquely suited as a protector of the people. In the wake of the Panther’s failures in this regard, Nation opens with a rebellion against T’Challa’s rule on two fronts: domestic terrorists with an unknown agenda on one hand, and on the other, former officers of the Dora Milaje (the all-female royal bodyguard corps beloved by fans of the movie) rallying Wakandan women who have suffered great injustices unaddressed by the crown. The leaders of the latter, lovers Ayo and Aneka, are nominally antagonists to T’Challa, but to the reader they’re parallel protagonists. You root for both T’Challa and the Dora Milaje, even though their agendas are in tension, not unlike the way one might have rooted for both Tyrion Lannister and Robb Stark in early Game of Thrones. (Shuri’s around too, though she’s quite unlike her movie counterpart.)

When he’s not fighting or investigating, T’Challa does a lot of soul-searching and debating about his responsibilities as king, the ways it conflicts with his career as a globetrotting superhero, and whether and how the government of Wakanda must evolve. Though Wakanda is too small to be considered a superpower, the domestic terror angle, an interrogation of historical injustice, and the struggle between moral idealism and political reality make Wakanda a proxy in some important ways for modern America. (You may have noticed that Ryan Coogler did this too.) Coates’s meditation on leadership and political power made A Nation Under Our Feet not only a great superhero comic but -- this is not an exaggeration or a joke -- my favorite political writing of 2016.

Nation is illustrated mostly by Brian Stelfreeze and Chris Sprouse, with colors by Laura Martin; some of Stelfreeze’s designs clearly influenced the movie.

Thoroughbreds: Sweetpea

When a clever, mean-spirited would-be journalist with airhead friends learns that her boyfriend is cheating on her, old traumas bubble to the surface and she becomes a serial killer who targets sex offenders. Darkly, often cruelly hilarious, Sweetpea is what you’d get if American Psycho was set in southwestern England and for some reason starred Amy from Gone Girl. Protagonist Rhiannon is a self-described inhabitant of an Island of Unfinished Sentences, de facto Chief Listener of her “friend” circle, and a maker of lists. Lists of the things her friends talk about (babies, boyfriends, IKEA), signs she’d like to put up at work (please close doors quietly, please do not wear Crocs to work), and oh, the people she wants to kill. Like her boyfriend, at the moment. Or ISIS, when news coverage of a terror attack pre-empts her beloved MasterChef.

Author C.J. Skuse smartly chooses not to have Rhiannon wallow in her traumatic past as many superheroes do. We get glimpses for context, but Rhiannon is committed to moving forward, to escaping her demons rather than being defined by them. It matters that she wants to get better, even if she also hates that she’s bought into society’s definition of “better.” (#relatable)

It’s worth noting that Sweetpea leans seemingly uncritically into a lot of dated gender tropes, in Rhiannon’s assessments of the women around her. (Body positive she is not.) Then again, she’s an unreliable narrator -- one of the best demonstrations of this is a scene in which she’s convinced of her ability to fool the world into believing she’s normal, then overhears her dipshit co-workers talk about how unsettling she is -- so arguably we’re supposed to laugh at how terrible she is without necessarily agreeing with her. This is, I think, a perfectly legitimate approach to a protagonist, even if some find it unfashionable.

The book is not quite as thematically rich as it first appears, at least on the topic of sexual violence; it indulges a “stranger danger” picture of rape that doesn’t feel entirely contemporary. (For a more nuanced treatment of rape culture, see the sadly short-lived but wildly entertaining vigilante dramedy Sweet/Vicious.) But as a portrait of a vibrant, layered, genuinely Nasty-and-you-kinda-love-her-for-it woman -- given Oscar-caliber-portrayal-worthy life by Skuse’s wickedly sharp voice -- Sweetpea is too fun to pass up.

Upgrade or Infinity War: The Wild Storm

Castlevania showrunner Warren Ellis helped redefine superhero comics with 1999’s The Authority, which at DC’s request he's given a Gritty Reboot (along with the WildCATS, whom some of us remember from this extremely 90s cartoon) in The Wild Storm. Ellis has always been interested in The Future, both its potential wondrousness and its probable horror. Fans of Upgrade’s refreshingly unsanitized (and unsanitary) take on human enhancement through body modification will find much to like in Ellis’s spin on the trope of second-skin powered armor. (He semi-famously wrote Extremis, one of the comic arcs that inspired Iron Man 3.)

art by Jon Davis Hunt, from The Wild Storm #1

Angela Spica, a reimagining of Ellis’s old Authority character The Engineer, is a cybernetics expert who stumbles onto a sort of shadow government conspiracy related to her employer, and goes on the run with the armor she’s designed for them. (When not deployed, the armor is stored inside her body.) Angela is quickly targeted by multiple covert organizations, one of which rescues (?) her and brings her in on a secret history of technological arms races and contact with extraterrestrials. The Wild Storm is full of big action and bigger ideas, and for smart, generally curious superhero movie fans who find the decades-long continuities of the DC and Marvel universes intimidating, it’s a great entry -- with a blessedly planned ending -- into sci-fi-comics.

Happy holidays, and have fun gift shopping!

[ilcaeryx]

Fifty Terrible Choices and Circumstances

Description: 50 open ended prompts about some terrible choices and circumstances for a character and their relationship. Feel free to change pronouns.

1. Out of all questionable life choices you've made, this one didn't seem that terrible.

2. When a crush remains unrequited some people resort to pining, though their definition of pining didn't adhere to the traditional meaning.

3. Would you seriously let your first date end this way?

4. All these reds flags surrounding this relationship and you charged in like a bull anyway.

5. "It isn't that bad. You'll survive."

6. If you stopped to think about it, white was an awful choice.

7. Whether you would be able to chew tonight's dinner depended your next choice.

8. Anyway, you did find the person eventually; they weren't drop dead gorgeous, just normal dead.

9. This is a short romance story of how you learned not to prompt them to be romantic.

11. The following texts further indulged your fears.

12. You turned over the pregnancy test and physically felt your consciousness drag itself out of your body.

13. What is the first thing that comes to mind when you hear the word 'mole'?

14. Inside this cramped space, you knew you'd have to endure at least five minutes of their breathy whispers in your ear to win.

15. "Stay."

16. Shame surged within you after confirming their suspicions.

17. Mistake number one had been marrying them. Mistake number two was involving your best friend in your relationship.

18. Their abscence shone dully beside you, a phantom limb you lacked the strenght to numb.

19. You couldn't stomach their voice to the point that you felt sick listening to their whistling.

20. "You're whole with me because you're rotten to the innermost crevice as well."

21. Hidden deep inside their drawer, you found a diary.

22. Right now, you wished they had been disgusted by your unusual kink.

23. Only the survivors get to say "What doesn't kill you makes you stronger.".

24. With a smug tug on your lips, you raised your chin and confirmed that you were in fact dating.

25. "I'm not leaving without my children!"

26. You didn't know if you preferred seeing their IKEA bags with important belongings or their small bags of cocain on your counter.

27. A short joke: your life meant something.

28. Vertigo develops into courage when you realize that you're not high up, you're just a giant that shouldn't be fucked with.

29. Their most viscious flaw wasn't particularly toxic, not compared to yours.

30. "I wish you had picked me instead of them."

31. Rebounds abound - your flesh burned for some friction and companionship.

32. There's nothing more boring than a dying relationship.

33. At one point you thought that perhaps they didn't just come over to play five finger filét with that knife.

34. Your friends were their friends… yet their friends were off-limits for you? Bullshit.

35. "I'll tell you exactly what caused the miscarriage."

36. One morning, your coffee was tasting seriously strange.

37. Use your favourite sentence of your favourite song for five years as an alarm and you'll understand how falling out of love feels.

38. Three pairs of hands roamed across your bump.

39. After wasting your youth away, you didn't have a plethora of choices left.

40. "Looking happy looks unbecoming on you."

41. In his least dad-voice ever, your father choked out: "But that's your sibling."

42. You would've loved to see them dressed in black at your wedding, though a black body-bag wouldn't suffice.

43. If you had decided not take a vacation, you'd probably still have a spouse by now.

44. Your beloved was an idiot; of course you'd notice their browser history, sooner or later.

45. "You seemed desperate and I gave you the slightest alleviation. I wish you had taken care of yourself enough so that I didn't have to act as your guardian."

46. The trail of clothes led to your bedroom, like bread-crumbs showing you to your demise.

47. Once upon a time, you would've begged them to leave you alone.

48. Perhaps your unceremonial prayer was too heretical for even a god of debauchery and chaos.

49. Nothing is everlasting; you should've known your every choice would end in this.

50. "We regret nothing."

Feel free to @ me if you use these!

If you liked this, consider throwing me a like/reblog/follow!

[peter-parker-imagines]

Rescue Me, Kiss Me

Requested by: @lookclosernow

Request: “Upside down kiss! I just need smb to write it already. Like Peter and MJ had. Peter kisses his crush after saving her. Please ❤️❤️”

Word count: 2.1K

Warnings: Mild swearing, knife, light mugging implied

A/N: This is my first x reader on this account!! I hope I did okay! Also I am so sorry there wasn’t much interaction between Peter and the reader! I’m thinking on making a part 2 if anyone is interested!

Update: Part 2 is out now!

“Earth to Peter, are you still alive?” Ned was growing more concern for his best friend, as he waved a hand in front of his face. Peter was constantly zoning out lately, and the cause was fairly obvious.

“Oh! Uh… yeah, I’m pretty sure I’m still alive. Am I?” Peter seemed like he had just been awoken from a deep sleep, which wouldn’t really surprise some.

Peter had noticed that he had begun drifting off every time he had looked at a certain girl… This girl was someone that he had considered a close friend, but someone that he wouldn’t tell about his deepest secret. And her name was [Y/N] [L/N]. She was everything to him. Not that he would ever admit it out loud, since there was absolutely no way that she would even look at him in the way he looks at her. She was perfect to him, even if she had her flaws. Even with pimples that show up, small little imperfections of her body, even when her lips were chapped from the cold, he still thought she was the most beautiful girl in the world. He could only wish that she would look at him the way he wanted.

“You’re starring again, you know one day she is going to catch you and then call you a creep! Just go and talk to her, honestly what’s the worst that could happen?” Peter felt a soft nudge on his arm from Ned, one of two people that knew just how much he liked [Y/N].

“Yeah Peter, just go talk to her. You’re an idiot if you don’t, missing out on a great girl.” To be fair, both Ned and Peter had been startled by MJ’s sudden appearance. Although, it wasn’t actually a sudden appearance, MJ was just relatively quiet at lunch, and just in general.

“You both know that it isn’t that easy, she isn’t a girl that would be interested in a guy like me, I’m boring Peter Parker, I’m interested in geeky stuff.” Peter sighed, getting up from his seat while grabbing his bag. He knew that the siren was about to go to signal the beginning of his next class.

“I will see you guys later, I’ve gotta go and psych myself up for my Algebra test.” And with that, Peter had left his two friends together. Ned and MJ just looked at each other, both getting close to their wits end about the whole situation.

“What a loser.” MJ laughed and continued to read her book, which she showed more interest in than anything else.

“Yeah… agreed.”

“You have got to be kidding me! Are we seriously out of milk!?” Of course, the one time that [Y/N] wanted to make a batch of homemade Mac and Cheese, and there was no milk in the house, at all.

[Y/N]’s mother was visiting her grandmother in Brooklyn for a few days, leaving [Y/N] to care for the house and make sure everything was stocked up. She had gone to the store the other day to pick up a few things, however the one thing the she forgot to get was milk. Out of everything to forget, she forgot milk.

It was around 8pm, meaning that most stores were closed. However there was a very small, family run general store that was open until late. It was only a few blocks away, [Y/N] would be able to quickly duck out and grab some milk. She really wanted that Mac and Cheese. She had been hearing about random cases of muggings and assault, but reassured herself that nothing would come of it. Nothing could happen to her, right?

Grabbing her [F/C] coat and her purse, [Y/N] set out to the general store. It was a cold night, but cold nights were something that she had come accustomed to. A thought that she had was to call someone to come along with her, just so that she would feel a little bit more safe. Although, she thought it to be silly, she didn’t want to randomly call up Ned, or MJ. Or even… Peter. This girl could only wish she could work up the courage to ask Peter to do something with her, alone. Whenever she asks to hang out, [Y/N] is always sure to have Ned with them, otherwise she worries that things would get too quiet, or awkward. [Y/N] has a crush on Peter, it’s been that way since the two of them started texting each other every so often. No matter what he says, she always gets butterflies. He could talk about what he had for dinner the night before, and her heart would flutter.

[Y/N] arrived at the small store, walking in to be greeted by an elderly lady at the cash register. Not wanting to stay for too long, [Y/N] quickly made her way over to the dairy section. There was a wide selection of milk, so she grabbed the one that was the cheapest. Making her way to the register, [Y/N] began counting out her coins to make sure that she had enough money to pay for the milk. She did have enough, but she just wanted to make sure for a second time. The lady at the register quickly scanned the milk, taking the money, and bidding the [E/C] eyed girl a good night.

The only thought that had been running through [Y/N]’s mind was how excited she was for her homemade Mac and Cheese. She had all of her ingredients waiting for her at home, now that she has the milk. She had zoned out for a few minutes, just at the thought of the food she was going to prepare. What had broken her out of her daydreaming, was the last thing that she had expected.

“Give me your purse.” A deep, rough voice echoed from in front of the girl. She looked at the man in shock, not knowing how to react. Her body was completely frozen from fear, her mind began to scatter and blur. The man was a good seven inches taller than her, his arms were large and filled with tattoos. Sadly, he was wearing a mask, meaning that there was no way to tell what his eyes were showing.

“I said, give me your goddamn fucking purse!” The man then took a step towards [Y/N], causing the girl to react in a way that she could only do when pumped full of adrenalin. She used the milk carton, and hit the thug directly in the face. It may not have been hard enough to knock the guy out, it was powerful enough to get the guy to lose sight for a moment. Using this to her advantage, [Y/N] began to run as fast and as far as she could.

Peter had been patrolling the general area to make sure that nothing was going on. As much as he needed something to happen so he could report it back to Happy, he didn’t want to see anyone in danger tonight. Maybe just a small bank robbery, or something that didn’t involve anyone getting physically hurt. But it had been a pretty quiet and cold night, at least his suit was able to keep him warm. He was wondering what [Y/N] was doing at this time of night. Maybe she was curled up with a book, maybe she was watching another random series on Netflix. With each imagination he had, he could only think of how much he would love to do those things with her. He would hold her close to his body, keeping her warm and making sure she was safe.

While walking along the rooftop of a small general store, Peter heard the crash of something metal. Maybe a trash can? It could have just been a cat or a racoon, but something inside of Peter told him to go and check out what had caused the disturbance. He saw a figure in a [F/C] jacket running into an alleyway, which seemed a little bit odd to be doing at a late hour of the night. The jacket did look kind of familiar to him, but he wasn’t too sure as to why. Trailing not too far behind the jacket wearing girl was a tall, large man. This was a fairly obvious warning sign, after hearing the girl crash into a trash can, and run into an alleyway. He shot a web over to the closest building to where the altercation was heading. Peter managed to get close to where the girl had gotten to, deciding to head down the closest fire escape.

“S-stay away from me! I really don’t have anything to offer you!” The voice sounded very familiar to Peter, a little bit too familiar. It couldn’t be [Y/N], could it? He was finally able to get a better look at who he was about to save, and sure enough it was his beloved [Y/N]. This had suddenly turned personal, he was not about to let any harm come her way. Not her. Never her. He got his webs ready for if the perpetrator took another step closer.

“Listen, doll face. I wouldn’t be forced to take such drastic action if you had just handed over what you had,” As he spoke, he took out a perfectly clean kitchen knife from his belt, “but now I really have no other choice but to take it. And maybe leave a little warning for the next time you decide to act brave.”Peter could see the fear that appeared in the eyes of [Y/N], and it threw him off into the deep end.

“Don’t you have something better to do with your time than harassing random women on the street? Your life must be pretty damn boring for this!” Peter almost shouted with too much confidence, but with enough to shock the man to drop his knife. Peter must of scared him pretty good, as he ran off without saying a single word.

[Y/N] was left very confused, it was far too dark for her to see where the voice was coming from. She turned to behind her, only to be greeted with a dull brick wall. When she turned back around, she came face-to-face with the masked avenger himself, Spider-Man, hanging upside-down from a fire escape. The poor girl nearly threw her milk carton at his face, but luckily she came to her senses fairly quickly.

“You just gave made my heart stopped! Please never sneak up on me like that again!” There was a hint of anger in the girls voice, but she couldn’t be mad at him for too long, he did save her from being mugged after all.

“Sorry about that, but I just wanted to make double sure that you’re safe. After all, I wouldn’t be able to forgive myself if a pretty lady like you were to get hurt.” It had been sometime since Peter was able to get so close to [Y/N] without stuttering like a nervous wreck. Wearing the Spider-Man mask always gave him so much more confidence.

“Would you mind if this ‘pretty lady’ gave you a thank you gift for saving me?” [Y/N] still had quite a bit of adrenalin running through her veins, which made her feel like she was ready to take risks that she would never normally do.

Placing the milk carton gently down on the ground, [Y/N] cautiously placed her hands against Peter’s face, causing Peter to recoil a little. He wasn’t sure what she was going to do, causing his nerves to fill up. Her hands gently slipped themselves under his mask, peeling it down ever so carefully. There was never any intent to discover who the masked superhero was, that was never anything [Y/N] wanted to discover. Instead, she just wanted to reward her hero. The mask was peeled just below his nostrils, just enough to reveal his soft smile.

[Y/N] leant forward, connecting her lips gently to her hero’s. Peter’s heart felt like it was going to give at any millisecond. Never in his wildest dreams did he think that the girl of his dreams would be kissing him, ever. He wasn’t sure how to react to the kiss, it had given him mixed feelings. He knew it was meant for Spider-Man, but he couldn’t help but feel it was truly meant for him, as Peter Parker. The kiss didn’t last for very long, much to Peter’s sadness. Although there was a bit of chemistry felt between the two. [Y/N] smiled the widest Peter had seen in some time, giving him a quick kiss on the cheek and picking up her milk from the ground.

“Thank you for saving my life, I hope that the next time we meet, it will be under better circumstances.” And with that, she was gone into the night.

[nanashi1869]

🌼Flowers for my wounds🌸

(@kondo-hijikata @liuet in case you feel like reading it? ¯\_(ツ)_/¯ )

~Yes, woo what a surprise, a long rant about the Shinsengumi again, how original Nashi. ~

Why thank you, dear reader ;) In all seriousness though, all the previous rants I made were spoiler free and it made me ridiculously furious that I held back all the salt and awe I have in me just for the sake of not spoiling any potential newcomers. I’ve covered some of this in vague posts hundreds of times, but today I will break that habit, I will spoil this to hell and back and enjoy it just as much.  

You've been warned.

PS: I’m doing this entirely based on my memory and some snippets I’ve seen one time too many for my own good. Inaccuracies are bound to happen. 

As always, what better way to begin than with the infamous episode 33...

I'm kidding, today I'm starting by digging into the post office. As with the usual routine the theme to talk about with this wreck is - guilt. Guilt over losing money in a gamble like a complete fool, guilt over buying a book and being too big of a shit (with rather solid arguments) to admit it, guilt over making rules you can't break even though going through the consequences once was enough to make you regret it for the next few miserable years... (Yes I lied, inadvertently everything comes back to the foolish daffodils). But let's talk about our pure accountant who is one 'i' short of being nothing but cute. Let's talk about the edge they put us on a bit before the main event took place, when the (drama version) of the idiot trio tore that scroll. Never forget that could have been the reason for all our tears, yet in the end it still had to be some more complex scheme. An act with the convict being an innocent man and the true criminal roaming free, while Toshi had all the time in the world to steep in deep, raging self-denial over the legitimacy of his past actions and life choices, all the while ending up the scapegoat to whom all the anger can be directed towards. The subtlety with which we were deceived to think the "actual events" of episode 38 were to play out earlier is truly commendable. But with this drama nothing is ever easy. You get to know a new character, someone moves a chess piece and then instead of moving forward everything takes a step back and lets you seethe with nervousness because, without realizing, you've been tricked and have to wait for all the heartbreak a while longer. Takeda's resolve to keep to his decision, regardless of consequences, was in his eyes, completely justified. It did make sense to try and prevent Kano from buying the book for Ito in order to protect the group from his growing power, the action simply failed due to Toshi's own greed after it. Kawai innocently, perhaps naively, thought lending money more than once would not be punished in hopes his friends would be saved from harm. It is his kindnesses that is ultimately his doom and it is the unexpected, usually harmless twists in life that turn it into a spiral with no point of return. Takeda's following quest for redemption ends up being just as pointless as Kawai’s death - he is killed in an instant of hate directed at him, where the assailants are unaware of his reasoning for the justification of his friend's demise. The book too, loses value as Ito gets his own copy later on.

Most, if not all, tragedies in this drama happen because someone is trying to protect or shield - and idea, a person. Toshi's friends die because he must protect the order of the group for Kat-chan, Yamanami and Akesato have a rift in their final moments because they cannot be honest (likewise Souji and Hide), Kat-chan's relationship with Tsune suffers because he lies about Miyuki, Nagakura and the others write the petition to shield the group from Toshi and Kat-chan's (propensity) ego. The pattern is pretty clear.

I'm going to loop back to the script for just a second - watching this drama knowing what will happens adds a thrill, it makes you question when an event will take place even though you know the chronological sequence, because the “mini-arc” leading up to it has to be completed first and the tension must be just right. How long that is depends on the episode and event of course. But each arc is a stepping stone to a new point of no return.

I think, since I've mentioned him, I'll take a bit to talk about Ito as well. I love, love, love the confrontation Kondo and Ito have right before his death. It's absolutely stunning despite being simplistic in nature, because what Kondo states is in fact the very obvious truth and in no way some overly wise notion of the situation. However, it's that simplicity (to me) that adds to the charm of the scene. If you expected some courageous battle of wits, you might have been sourly disappointment, but otherwise - see the pattern? - what brings people to their knees is once again the basic things in life. Kondo’s sincerity, the fact that life is and always will be (mostly) separated into black and white for them. Farmers and samurai, poor and rich - they fit in a narrow grey zone, yet even there they are bullied, pushed away to leave. It's everything complex they're trying to achieve being haunted by little things. It's the desire and determination to be something big and more buried into the ground by the small things they were raised with, holding them back.

Ah, it’s about time this goo got to the good part.

No, it’s still not episode 33. Firstly because I’m sure everyone is tired of my whining about it and secondly because I like to leave best (in my opinion) for last.

This is for our Gargoyle and Tofu. Just imagine, for a second imagine that final hug again and bathe in it, then come back to me, okay? The wedding rings champagne caps and Toshi’s little grimace when he tries to convince himself ‘it’s not over yet’. (At this point I would just like to praise Mitani again for giving us closure with that hug, unlike some other shows I watch *side eyes knife pile*). I’m really glad the two of them got to hug it out before the whole deal blew up. Everytime a ‘Kat-channn’ or ‘Tossshii’ came around my heart melted a bit. THE DYNAMIC IS SO GOOD. (I get so, so jealous each time I see well written relationships between two guys. Doesn’t matter if it’s boyfriends/best friends/would-die-for-you combined or only one of these included. (*cough* NIF & Bleach for one *cough*) I don’t even know what to say! We all know Toshi would sacrifice the world for Kat-chan. We all know Kat-chan trusts him above all else. The guilt one feels and the content of the other having come so far together and being such a power combo…*noises*

I don’t even know how to put this.... (@kondo-hijikata help this is your expertise)

I’m going to move on to some more feathery stuff because I’m really at a loss about these two (analysing NIF’s LC/MCS has engraved so deep into me it’s ruined my perception for everyone else, I apologize).

Right, feathers…

I wrote about Serizawa and his issue of not being able to get over his “I’m a bad guy, therefore I must act like it” complex...somewhere before. I can’t find it, but I’m very sure that was once a thing. I know most people hate the man with a burning passion and part of me probably does too, yet the way he is presented also makes him fascinating, like he is very self-aware but cannot change anything about that (this is similar to Toshi’s “indifference” (we all know he actually cares) of his path to become the villain - he knows that what he is doing is morally wrong and has no intention of stopping). I feel like in the end both of them continued with “bad guy” roles simply because they were too far down that road to stop.

I would analyse Serizawa’s character more, but I honestly don’t remember much anymore. I did want to mention this though.  Toshi on the other hand…feels like someone who desperately wishes to rage quit everything, but keeps on going out of pure spite.

And since I’m speaking of our beloved vice-commander - one thing that opisses me off is that Kotetsu got mentioned, but the whole wow deal with Kanesada got dropped out, even in the movie. *cue bawling over that Katsugeki finale* I was hoping for that when Tetsu showed up dammit!

Am I tiring you yet? Come, sit down, have some tea Gen-san made because he is totally ok and alive an happy and you cannot convince me otherwise because the hugging thing did not happen. Period.

…

Lastly, because my mind is going blank this is quite long - the bane of my existence and the one thing (to me) more cursed than Ryoma himself. (I’m lying PMK upped this x100000 and I am not over that either. I’ll confess immediately I did not read the whole thing yet but this, this haunts me).

This stupid episode with it’s stupid ending and it’s stupid decisions. *insert me yelling about rice balls on the Mibugishiden review post* I mean what is it with this drama and ending brutally sad episodes with (unintentionally?) funny moments? *cue Toshi’s squeaky crying* I have covered my thoughts about Akesato here and here though and since that essentially recaps everything I want to say, I won’t repeat myself. (Thought you’d have to read through 5 more pages of me screaming? I did too before I forgot what I wanted to say.)

I might make a part 2 someday, if I think of more to say, but for now, I’m done, leaving you with this stressful mess. Feel free to add your own opinions, I’m really curious about what the rest of you think.

~Nashi out~

[wanna-see-my-lease]

Morons!

Masterlist

Show: Supernatural

Summary: @emilyymichelle – Can you do Crowley fic where the reader gets taken by rogue demons and Crowley comes to save her please? Thanks love!!

Pairing:  Crowley x Reader

Warnings: Violence

Word Count:  1,804

Reading Time:  6+ minutes

A/N: Thank-you for the request Emily! I love ya baby! Was listening to Trigger Finger by Louden Swain when I wrote this – oh fun tidbit, was watching an interview with Rob Benedict in it and he said that he wrote this one for Richard Speight JR cause of Richie’s fear of flying. Also, no beta, all errors are totally my own :D

XoX

Sam and Dean normally had no problem with you doing simple hunts on your own. They learned a long time ago that you were more than capable of handling most things on your own, even if you weren’t raised as a hunter. You became a hunter when your parents were both killed by demons, leaving you alone in the world as a young teenager. That was when you decided that you were going to try your best to save people, so they didn’t have to go through the same pain and horrors you did. That was when you came across Bobby and the boys – thus they quickly became your family.

However, like all families there were secrets. And like all secrets, they eventually come to light; just like yours was. It wasn’t that you didn’t want to tell your family, it was more you knew just how your family would react if they knew. However, you were pretty sure that they were starting to notice. Honestly, how could they not? Every time you were around them, there was no demon attacks. It was almost as if demons went off the face of the Earth. Or to their astonishment, Crowley would pop in and offer a helping hand now and again if it convenience him. With that, you knew there was bound to be questions eventually and it seemed that the cat was about to be out of the bag.

Crowley’s POV:

It was the same old same old. Statistics, and margins on souls and yada-yada. It’s not that I don’t enjoy being the bloody king of hell – it’s just not the same with out Y/N. You’d think that after being a demon for just shy of 300 years, that a simple human wouldn’t have gotten under my skin and wormed her way into my heart. But Y/N just seemed to have done that and as if that wasn’t putting her in enough danger. She continues to hang out with those insufferable Winchesters – Moose and Squirrel.

Lost in thought, and ignoring what my minions were blabbering about, I felt my cellphone ring in my pocket. As I held my finger up to shut the idiot up in front of me, and pulled my cellphone out, my heart jumped in my chest. It was the first time I felt worry like this in… well since ever.

On the display of my cellphone read ‘Moose’. Now, we all know that Samantha wouldn’t call me, so that meant that there was only trouble ahead. But I couldn’t help but worry that maybe something had happened to my beloved darling.

“Leave.” I ordered the court as I swiped the answer button on the contraption. As soon as everyone was clear of my court, I stood up and answered. “Samantha. What do I owe the pleasure?”

“It’s Y/N.”

Those were the two words I loathed to hear. It only confirmed my suspicions that something was wrong.

“We think a group of demons has taken her.” Sam continued, “When we went to check on her at the hotel we found that there was a struggle and sulfur.”

Reader’s POV:

To say that your head was pounding was an understatement. It was as if your brain was trying to escape the confinements of your skull, a massive jail brake. As you slowly opened your eyes, you found that the light was assaulting you. Your instinct was to shield your eyes, however you instantly found that you were bound to a chair. This was your epitaph as a hunter, and it caused you to slightly giggle.

“Hello kitty is awake,” You heard a voice call from where you could only guess was across the room. The sound assailing upon your ears.

Taking a deep breath, you knew that you had to figure out how you were going to make it out of this alive.  You knew if there as some way you could get to the knife inside your boot, you could cut your way free and take the demons out. However, even though that sounded like a good plan, it wasn’t feasible with your current situation. There was no way you could get your knife as your arms were bound to the armrests of the chair.

“She’s going to help us take out Crowley.” The second voice rang through your ears.

“Phff,” You scoffed finding your voice. “You two morons must have lost your brains somewhere along the way if you honestly think that I’m going to help you take out the bloody king of hell.”

The first demon walked up to you and plugged a knife into your chest. It knocked the wind right out of you, as the shock of the knife plunging into your chest. It caused your vision to disappear as searing white hot pain ripped through you. You bit down on your lip to try and muffle the scream that threatened to rip from your throat. You couldn’t give them the justification that they were truly hurting you. No, you had to be strong. You had to find away out of this.

Crowley’s POV:

Being the son of a witch had its bonuses. At least with that knowledge it didn’t take me long to locate where Y/N was taken. However, what truly pissed me off was the fact that it was my own men that had taken her.

As I was walking through the warehouse towards the end that the two morons were holding my kitten, I over heard their nefarious plans to try and use her to get to me. That was going to be the last thing I was going to let happen. But what really got to me, was hearing the muffled cry she tried to smother. That meant that these two complete dimwits had hurt her. I wasn’t about to stand for that.

Anger pulsing through my veins I walked towards them, my eyes narrowing as I inched closer to the two idiots that dare lay a finger on my – my Y/N.

I watched as they stood close to her and threaten her some more. The sound of my footsteps finally dawns on them as they turned around. The first idiot pulled the knife from her leg and held it up to her throat. Another wave of anger pulsed through me and without a second thought I snapped my fingers killing the demon.

“You betrayed me.” I simply state to the last remaining demon standing in front of me. “No one in the history of torture's been tortured with torture like the torture you'll be tortured with.”

Reader’s POV:

The sound of his deep and raspy voice was like a warm blanket washing over you. He was your savor and you were not afraid to admit it. If there was one thing you had learned was that you had to take your winnings where you could get them. You watched as the last standing demon tried to plead with the king of hell.

“My king. It was all…” The demon started.

Crowley shook his head, and snapped his fingers sending the demon God knows where. At that point in time you didn’t care. You were in pain and tired, as your head lulled to one side. Within a quick couple strides Crowley had made his way to you and was untying the ropes that had burned into your skin. “You’re going to be all right, Kitten.” He cooed as he dropped the last rope that was bound to you.

“Crowley.” You breathed as he came around to face to you.

Just as he was about to say something the sound of two large men barreling into the warehouse stopped him. “Y/N?!” Dean’s voice vibrated throughout the large room.

“Y/N!” Sam’s voice followed through as they came into sight, both running towards you.

“Sam, Dean.” You sighed as you now were leaning against Crowley.

You could tell by the fact that the King of Hell had tensed that he was not happy to see your boys. “What in the hell are you two doing here?” He barked at them.

“We came to save her.” Sam answered, his brow knitting together, as he put away the angel blade that was in his hand.

“A lot of good you two did.” Cursed Crowley. He turned and scooped you up in his arms. “You two were supposed to protect her, not let any harm come to her. And you bloody blew that one, morons!” He yelled.

Dean’s voice was harsh, but seemed so far away. “It was your demons that did this to her, you douche!”

Your head was resting against Crowley’s chest, and the steady rhythm of his vessel was lulling you to a sleep as your eyelids started to grow heavy. You knew it was a terrible thing, that you needed to get medical attention as you felt your shirt get more and more sticky from your own blood. You took a shallow breath, “Guys, can we not fight right now please?” You asked, your voice shaky and almost in a whisper.

Sam nodded his head, “Guys, she’s right, she’s hurt pretty bad.”

“Cas!” Dean yelled, “Cas get your feathery ass down here pronto!”

There was a flutter of wings you hand grown to know it as Castiel. Before you knew it, there was a warm sensation that made your skin tingle like you were being wrapped in a blanket of warm energy. With it, you found that all the pain simple vanished like sugar in water, and your breathing was restored. You knew that meant that Castiel had healed you, as it wasn’t the first time he had to do it. And you knew it wouldn’t be the last, either.

Standing on your own to feet, Crowley pulled you to his side. “Later boys.” He said as he snapped his fingers bringing you to this throne room, where you found yourself sitting on his lap.

Your brow knitted together as you looked at him, “Crowley?”

“I want you to stay here, where you will be safe until I find out what is going on.” He answered.

Smiling you leaned in and gave him a kiss, “Your wish is my command.”