#If love had come to me I wouldn't recognise it Now every time you smile it's a little priceless No story I could weave would have ended like

[capfalcon]

i genuinely think dermot kennedy is tapped into something else bc what the fuck are his songs im dying

[bookworm-with-coffee]

The Greatest Heist of All. . .

(How they react to your pet - Slytherin Boys x Reader)

Plot; Niffler inspired crackfics

Pairings; Sebastian Sallow x Reader (Romantic), Ominis Gaunt x Reader (Romantic)

Warnings; jealousy, coarse language, floofity fluff

________________________________________

Sebastian Sallow

When Sebastian first laid eyes on that Niffler, he knew trouble would start. In rescuing creatures, you had come to love many of them, but none more than those greedy little—

The brunette fumed at the thought of them. Those cute little beady eyes had won you over that day you'd both gone walking in the woods for a picnic date. That's when you'd stumbled upon a den of Nifflers.

Of course, most ran away. But, one remained. One annoying little—

Unafraid and curious, the little creature had sniffled and shuffled closer to you both.

"Mind your pockets", Sebastian commented, your hand waving to dismiss his words without a care.

"Look at you!!", you'd cooed at the little one, your boyfriend hardly sharing your enthusiasm on the creature.

You admired the blue fur on his back, reaching keenly to pet the cheeky little thing before it practically clambered onto your lap and into your arms. Sebastian's eyes rolled as your arms engulfed the Niffler, stroking your hands along his smooth hairs.

Attention went from your date to your uninvited guest, and after some time, Sebastian grew impatient and perhaps, a bit jealous as well?

"Alright, great. You've pet it. Now, can we go?", he huffed, raising a brow.

You pouted up at your boyfriend, the Niffler eagerly accepting your affections, "I don't want to just leave him here".

"He's a wild animal", the brunette reasoned. "He has a family. He'll be fine". But, the Niffler also seemed to share your resolve, not wishing to leave your kind embrace.

"I think— I want to keep him".

Oh God. Oh no—

"Nifflers are little thieves!", Sebastian insisted. "Who wants a pet that could rob you blind??".

Kneeling by your side, your freckled partner laid a gentle hand on your back before sliding it down to hold your spare hand in his attempt to coax you away.

The Niffler saw Sebastian's possessive behaviour and recognised it as a similar behaviour to those of his own kind. Could it be that you were valuable? Not gold, but a treasure as yourself?? This would be his biggest win yet, if that were so.

Sebastian's brown hues drifted to the Niffler, whose attitude had become a bit more insistent. The creature's eyes met his own and without breaking contact, deliberately snuggled into your chest, even daring to lay a possessive paw by your shoulder as if to say, mine.

Oh, it was on.

In the weeks that followed, things grew worse.

Every time there was even a mention of Sebastian, your Niffler saw fit to jump into your lap or arms to draw your attention.

Sebastian was at breaking point. Each time he spoke with you, there was that miscreant stirring him up. He'd even taken to insisting that the thing was evil, to your amusement.

Once or twice, the brunette even went as far as to mouth, "I'm watching you!", from over your shoulder, making the signal with his hands when you weren't looking.

It was unbelievable. A Niffler participating in some form of torturous psychological warfare. And Sebastian wouldn't let him win. You were his.

Then, your owl came and the existential dread continued.

Sebastian,

Would you be so kind as to babysit my Niffler? You'd be doing me a HUGE favour, as I'm away for most of the day on Saturday and he'll be left with no supervision and company.

Love always,

(Y/n) ♡

Bloody thing can starve, was his first thought, finally inwardly relenting when he thought of the consequences. You'd hate him forever if he did that.

So, it was off to your home he'd have to go.

"You boys behave while I'm gone", you'd teasingly instructed with a pointed finger and Sebastian played it off with a forced smile.

"Don't rush", he shrugged, making sure to pull you into the most passionate kiss he could offer, hoping the Niffler would weep on the inside.

"Sebastian", you giggled against his lips, almost tempted to stay for a more intimate moment were it not for your plans. "I am coming back".

His forehead leant on your own, the Niffler forgotten whilst his hands drew imaginary patterns on your waist. "I'll be waiting with bated breath", the brunette whispered, pressing another kiss to the tip of your nose. "I love you".

"I love you too", you sighed, allowing only one more peck on the lips before your parting.

Until the Niffler scuttled to you, pulling on the fabric of your blouse from where he sat on a table. "Oh, Darling", you fawned, Sebastian resisting the urge to hurl. "I'd nearly forgotten you!!". Lifting the creature, you kissed the top of his head. "Mama will be back soon, okay? Behave for your Dad".

Oh, God. He really was going to be sick.

Giving a final wave of your hand, you were off and away, Sebastian's unimpressed glower falling onto the Niffler beside him. "I am not your Dad".

The Niffler seemed to chatter, something akin to mischievous laughter. And I'm not going to behave.

Some of the most horrible hours of Sebastian's life came to follow.

It was one incident after the other, resulting in a few smashed vases and a bruised ego for Sebastian.

"That's it!", he finally snapped, pointing an accusatory finger at the little creature. "I've had it!! Whatever, it is!!".

As if scolding a child, Sebastian continued, "(Y/n) may think you're adorable, but I know the truth, you conniving thief! You might have fooled her, but you don't fool me!! And if you think for one second that—".

"Sebastian?".

His face paled, hearing the voice of his love and the Niffler took his chance. The mischievous creature began to sniffle, as if it were crying, before faking a limp whilst walking to you.

"What happened??", you cried out, spying the shards of a broken vase by the bench, still not cleaned up because of one little Niffler. Your attention instantly diverted to your pet, seemingly in hurt. "What did you do, Sebastian?!".

"What did I do??", he repeated incredulously. "I didn't do anything to him! It was that damn creature running amok!!".

All the while, you were focused on the aforementioned miscreant, feeding into his lies and infuriating Sebastian further.

"He's evil, (Y/n)! That thing needs to go!!".

"That 'thing', is Jeffrey!", you shot back.

"Oh?? So, it has a name now??".

Your eyes bore into the brunette's, searching his darker hues in silent scrutiny for a moment before you spoke again.

"You're jealous".

Those words made him stiffen, silencing any comebacks he'd bottled inside.

"That's ridiculous", Sebastian offered, too weak to be an argument.

"You are!", your mouth fell open, drawing your boyfriend's brows together.

"I am not jealous!".

"By Merlin", you gasped, trying to restrain any laughter threatening to spill out. "You're jealous. Of a Niffler?? ".

"He gets in the way!", Sebastian yelled, harsher than intended. "You're always giving him your attention, I hardly get it anymore! He's also consciously trying to steal you from me, for whatever reason!".

"Steal me?", your brow rose, a few giggles slipping out before your expression softened. Your eyes shifted to Jeffrey, noting that he was uncharacteristically fine for a creature so 'hurt' and you stroked over his fur, placing him aside. "You'll be fine".

The Niffler watched as you approached Sebastian, bringing him into an embrace. Your fingers combed through the soft waves of his hair and down to the nape of his neck, allowing him to melt in your arms.

"Sebastian", you sighed, shaking your head only slightly. "You're right. My attention from you has been divided. And while Jeffrey's behaviour was far from innocent—". You pulled back, running your fingertips over his face, encouraging his eyes to meet yours. "— I will never be stolen away from you. No Human or Niffler can steal me from the one who matters most to me. There's only one Sebastian Sallow. And that's rarer than any treasure".

A smile finally returned to Sebastian's face, the gap closing between you both. Your lips met his, gentle and breezy, calming the fires of anger and jealousy that had once stoked within his heart.

"I'll make us a cup of tea", you whispered, tapping the brunette on his nose, leaving only the brightest of smiles in your wake as you brushed by.

Sebastian turned his attention to the little shit sitting on the nearby counter, his tongue darting out teasingly. "I win".

The Niffler's head seemed to dip, suddenly sad and deflated. A pang of guilt hit Sebastian in that moment and it made him relent to the small creature.

"Fine", he grumbled, unable to fight his growing smile. "I can't believe I'm doing this, but–". He offered his hand. "— friends?". Jeffrey sniffled, almost seeming to nod in agreement when he extended his paw. "Just don't push your luck".

♡ °•° ♡ °•° ♡ °•° ♡ °•° ♡

Ominis Gaunt

The day Ominis met your pet Niffler was utterly magical.

You had lead him into your vivarium for the first time, introducing him to the array of magical creatures that were under your care.

Ominis got to feel the smooth and pristine feathers of a Joberknoll, the fluffy hairs of a Puffskein; and the beak of your Hippogriff, Highwing.

And then the cherry on top; your Niffler.

Nifflers were curious, but harmless creatures. They were notorious for stealing jewels, treasure, coins— anything that sparkled, really. With their affectionate nature and reputation for an adorable stature, it was not a mystery as to why you chose to keep the Niffler you rescued from poachers.

The blonde had always wanted to meet one of those cute little theives and in knowing this, you'd excitedly given him the opportunity.

"Where is he??", Ominis had asked, unable to mask the way his voice travelled an octave higher in his anticipation.

"This way!", he was able to hear the grin in your tone, widening his own as he eagerly allowed himself to be tugged along by the pale tips of his nimble fingers.

You'd gently helped the blonde to be seated on the soft grass, almost finding yourself mesmerised with how the sunlight struck his delicate features.

Whistling and clicking your fingers, there was a shuffling in the grass as something approached. It had startled Ominis only slightly, the new grip of your hand over his own settling him.

You guided his hand forward as you had done so before, his palm finally landing on something soft. A short gasp heaved from the blonde, his lashes fluttering at the new sensations beneath his skin.

There was the rapid rising and falling of the little creature's breaths as he sniffed over the new guest of the vivarium.

A smile carved its way onto Ominis' expression, hesitantly stroking over the little creature beneath his grasp. Your hand lead his over the Niffler's head and snuffling snout, a breathy laugh slipping from the blonde when the small breaths tickled his skin.

Long had he dreamed about this..

"Ominis, I'd like you to meet Sebastian", you laughed at the sudden quizzical look that dawned on your counterpart's expression.

"Sebastian?", Ominis echoed with a quirk of his brow. "You named your Niffler after our friend? ".

No, he wasn't jealous. Not at all.

"Only because he gets into so much trouble", you giggled. "He also has these adorable speckles on his fur around his face. Lilac fur with faded spots".

"Like freckles", he nodded in understanding, trying to fight the deflation dampening his initial excitement. "Does Sebastian know that you've named your 'child' after him?".

Ominis was sure that with the amount of time you'd spent with Sebastian on various escapades in the fifth year and the closeness you still shared now in your seventh, that the brunette had undoubtedly been the first to be shown the Room of Requirement and these lovely creatures.

Perhaps Sebastian was the better suitor for you??

"No, actually", your amused answer shocked Ominis. "I've never brought him here. He doesn't even know of this place".

"He doesn't?", the blonde's brows creased in a bout of confusion. "I thought he'd be the first to know of this place".

"What do you mean??".

Ominis' heart had begun to beat frantically within his chest whilst he'd attempted to play his jealousy and nerves off with a smile, as he often did when it came to your friendship with Sebastian.

"I— I just meant that you two are close", he replied with a tug of his shoulders. "I thought you might have been more inclined to show him over me, is all. I was only confused as to why it was the contrary".

In the few seconds of thoughtful silence that followed, you both had taken notice to the warmth of your hand that still lingered on his own, neither of you daring to separate them. Instead, your fingers slowly inched into the gaps between his own, hinting your intentions with your words,

"Do you not know?".

Ominis squeezed the digits threaded with his own like they were a life-raft, assuring you of his consent before your lips had taken his own in careful caresses.

Absolutely magical.

Or so he'd thought at the time, not realizing he'd just unknowingly declared war against a very protective Niffler.

Ominis dismissed it as paranoia at first, just shrugging off the seemingly possessive behaviour the little creature conveyed.

But, it had become apparent over the many weeks that it wasn't just his imagination playing tricks on him..

The Niffler was clearly jealous of your diverted attention. Ominis had figured that out rather quickly.

Just as the Niffler had figured out how to push his buttons. Like Sebastian.

Whenever you both had picnics in the vivarium or brought Ominis along to help in the care of your creatures, Sebastian lived up to his name.

The mischeievous miscreant always managed to get in the way, snatching Ominis' wand from his robes so that he wouldn't be able to find you or the other creatures before misplacing it to make it look as if it had dropped out by mistake.

You thought that's all it was, despite Ominis knowing and insisting otherwise.

Then, it was the Niffler napping on your lap whenever Ominis wanted to. And of course, you were a sucker for that adorable little shit. He could do no evil, apparently.

Holding hands? The Niffler went out of his way to pry the blonde's hand from yours, snuggling under yours to draw your attention; even going as far as to shove Ominis' hand away and preoccupy your palm with his paw.

Sitting together? Sebastian interfered with that too, worming his annoying little self between your bodies so that he could sit in the middle as a barrier to separate you both.

Whenever Ominis wanted time with you, Sebastian was always there. It was like the Niffler had been incarnated with a piece of his best friend's soul, always troublesome and always interfering.

Ominis finally hit breaking point when the little shit decided to make off not only with his wand, but with the handmade necklace he'd bought from Feldcroft in his most recent visit.

The blonde planned to give it to you as a gift, but even he should've known better than to have it in his pockets when visiting the vivarium to carry out a favour for you, his beloved.

Whilst you would be attending to family business today, he would care for your creatures. Something that was turning out to be a complete impossibility.

In Sebastian's mouth? Ominis' wand.

In his paws?? The necklace.

"Come back here, you little rat! Give those back, Sebastian!!", he cried out, only able to follow the scuttling in the grass and the jingling of the jewellery in the Niffler's greedy grasp.

Wheezing and panting, Ominis crawled and sprinted around, the Niffler releasing an occasional squeak whenever he got close. Until—

"Got you!", the blonde shouted, finding a grip on the Niffler that struggled desperately in his grasp.

It soon became clear that he was holding the little miscreant upside down, coins seeming to pour out of his marsupial-like pouch. His paws were still occupied with the necklace he'd stolen, whining in despair at the loss of his precious coins as they rained down to the floor.

"Serves you right!", Ominis seethed, breathless from his pursuit.

In a sense of victory, the blonde's lips curled into a grin, his fingertips running along the Niffler's belly. The creature chattered as if he were laughing, especially ticklish at the gentle prodding. More coins and jewels rained out as Ominis' fingers reached his sniffling snout.

Quickly snatching his wand back from the little creature's jaw, he boasted, "I win", before reaching for Sebastian's paws.

Ominis caught ahold of the necklace, but the Niffler's grip was like iron.

"Sebastian, give it to me", the blonde chided, tugging on the precious piece of jewellery. "Come on, Sebastian".

The Niffler struggled and resisted, never being more keen to possess anything in his life. Even the measly coins Ominis tried to trade couldn't compare to the necklace and he wasn't willing to break it.

"You stubborn mule! Fine!!", he snapped, huffing as he set Sebastian loose.

Dejected, the blonde sat himself down, soon recieving the company of your Puffskein as it nuzzled into his side. Despite his sadness, even he was unable to resist smiling at the affectionate creature.

Ominis reached over to pet the Puffskein, your mischievous Niffler watching from a distance. All of his lost coins were on the ground by the blonde's legs, but it wasn't them that drew Sebastian back.

It was the realisation that Ominis could love him just as much as you could. That his love was not a threat to the friendship you shared with your favourite pet.

Perhaps he'd tried stealing the wrong person??

Ominis seemed just as compassionate, if not moreso.

His attention soon became divided from the Puffskein when the cool and delicate metal of a necklace was dropped into his palm. The blonde almost couldn't believe it.

A Niffler?? Returning something shiny??

And then it clicked. It wasn't of value to him, but a ploy to sabotage your relationship with Ominis. Sebastian had felt threatened.

"Thank you", Ominis whispered, his lips curling out of amusement as the little creature began to shuffle around and pick up the coins that had dropped.

Perhaps Sebastian was more alike to his human counterpart than the blonde first realised? He has a heart of gold too, although it rarely shows.

And upon your return to the vivarium, you were delighted to find things resolved between your pet and boyfriend, knowing tensions and jealousy had been spiked between the two.

There, Ominis laid on the grass asleep, a freckled lilac Niffler upon his chest.

Your plan had worked..

The End. . .

___________________________________________

Hey readers!! ❤❤ I hope you all enjoyed these fics as much as I loved writing them!! As always, any and all feedback is welcome!

So, please - let me know how I went in writing for Sebastian and Ominis for the first time and how to improve, if I can! If you wished to be added to my taglist for this fandom or any others I write for, check out my masterlist and let me know what you'd like to be tagged in!

Thank you all for your support!! ❤❤❤

[russellsppttemplates]

A red thread tying you to me (Charles Leclerc)

There was something pulling you to him and Charles was ready to act on it

Note: english is not my first language. I loved the blurb and now we have a big piece too!

Thank you so much to everyone who likes and reblogs, your feedback is appreciated 🤍 and I'm taking requests so if you have any ideas or concepts you want to share, feel free to do so as I'll try to get to them the best I can!

my masterlist

Tw: mentions the death of reader's father's and Charles' father's deaths

Tag list: @myloverjk-blog @hiireadstuff @c-losur3

"The congress is just outside of Milan, the exact city and details are in there", your colleague Lucia offered as she flickered though the pages, "I've been a couple of times before and it's really enriching, I just know you'll love the students and the department head - she was my supervisor for a couple of years".

"It sounds great", you looked at the panel information and then the travel details, "it's such a shame you can't come with me though, but I also wouldn't want to risk your little dude showing up and have me as your midwife", you chuckled as Lucia rubbed her baby bump.

"You're capable of many things, Y/N, but I would prefer if the fate of my baby and my underparts was in the hands of a professional!", she bumped your shoulder, "and the area is really nice too, I'm sure you'll find something to keep you busy during the weekend".

"I have plans, actually, I'll be fine I think", you smiled.

Like Lucia predicted, you had a great time in the conference and the guest lecture you gave was applauded and discussed for nearly an hour after you showed the last slide of the presentation, topics going back and forth until everyone had to absolutely leave the room before the next lecture began. For now, you'd get to enjoy the region, drinking some wine and taking in the views you recognised.

The park where your father used to take you didn't look too different. The slides didn't look rusty anymore, and the swing was a bright red colour as you sat on it once you didn't see any other kid around who might want to use them and let yourself feel the breeze on your face and hair as you kicked your legs in and out. Your father used to make you feel like you could touch the sky with how high he helped you go, "you're going to touch the clouds, mia piccola stella", he would say and you would laugh loudly.

You missed him every single day, but over the years, your grief allowed you remember all of the happy moments you lived with him, cherishing them close to your heart. Spending the whole weekend in Monza and attending the race was something you hadn't done without him since he passed away. The circuit was your father's favourite - "it's the fans, Y/N, there's a thrill in the air that no other circuit has - Tifosi cover the streets, they're all you can see around town and it's magical almost" he would say to you, so when you noticed the conference was in the area and coincided with the Grand Prix weekend, both you and your mother agreed you should take the opportunity.

On your way back to the hotel, you stopped by the track, wondering what the preparations for a race weekend looked like after so many years. You still followed the sport, but you never got the chance to catch this on television.

"Oh my, oh my", you heard someone say beside where you were standing, "I can't believe my eyes, it's Y/N Y/L/N".

Turning around you spotted Salvatore, one of the mechanics your father worked with. He also had kids around your age and you would often play together whenever you were both in the garage for the weekend.

"Salvatore!", you cheered, giving him a big smile after kissing each of his cheeks, "you better believe your eyes then".

"It's been so long since I've seen you last", he recalled, rubbing your back softly. You and your mother had gone to Maranello for a tribute ceremony the team had for your father - that had been the last time he saw you.

"It has been, yes - I'm sorry", you apoligised. You told the team you'd be around and so much had happened since and you only watched it through a screen instead of living it in the flesh.

"It's okay, it was the time you needed - What brought you to Monza this weekend?", he wondered as he walked inside the paddock with you, scanning his card and getting you both in.

"A work trip actually - I finished a conference yesterday and I also gave a lecture at the university", you nodded, "and my father always loved Monza", you smiled at the memory, "he knew how cliché that sounded, but he always said there wasn't a better weekend on the calendar. And I've missed the rush, too", you offered, letting the tears flow freely and accepting them even though you were in the middle of the paddock, loud noises coming from every angle as the teams prepared the finishing touches for the upcoming race.

"He's very proud of you, I'm sure", Salvatore comforted, "and everyone will be happy to see you here - the little girl with the high pigtails is a grown woman now who attends conferences and gives lectures, who would've known?", he joked as you stepped inside the garage.

"Is this little troublemaker Y/N Y/L/N?", one of the oldest mechanics said after he applied a sticker to the halo.

When your father took you to the races, everyone knew they had fun guaranteed with you, always pulling pranks and laughing loudly, "my troublemaker days are over, I'm a responsible woman now", you chuckled, giving a quick wave to everyone before greeting everyone individually.

"Do you have tickets for this weekend?", Fred asked. Even though he had just met you, it was clear to him how much you mattered to everyone who worked with your father, "we can get you a pass, I'm sure".

"I have grandstand tickets", you stated.

"Silvia!", the team principal called the woman, making her approach him and rub your arm kindly, "do we have any guest passes left?".

"Let me check", Silvia mumbled, "we have one left, actually! Charles didn't even notice he asked us to save a ticket for his mother twice - I'll get it for you, it's in the meeting room upstairs", she smiled.

"Charles will also be very happy to see you around, did you tell him you were coming?", Salvatore mentioned.

"I haven't actually - I've been really busy", you mumbled.

You met the monégasque driver when he was Scuderia Ferrari's development driver and Prema Racing driver in Formula Two, accidentally running into him in the dining area of the hospitality and ending up spending most of his free time there throughout the whole weekend.

Quickly, it became a tradition to do so whenever he was over and whenever he was done with his Formula Two duties and you happened to be at the same track.

When you stopped attending races because the memories were too painful, you lost contact, opting to react to eachother's Instagram stories every now and again and sending quick messages through the social media app.

"The boys arrive today, but they're only coming to the track tomorrow", Fred added, "you'll have plenty of time to catch up".

Charles had finally arrived to the hotel after all the flights and drives, thankful that there weren't many fans around already and he could get inside without a hitch, checking in and getting his room keys.

"Hold it, per favore!", he said to the person on the lift, dreaming of the changing from his travel outfit and the bed waiting for him. When his hand helped him inside the metal door, he couldn't believe his eyes, "Y/N?".

He could remember the last time he saw you. He had just started his first season as a Formula One driver for Alfa Romeo and you had come back to the paddock for the first race of the season like you promised you would. He sat with you whenever he had a little break, you caught up with him and his early days as a driver with a seat rather than just watching from the sidelines.

"Charles, hi!", you gasped, hugging him and feeling him squeeze your body against his.

"I- what are you doing here? Are you here for the race?", he wondered. This couldn't be a mere coincidence. He hoped it wasn't.

"I had a work trip here that coincided with this weekend, and I thought of it as a sign", you explained, "you're staying in this hotel too?".

"Yes, the team are at the one where we usually stay for the weekend, but until Thursday, I'm staying here, yes", he smiled, "Goodness, I feel like it's both been forever and like it was yesterday", he chuckled, "do you want to get a drink? I have a nice selection in my room whenever I stay", he offered.

"I'd love to, Charles", you said, hoping that the tingly feeling on your tummy mirrored Charles' own excitement at this unexpected but valued encounter, "are you sure though? You just arrived".

"No, don't worry about that! My room is... 705", he checked on the card he was handed, "so you can join me now or maybe you want to set those things down first and meet me there?", he pointed to the bag you were carrying.

"Yes, this is quite heavy actually", you blushed, "my room is on this floor, so I'll meet in your room in fifteen? I need to freshen up because I've been walking around town all day".

Leaving the elevator on your floor, Charles waved at your before the doors closed andyou headed to your door. Stepping inside, you left the totebag with the books you bought in the chair before heading to the bathroom, brushing out any tangles in your hair and splashing your face with water to freshen up.

After getting yourself ready to go, you went up to Charles' floor, knocking on the door and waiting for him.

"Come in, come in!", Charles offered after he opened the door, "I've unpacked but kept it very organised still", he chuckled as you walked inside the room. It looked the same as yours did, only a different colour pallette for the decoration.

"How have you been?", you wondered once you sat down and shared some sparkling water, neither of you really feeling like drinking anything alcoholic.

"You surely know more about me than I know about you", Charles smiled, "but it's been good, this season has been great so far, I feel like we're in a really good path and things are working well", he took a sip from his cup, "the team have done such an incredible job".

"And the driver on the car doesn't have anything to do with that?", you squinted at his ever so modest take on things.

"I suppose I do", he blushed.

"I may have not been here, but I've watched every race - minus some of the ones at daft o'clock, I only watched those when my sleep was all messed up", you joked, "you're an essential part of this team, Charles, everyone can see that so you should give yourself more credit", you touched his arm.

Even though it had been years since you last saw eachother, you hit it off immediately and it seemed like no time had passed.

"And you? What is this work trip that brought you here?", Charles nodded.

"You're not the only one who gets to travel for work, alright?", you tsked, "I had to do a presentation on a conference and then the department invited me for a lecture, nothing big".

"Who's being ever so modest now, hm? That is fantastic, mon ange!", he congratulated before he noticed the words coming out of his mouth.

"When I noticed it fell around this weekend, I told my mum and she said that I should try and dip my foot here - I've been wanting to come to race sooner but...", you trailed off.

"I get it - it's hard going to the places that remind you of them", Charles took his hand in yours and squeezed it, "he was so cherished by the team, I'm sure everyone will be very happy to see you".

"Actually, I walked to the track today so I could see it up close before the race - I hoped it wouldn't be such a big shock once I got there on Friday -, and I bumped into Salvatore", you smiled, "he let me go into the garage and I saw everyone, it was really nice", you looked up so the tears on your eyes wouldn't fall.

"I can get you a pass, let me just text Silvia!", Charles said as he got his phone from his pocket with his free hand.

"She already did", you chirped, "apparently you booked two for your mother, so they had a spare one".

"You see, a couple of years ago, my mum was too late to tell me she was coming to the race and I was out of the guest passes, so I always have one on hold for her and I sent the list with her name on it as well", he admitted, "but it seems to have turned out just fine - meant to be even".

You ended up requesting room service for the two of you for dinner, neither feeling like going out of the room after feeling so comfortable there. Conversation was steady, vulnerability was easy to show and the butterflies were happily dancing on your tummy.

"I better get to my room, then", you stated once Charles told you about what he needed to do tomorrow once he was at the track.

"I didn't mean it that way - I'm fine!", he said after doing his best attempt at containing a big yawn, "I'm fine!".

"You're tired, and frankly so am I", you admitted as you got up from the bed.

"Would you like to come with me to the track tomorrow? If you don't have other plans that is", he mumbled the last part.

"I don't - I was just going to work a little bit, but if you find me a spot in the hospitality, I'll happily take my stuff there", you smiled reassuringly as you put on your shoes and headed to the door.

"I can take you to your room", Charles got up from the bed and followed you.

"No need, my room is just downstairs", you reasoned, kissing his cheek in a silent thank you still.

"That's right - so we'll go tomorrow after breakfast?", he rested his body on the door once you opened it.

"Yes, that works for me! Good night, Charles", you smiled before walking up to the elevator.

.

Walking inside the hospitalitynwith Salvatore and the rest of the team, he was quick to show you where you could set up.

"Charles likes to spend as much time as possible with the fans and it's right about now that they start becoming more and more and they're everywhere, too", he explained as he helped you in the table on the lounge area, "there's food and coffee in there if you need anything", Salvatore smiled, "if you need anything, just ask someone".

"Thank you - this is perfect", you assured, sitting down and working on your laptop and reading some of the books you had bought.

Charles and Carlos finally arrived at the hospitality, greeting the team and talking to them for a while before they headed upstairs for a meeting.

"You didn't tell me you had a girlfriend and you were bringing her here", Carlos told Charles as he poured some coffee on a mug after the meeting.

"I don't - I haven't brought a girlfriend here", Charles quirked an eyebrow at his team-mate.

"So who is that young woman you just smiled at and are pouring coffee for after giving her the heart eyes?", it was the spanish driver's turn to raise his eyebrows.

"Oh, Y/N!", Charles smiled as he mentioned your name, "she's an old friend! Her father was a mechanic before he passed away a few years ago - the older team members have known her since she was little, everyone loves her", he mused.

"Everyone loves her - I can see that", Carlos chuckled as he followed Charles to the table.

"We don't want to interrupt or disturb you too much", Charles announced as he set the mug next to your laptop.

"It's fine, sit sit!", you encouraged as you closed the books you no longer needed to make room for them, "I'm Y/N", you told Carlos.

"I'm Carlos", he smiled back, "nice to meet you", he said before you dove into conversation, discussing anything that popped into your minds and getting to know eachother.

"Don't let her fool you into believing she has always been a responsible, put together girl because she used to steal and hide all of our tools!", Antonio, one of the engineers pointed at you after he got himself a bottle of water, "Charles knows her tricks already but you, Carlos, don't fall for that!".

"You loved it every time I was on the computers and drew on Paint! You even had one of my drawings as the background for almost an entire season!", you threw at him as he approached you, patting the top of your head protectively.

"I'd like to see that! I've only known her since she was way older", Charles pouted.

"Jealous much?", Carlos teased, his voice above a whisper as Charles seemed to get flustered.

"Is it really that obvious?", the monégasque driver mumbled once you got up to get something to eat, "I've had a crush on her since I was a development driver".

"Why have you never said anything? She seems like she really cares about you too", Carlos mused as he thought to a few moments before where you too gqve him heart eyes. He would have to be blind to not notice it, and even then the energy between you too would still be felt.

"The timing wasn't right, I guess - her father passed away almost right after as I became a driver for Alfa Romeo, and she hasn't been in the paddock since. We have texted every now and again over the years and now she happened to be here for the race too", Charles offered.

"I'd say you should take a shot - trust me, she likes you back", Carlos patted Charles' shoulder after getting up, watching you go back to the table with a big smile on your face.

.

After Charles took pole position in qualifying, the team stayed a bit longer for the debrief, going over a few points of the discussion and the changes they still needed to make before the race.

"Y/N! We're having dinner at one of our favourite restaurants in town and I'm counting you in, okay?", Charles said as he spotted you in the garage, followed by Andrea, who had been keeping you company along with his brothers, Charlotte and Pascale.

"Your family is here for you, Charles, I don't want to intrude", you said as you got up, unaware of the Leclerc matriarch behind you.

"Chérie, of course you won't be intruding - we'd love to have you there!", Pascale chirped in.

"Well, in that case...!", you smiled, "just tell me where I should go and at what time, or are we going straight there?", you wondered.

"I was thinking we could go straight there if that's okay with you - you can can come with me and Andrea can ride with my brothers", Charles suggested, "unless you need to go back to the hotel", he quickly scrambled.

"No, I'm fine! Unless this outfit is not restaurant appropriate", you muttered as you looked down. Against all odds, you managed to not get any food stains on your dress. It was a midi skirt cut, flowy to allow your body to feel cool considering the warm Italian day.

"It's fine - you're fine, you look beautiful!", Charles was quick to assure you.

"Good, that's good then", you smiled before excusing yourself to go and get your things.

"You have to tell her, Charles - your affection is no use to either of you if you keept it in here", Pascale tapped her son's chest.

.

"Y/N", Charles called you before he had to go and get ready for the race, "I have something for you - we do", he said as some of the mechanics, including Salvatore, followed him.

"Oh, what is it?", you smiled.

"We commented with some guys back at the factory that you were here with is this weekend and they found something we thought you'd like to have", Salvatore said as he handed you a bag.

Looking inside, you noticed an old Ferrari cap and some embroidered lettering on the side, recognising it immediately. When you were a teenager, you decided to try different hobbies and hand embroidery was the one that stuck the most, so much so that on one of the race weekends, you embroidered caps for everyone on the team that asked you.

"My wife remembered the one I have at home and then the guys at Maranello found your father's and apparently one you did for Charles' as well", Salvatore offered as you took them both out.

"Dad always said he had plenty of embroidered things at home and this one was the one he had to travel with him", you chuckled as tears welled up in your eyes, feeling Charles soothingly rub your back.

"I remember getting this and loving it - I thought I had lost it!", Charles said, unaware if how close he was pulling you together so he could get a peek at the old caps.

"There's some loose string here", you chuckled, wiping the tears and fiddling with the red thread, "I didn't know how to properly tie it at the start, I kept losing it - I think I even glued it down at some point. Thank you for bringing this out", you smiled.

"Would you mind if I wore this for the driver's parade?", Charles asked you.

"I was planning on wearing my dad's while I watched the race", you offered, testing the fabric and placing it on your head before doing the same with Charles, fixing it on his head and looking up at him.

You never got over how handsome he was. The little scar on his cheek, his mole, the smile that never failed to make you smile, his beautiful green eyes. His kindness, his gentleness, his talent - there wasn't a way to deny how much you liked it. How much you liked him.

"We will be matching then!", Charles squeezed you against him before going to his driver's room.

Only when Charles was headed to take P1 on the grid did he hand the cap back to Salvatore and put on his helmet, giving you a wink before he left.

"How are you feeling?", Pascale asked as she sat next to you to watch the race. Over the last couple of days, she had grown close to you, not only because you had captured her son's heart and she wanted to get to know you, but also because Charles had told her how emotionally charged it was for you to be at the track, in Monza nonetheless.

"It's a lot", you admitted, "everyone has been so kind and warm, so all of the heavy feelings have been slowly infiltrating the good ones and it's been easier to deal with them like that", you blinked away a few tears.

"I get it", Pascale nodded, "losing someone is not easy, and I can't imagine what it feels like for you - the boys and I talk about my late husband every now and again and it gets easier to talk about it, I think that's what it is anyway".

"Yes, definitely like that. My mum and I have reached the point where we don't cry at every mention - despite what you might have noticed this weekend", you chuckled.

"It's emotional, chérie - I, for one, always cry whenever the boys achieve their goals. Hervé isn't here to see them, but I know he knows, and the boys know how proud he is of them", Pascale smiled, keeping some tears at bay too.

"You raised amazing young men, don't doubt that", you let out. At this point, you were sure she had noticed or had at least an inkling. As any mechanic for the red team who knew you since you were a kid would say, you were never a good liar - anytime you said you didn't touch something, they knew to look in your backpack first.

"Thank you, dear", she added, "you know, Charles is quite careful in who he lets in, but he's never been good at hiding how much he cares about someone and I can tell he cares a great deal about you".

"I care a lot about him too", you smiled before you were handed a pair of headphones each with the race about to start.

When Charles successfully kept the cars behind him away with a good gap, you clapped and watched the remaining laps number get smaller and smaller until there was only the current lap left.

Charlotte held your hand together with hers as you watched Charles be the first driver to see the checkered flag and when Xavi yelled "And P1!" into the radio, you did your happy dance, not having a care in the world about what others thought as you watched the Tifosi erupt in cheer.

"He did it! He did it!", Pascale clapped for her son, Arthur hugging her while Lorenzo did the same with his girlfriend while you softly touched your father's embroidered name on your cap with your fingers.

Running up to Parc Fermé, you stood in the sea of red, waiting for him to come back and hug them.

"You did so well, congratulations!", you said as you pulled Charles for a hug.

"Had my good luck charm with me!", he smiled back, kissing your cheek as he took advantage of you being shielded by the mechanics and engineers.

The team celebratory dinner was going really well, everyone happy with how the weekend panned out with both drivers on the podium and enjoying the meal on the restaurant's outside patio.

"If you guys want dessert, they're going to set them out on that table and you can grab as much as you like", Fred spread the message as you could see all kinds of sweet foods being brought out, a pudding catching your eye along with some raspberries.

You and Charles got the dessert plates and served yourselves, noticing the staff was already clearing up the tables, meaning you'd have to move to the bar area, many people opting to skip dessert and get some drinks instead.

"You can see the stars so clearly tonight", you mused as you looked up at the sky, setting your plate on the high table.

"My father always said that the stars did shine brighter here, and tonight the sky is very clear", Charles hummed in agreement, looking at your face. The moonlight and the dim lighting for the lamps and fairy lights illuminated all your features perfectly - your smile as you looked up formed the dimples on your cheeks, your eyes that were a tiny bit squinty and the way your whole body seemed relaxed.

The goosebumps on your arms caught his eye though, "here, have this", Charles said as he offered you the cardigan he had carried around all night since according to him his mother made him do it because it would be cold.

"Thanks", you smiled as you pulled the sleeves and folded them around your wrist so they would fit better, "this is really comfy, I might steal this if you don't ask for it back", you joked.

"I don't mind if you keep it, you have had my heart all these years", Charles stated. There it was.

"What?", you faced him, heart beating fast inside your chest.

"It's true, I've had a crush on you since I first met you, and these past couple of days have been amazing, and I can't believe it took me all these years to realize how I truly feel about you Y/N", he told you, no stutter or sign of regret on his face.

"I haven't been around, really, it's my fault", you fiddled with your thumbs before looking at him again, "but I can't lose you again".

"You never lost me, amour", he smiled as his eyes flickered between your eyes and your lips, his hand cupping your cheek your mouth pressed on his, ignoring everything and everyone around you.

Interrupting the kiss for air, Charles giggled as you hid your face in his neck once you heard the cheers and whistles, your lashes tickling him as his arms circled your waist and pulled you closer to him.

"He wins inside the track and outside of it, Charles Leclerc, P1 to Y/N's heart!", Carlos shouted before whistling again.

"Just so you know, I want an invite to your wedding!", Salvatore pointed his finger at you, "I still remember when you invited me for your wedding with Vettel!".

"You and Seb?", Charles chuckled once you pulled away from his neck.

"Sebastian was my favourite when I was little", you giggled, hiding your face on Charles' chest this time, "when he was back in RedBull still, I asked my father to ask him if he could take a photo with me and I cherished that for so many years - it was my most prized possession!".

"I can't promise you Seb, but I can promise you the very best of me", Charles said as he kissed the top of your head.

[lewkwoodnco]

Hii I wanted to request Anthony Lockwood×fem!reader with Invisible string, where they're neighbours for years, and used to play together as children. When Lucy joins the agency, she becomes friends with the reader, so the reader starts to be more around their house. Then Anthony starts interacting with her more, and they become friends, but Anthony realises his falling for her, so he starts to become awkward and shy around her she notices it and confronts him about it, then he confesses.

Invisible String - Lockwood x Reader

A/N: fluffy fluffy, though there is like the baaarest hint of angst which is kind of brief as long as you dont dwell on it too long + most of it gets resolved hehe and its made up for in the happy happy ending! yay!! personally i imagine the song she's humming at the piano to be invisible string heheh wc 5.4k

Lucy is waiting by their garden gate impatiently. They weren't running late for their job, but it was chilly out and she wanted to get in a cab before it got much colder. Lockwood walks out soon enough, holding a letter, but he walks to the fence rather than the gate. Over the fence, there's a girl pulling on her gloves as she walks towards her own gate, but Lockwood waves her over.

"What's this? Another lawsuit?"

"Not for me, at least. Our mail got mixed up again."

"Ah. Thanks."

They talk about their week for a while. Lucy watches Lockwood's polished exterior melt as his body language becomes more casual and fluid. The girl pockets the letter and the two of them look at each other for a while. He lamely gestures to her outfit.

"You look nice. Going on a date?"

"Yeah, with this guy in my pottery class."

"That sounds nice. Have fun."

"Thanks. You stay safe."

"I'll try."

Lucy walks over, looking at Lockwood meaningfully while he stiffens reflexively. "Who's your friend?"

"We're just neighbours." The girl smiles pleasantly, but Lucy doesn't miss the way he carefully watches her. They introduce themselves to each other. They chat a little, and Lucy picks up on her good-natured teasing of Lockwood appreciatively.

"So you must have known Lockwood for a while now, right?"

"Try ever since I was born. Our parents got on so well that we used to have dinner together every other day. And that was excluding brunch on the weekends. Trust me, I've had enough playdates with him to last a lifetime."

"Lockwood! You've never mentioned her, not even once."

"Well, to be fair, that was all years ago. We've been a little busy for the, um, last decade or so." There's a silence.

"Oh, there was that summer..."

"Yeah."

"Hmm."

"That had been nice."

An uncomfortable prickling accompanies the silence this time. She finishes fiddling with her gloves and looks ready to walk away, but Lucy recognises the suppressed look in Lockwood's eyes and tries to salvage the situation.

"You should come over sometime. We're doing some spring cleaning tomorrow, if you want to join."

"Luce. Let's not burden Y/N with chores."

"No, no, that sounds nice. I'd love to help. Though Lockwood never struck me as the spring-cleaning type."

"He's being coerced. We're holding his favourite rapier hostage."

Her lips twitch as she slices the envelope open. "Well, I wouldn't want to keep you from your job. Be careful. Mum sends her love." She says the last part more to Lockwood, who smiles with a warmth Lucy had seen little of. He watches her walk out, skimming the letter, and it isn't until George joins them that he looks away.

------------------------------------------------------------------------------

Their case is so exhausting and Holly piles so much work on him the next morning that he forgets that she's coming over. It isn't even until the afternoon that he realises she's there at all, when looking for someone to help him rip the stitches off some old curtains. He walks into one of the spare rooms, calling out for George, but he stops short when he sees an unfamiliar figure standing on the bed, peeling posters off the wall. She glances behind and he suddenly remembers the events of last evening.

"Oh - Y/N. Hello. Have you seen the others lately?"

"Lucy went out to get another scraper and I think George went down to the Archives. Holly just left for the post office."

"Oh. I see. Er, do you need help?" She turns around from the poster she was steadily peeling off, dropping it into the pile with satisfaction.

"Nope, that was last of them. Anything I can help you with?"

He hesitates, and she picks up on it.

"Lockwood, I don't have anything to do until Lucy comes home anyway. I don't mind, really."

He relents and she agrees to help immediately, poising to step off the bed. She pauses before making the step, looking at the floor nervously.

"...need help getting down?"

"No. Just...give me a minute." She tries to hold onto the bed's headboard but still suffers from some internal struggle in stepping down. The image triggers a decade-old dormant memory in him, of the time she had slipped from the picnic tabletop in her garden and twisted her ankle. Instinctively, he holds out a hand, which she grabs thankfully and is down so quick he doesn't even realise until she pulls her hand away. The feel of her fully-grown hand in his is a jarring yank back to the present.

"Still so afraid of heights?"

She shudders. "My ankle still twinges if I so much as think of making a small leap. Now, where are those curtains?"

They decide to occupy the couch in the living room, and it's a bit of a tight squeeze with the piles of linens towering around them, but they manage.

"So you take the seam ripper, like so," Lockwood fumbles with the comically small seam ripper but somehow slots it under a tiny stitch, "and you rip the seam. Just like that."

She rips the stitch on her curtain with greater efficiency than him. He looks mildly startled. She glances at the pile of curtains next to her, and then the one next to Lockwood.

"Looks like I'll be done with my pile first."

There's a pause as Lockwood processes her words and the glimmer of competition in her eyes, and then they both leap into action, tugging down yards and yards of fabric, painstakingly unravelling the seams stitch by stitch. It doesn't take long for them to start playing dirty. She tries to block Lockwood's vision by flapping the dusty curtains at him and he tries to slow her down by holding her curtains down. But by the time the rest return, they're too engrossed to sabotage each other so that Lucy finds them sitting in some weird contorted manner, ripping seams feverishly.

"I was only gone two hours! Both of you've done all that?"

She tries to shush Lucy, already feeling herself slow down as she tries to free up enough mental capacity to answer. She feels rather than hears Lockwood giggle in delight as he picks up his pace. Lucy shakes her head, walking out to the kitchen.

"Find me when you're done, I'm having tea." She groans, heavily enticed by the suggestion of biscuits and sweet tea after an afternoon of stringing her fingers to bits.

"Wait, wait, truce please, I want tea."

Lockwood reluctantly lets up, stretching under the sea of curtains around them. They part ways for the evening, taking breaks or helping out with other smaller projects, but they reconvene after dinner, though with significantly less fervour.

An hour or two past midnight, once his neck had started to ache too much, he looks over at Y/N, and realises she's fast asleep. He moves to shake her awake, but she looks so peaceful and alarmingly similar to the little girl he remembered her as that it gives him pause. Lockwood wasn't one for sentimental doting, but it felt nice to have a piece of his long-forgotten childhood in his home again, safe and warm.

He makes a quiet phone call to her parents before fetching a blanket for her. That night, the childhood memories he falls asleep to are warm and happy.

------------------------------------------------------------------------------

Lucy wakes up from her nap in a delightfully warm haze. The house is quiet, likely because of everyone staying up late the previous night. She shuffles to the kitchen, but pauses when she hears a curious sound echoing in the hallway. She blearily follows it to the living room, where she sees Y/N and Lockwood sitting opposite each other at the coffee table, playing poker. She seemed to be trying her best to stop giggling, yet failing, while Lockwood berated her.

"Your poker face sucks, Y/N. I know more about your cards than I do mine."

She shakes with silent laughter, covering her face with her cards ashamedly as Lockwood joins in with the laughing. It's a weirdly surreal sight to see. Everntually, Lockwood's eye drifts and he spots Lucy standing in the doorway.

"Luce. Have a good nap?" Lucy grumbles some incoherent reply, pulling a biscuit out of the biscuit tin. She sits down and watches them shriek at each other (Lockwood was right, her poker face was downright terrible) as they finish the game, and Lucy can't help but smile over the idiots.

------------------------------------------------------------------------------

"Where's Y/N?"

The first words out of Lockwood's mouth the next morning were arguably his most poorly-chosen yet, especially without any buffer from the relentless mocking of Lucy and George. One of them alone was bad enough, but with both of them joining forces, it made for a very weary breakfast.

"Cool it, she's my friend. Get your own."

"Then what does that make us, if not friends?"

"Neighbours." Lucy smiles innocently as Lockwood throws a dish towel at her.

The rest of breakfast passes up uneventfully, which makes the incident the first thing out of Lucy's mouth as soon as she steps through the door.

"Morning!"

"Lockwood missed you at breakfast this morning."

"Did not."

Between Lucy's smirk and Lockwood sullenly hiding in the shadowed hallway, she wasn't sure what to start with.

"Did too, he so wanted you to be there."

Lucy turns to Lockwood, daring him to contradict her. Holly steps out of the kitchen, straightening her pinafore, but doesn't pick up on the tension so she just smiles. His eyes dart between the three of them and some part of his body decides that panic is the best reaction of choice.

"DEPRAC wants to steal my papers," he says as some odd form of explanation, before disappearing into his room. Lucy snorts while Holly and her share a puzzled look.

"I think he's talking about our case report."

Whatever it was, it was being tucked away into his coat when she ran into him at the front door about ten minutes later. His smile is part grimace.

"Sorry about earlier." He stops talking, but looks like he wants to say more, so she patiently hovers. "About breakfast - I just feel bad for doing all this free labour, breakfast is the least I could offer-"

"Don't sweat it, I'm fine."

"Well, I'd feel a lot better if you popped by for a bun every now and then."

Her lips twitch. "Maybe I will."

There's a concerned look in his eye and his gaze that lasts a little too long to be comfortable, and it reminds her of the last time he looked at her like that. It had been near the tail end of the summer a few years back, late at night. She had been crying something awful on her front porch after a certain Noah Lewis had dumped her, and he was neighbourly enough to play a good samaritan in talking her through it.

It had started with a lot of unrestrained swearing and dragging of Noah Lewis' name through the mud as soon as she walked through the front gate, the kind that made her father peer out the window in alarm and then disappear back into the house. After a good quarter of an hour of this, her rage faded along with her energy, and she ended up crying embarrassingly on Lockwood's shoulder. "That's it," she had sobbed into his soft, forest green sweater that smelled like clean cotton. "I'm done with dating. It's the single life for me from now on." What flimsy grip she had managed over her emotions started to slip once more, as she burst into a new set of wails.

"Oh God, I'm going to die alone!" Lockwood rubbed comforting circles on her back as she clutched him tighter.

Looking back, she understood the smile on his face a little better, though a part of her still wanted to stay peeved at him for laughing at her misery. At least he had the decency to cold-shoulder Noah when he came around a few days later.

The memory occupies the back of her mind for the rest of the day, and it's still there when Lockwood returns. She doesn't realise it, but it makes her soften around him, though not noticeably so. By then, they've cleared up enough of the house to uncover the piano tucked away in the basement. Holly had spent the afternoon lovingly tuning it and polishing it up, but no one else seemed much interested in it.

After dinner, she sees Lockwood sitting at the piano, watching the keys as if he's too afraid to touch them. She joins him at the bench, taking in the sight of the glossy keys she could barely hear being played from her room when she was a child. Maybe that's what she's thinking about when she asks him to play something for her, and he obliges.

He plays a short piece that isn't extremely elaborate by any means, but it's beautiful and makes her want to rest her head on his shoulder. When he finishes, there's a short silence, and she tells him it was beautiful. She feels him smile against her head. Her fingers meander over the keys and she plays the occasional note as she hums some tune tucked away in the recesses of her mind. He picks up on it after a while, playing a more complete accompaniment to her stilted humming. She tilts her head where it rests on his shoulder to look at his face, and his hand slips on the note. She wishes to stay there forever.

------------------------------------------------------------------------------

"Hey."

"Hey."

"Hey." The last one was from Lucy, and it earned her a reproving glare and there was this silent yet intense communication between the girls. It's the next day, and now they've started on the library, sifting through the masses of newspapers dating well back into the past century. Lockwood had just returned from helping George at the archives (all the dust and cleaning was making his allergies act up so he wasn't at peak performance, as much as hated to admit it). She finally looks away from Lucy with the air of washing her hands of her, looking up at a forgotten Lockwood.

"Your coat collar's turned up."

"He does that to look cool. And because you're here. Dunno if you've noticed, Lockwood, but the coat hanger's by the door."

"Ha-ha. I'm leaving for Satchell's soon. Just...wanted to see how you were getting on."

"Wanted to see how Y/N was getting on."

"No, no." But his voice is a little too high-pitched to be fully convincing, and Lucy bursts out laughing, and his annoyance evaporates his nervousness. "Just making sure you haven't bullied her to tears, Luce."

"I've been such an angel."

She traces the outline of Lockwood's coat with her gaze fondly. "I remember the morning you bought it." She leans conspiratorially towards Lucy. "Preened in front of me for a good ten minutes, shifting his weight around to look cool. He only stopped when he heard my dad coming out to get the paper."

"That's awfully patient of you. George and I just try to suffocate him when he gets too unbearable."

"Are - are you hearing this? Admission of assault."

'Oh hush, you big baby."

She smiles as she watches them bicker. Lockwood clutches his chest with an exaggeratedly injured look, and their eyes briefly meet. He looks away first.

"What can I say? When you're stuck with this...peacock of a neighbour, you're bound to be forced into being an adoring audience on more than one occasion. Comes in and disrupts my peaceful mornings."

"Someone had to appreciate it, and you're always up at the crack of dawn."

"So are you, but you don't sleep so it doesn't count."

Lockwood lets out an uncharacteristic bark of laughter. Lucy's eyes look like they're about to fall out of her head.

"Sue me for wanting to share first thing I bought with my hard-earned money with someone."

She chokes on her breath, barely holding herself back from a fit of giggles. Lucy looks as though Christmas had come early.

"Lockwood had a job? Like, a proper one?"

"Well, I don't know if I'd call it a job so much as a cosplay of being working class. But yes, he manned a frozen yogurt cart in the park a few summers back. First and last time i've seen him willingly sit out in the sun."

"Oh, please, at least I didn't spend my days making eyes at Noah Lewis."

She shrugs in mock ignorance in a way that Lockwood can't help but match her smile. For a while the only sounds that could be heard were of the girls shifting through the newspaper with inky fingertips, until Lockwood finally gets up to leave for the client meeting.

It's an uneventful trip and consultation, but looks promising enough in terms of commission. It's tedious enough to make him peckish for a mid-morning snack. When he returns, he walks into the kitchen to sneak a biscuit and finds her fiddling near the stove.

"Oh, hi. Lucy and I wanted some tea but I'm not quite sure I know how your kettle works..."

He fiddles with the plug a little, twisting the wire in ways that make her concerned for his safety, but eventually they hear the kettle hum cheerfully, and they silently wait for the water to boil. She fidgets, trying to make small talk.

"How's George's room coming along?"

"I told him to pick out his favourite biohazards. The rest would have to go."

The kettle starts to crackle louder now. She eyes it apprehensively but Lockwood doesn't seem to even register it.

"House looks...pretty much the same."

"Yeah."

"I like it."

"Thank you. But I'm glad we're doing this. The spring cleaning, I mean. Sometimes I wonder if it's too crowded."

"I like it. I think it's crowded with life."

He gives her a soft smile and when he looks at her, he's not as quick to look away as before. But then he remembers her outing last evening and carefully broaches the subject. After all, it had been a while since they talked about things like this, and she was by no means obligated to, but he tried.

"How was your...date?"

"Hmm? Oh, yes. It was alright. He's a nice guy. Patient. Down-to-earth Unlike someone I could mention."

Her teasing smile is back, and Lockwood feels as though a weight has been lifted off his shoulders. His features contract into a familiar melodramatic expression.

"I'm sorry I disrupted so many peaceful mornings."

A smile slides back onto his face as she scoffs and gives him a shove. "Very funny. You were plenty insufferable before your friends came along. You're lucky I wasn't as creative as them."

"Mm, so grateful."

More silence. "They seem nice, George and Lucy. I see why you spend so much time with them."

And not so much with me, she wanted to add, but she didn't want to cause unnecessary strife, so she just focused on keeping her tone light. But Lockwood still picked up on the subtle edge of bitternes.

"I thought you...moved on to other things in life. You don't stop to chat by the fence much anymore."

"You got so busy with your agency business. I didn't want to impose."

She glances at Lockwood's genuinely puzzled expression, his lips barely parted as she saw the cogs turning in his head, trying to reconcile the idea of their chats being an imposition. She feels awkward in a way she's never felt with him, even when it was just the fence in between the two of them. They went from close, to distant, to kind of close again for that one summer they were 16, and now...now she wasn't sure.

"I'm sorry I made you feel that way. I...I didn't mean to."

"Yeah, well...you can say hi more often. Or bye. If you wanted to." It was stupid; she knew she was being childish but she couldn't help it. Something still smarted inside of her when she saw the three of them traipsing off most nights, something she didn't quite understand.

"I always want to."

"Lockwood? You better not be withholding tea."

They get startled by Lucy's voice and take a step back. Lockwood fumbles as he pulls off the top of the cottage-shaped container, scooping out piles of teabags. "Look, plenty of tea. All the tea. Please don't tell Lucy."

She shakes her head, bemused, pouring water into their mugs just as Lucy walks in, narrowing her eyes suspiciously at Lockwood. Luckily, she gets distracted quickly enough and starts dumping sugar into her mug. She watches Lucy for a while until Lockwood fold his jacket over his arm, brushing her shoulder as he walks past.

"Hm?"

He stops by the door to the kitchen, a familiar easy smile on his face. He looks like home.

"Bye."

------------------------------------------------------------------------------

"Why do you call him Lockwood? Surely you knew him when he was 'Anthony,' or - or was it 'Big A'? Please tell me it was 'Big A.'"

She had started to become a regular visitor at the breakfast table, which meant more time for Lucy to spend interrogating her on everything and anything about Lockwood. Even George had joined in briefly; it was too good of an opportunity to pass up for an enigma like Lockwood. All the while, he anxiously flitted around, on guard to brush off anything too incriminating.

He carries the kettle away, mildly peeved. "I think that's enough tea for you, Luce." Lucy makes a face behind his back and the girls share a muffled laugh.

"Oh, he hasn't been Anthony for ages." She smiles briefly, but gives Lucy's hand an intentional squeeze, her eyes asking Lucy to not press it. She doesn't realise how Lockwood has suddenly become much more interested in the paper only because she too is avoiding eye contact.

She remembers it like it was yesterday. Her parents had done their best to help Lockwood, but there was only so much they could legally do (not that it stopped her mother from sniffing disapprovingly at every inept social worker that walked up the garden path). It had been after Jessica's funeral, and for once they were both on the same side of the fence: sitting on the steps to the porch. He was wearing a suit that was a bit too big for him, not unlike his daily attire now, and the smell of burnt rubber hung in the air.

"I don't think I want to be Anthony anymore."

It was a decision that never confused her, not even for a minute. Anyone would have needed a reconstruction of identity after going through such traumatic experiences at an age as young as his. Adjusting to the change had been surprisingly smooth too; he didn't look much like Anthony after that day either. But it was bone-deep agony to watch time drip by, like lazy honey, and only being able to hope that he was getting happier.

Lucy picks up on the hint and starts asking George about the rooms they need to tackle today. Meanwhile, she walks past the kitchen window, nearly bumping into Lockwood. They breathe a reflexive apology and laugh lightly. Her eyes land on the angry red cut on his forehead.

"How's the-?"

"Oh, it's fine. Just a scrape. I've had worse."

"Aw, you poor baby."

Lockwood laughs weakly as she gently tugs at the skin near the cut, which at least seemed to be better than the previous night. When looks away she notices the pink tinge to the tips of his ears. She frowns at the slightly ajar window, closing it firmly. There still was a chill in the air from the frost that hadn't completely melted away yet.

True to his word, Lockwood comes home with a broken wrist a few days later. George is rather miffed and Lockwood insists that he's making it sound worse than it actually was, but that doesn't stop her from wincing when George claims he heard the snap of his bone from the floor below. Despite Lucy's insistence that he had survived much worse, she can't help but fret over him a little.

"I can pour my soup myself, you know."

"Yes, yes, you're a big strong man who needs no help. Now go sit down, I'll bring your toast." It might have been more convincing if she hadn't been absent-mindedly muttering, or even without the pat on his head, but he still took his seat at the table, not entirely unhappy. George had managed to wrestle him into his bed in the afternoon and his body finally succumbed to the beckoning of sleep, making him sleep through dinner. It was just the two of them in the kitchen, one anxiously watching the other sip their soup.

"Really, you didn't need to do this. It's no trouble on my wrist."

"Lockwood, the doctor said not to put any pressure on it. It is, by definition, trouble on your wrist."

He sighs, frowning at how she worries her bottom lip. "You're not...doing this out of guilt, or something, are you?"

She opens her mouth to deny it, to say how preposterous such a suggestion is, but her protests die on her lips. She takes a shaky breath.

"I was thinking about the days after...you know. How exhausted and lonely you must have been. How I didn't care enough to visit you more, to even cross that fence, unless it was to come running to you with my own silly problems."

"Y/N," he looks like he wants to smile but is trying not to for the benefit of the situation, and it rubs salt in her wound. "Of course you cared. You were just a kid, acting like kids do."

"I yelled at you about Noah when I was 16. 16."

"And I appreciated it. You gave me something more normal to be mad about. You made me feel like a teenager again." He reaches out and covers her hand with his uninjured one. "And I don't ever want you feeling like any of your problems is too tiny or insignificant to bother me with. I'm your neighbour, what else am I good for?"

She gives him a watery smile, feeling the tension that had been bunching around her temples all afternoon start to dissolve. He always knew just what to say, the ointment to every wound and scratch. He made it easier to live, easier to breathe.

"Wait, where's Lockwood?"

"Going down to Arif's."

"With a broken wrist?"

"He still has his left hand!" Lucy calls after her, but she's too busy scrambling for a pair of mittens and hurrying to the front door. Luckily, she catches him just as he's about to head out, and a smile cracks open on his face when he sees her.

"Everything alright?"

"You forgot your mittens."

He eyes the patterned woollens in her hands. "Y/N. I haven't worn mittens since I was...six, maybe."

"Obviously, since that's about how long they've been collecting dust in your old coat - which, by the way, is in no shape for the Salvation Army. You didn't set it on fire, did you?"

"Look, when it comes to fires, I may have an affinity for them but not necessa-"

"Fine. Just wear the mittens."

"I'll only be a minute! What's the worst that could happen?"

"Oh, yes, because a cold is exactly what you need on top of a snapped wrist and cut." She holds the mittens out expectantly, and he reluctantly takes them. They spend a few awkward minutes trying to figure out how to get them on without his cast getting in the way, and Lockwood nearly drops them when he gets startled by the brush of her fingertips on his palm, until she decisively puts them on his hands herself. When she looks up, his ears are tinged red again, as well as his nose.

"See, you're already getting cold. Are you sure I can't go to Arif's for you?"

They hear a scoff from behind, and turn to see George watching them. She looks at him questioningly but he ambles past her to the kitchen, muttering words under his breath she couldn't quite understand. Lockwood takes advantage of the pause in her fussing and steps out before she can continue protesting, but the sight of the mittens securely pulled over his fingers gives her some relief.

George turns his snigger into a poorly concealed cough.

"What now?"

"If you keep kissing his scrapes better, he'll throw himself off a cliff one of these days."

"George." Lucy admonishes him while she tries to settle the awkard swooping sensation in her chest.

"It's true and you know it."

Lucy nods awkwardly at her. "I mean...he's got a point."

When she thinks about it, it makes her feel funny in a way she can't deicide.

------------------------------------------------------------------------------

Later that evening, she's sitting on her porch, brooding, when Lockwood leans over the fence.

"Home so soon?"

"Thought I'd come here for some quiet thinking."

He nods affably, his flyaway hair gleaming in the setting sun. "You left your cards in the living room."

"Come on over," she says unexpectedly, possessed by a sudden desire to be close to him. It surprises her as much as him, but as she watches him walk out of his own gate, and strangely walk into her gate, the foreign sight reassures her with a distant sense of familiarity. She had been on so many crazy misadventures, but they all led her back to the same place: in his arms. Maybe the universe had grown hoarse from yelling at her to open her eyes to what was right in front of her.

He sits down next to her and hands her the cards. She looks at the quiet face of Anthony hiding inside the sallow face in front of hers, and marvels at how the same time that put her through hell as a child had somewhat healed his wounds. She puts them to the side and links her fingers in his, resting her head on his shoulder as their breath misted in the chill.

"Remember that summer at the yogurt shop?" She feels him relax against her as he hums in agreement. "You looked so fresh in your teal shirt."

"I wondered what you were doing, sitting under that tree all day. Was it really just to watch Noah all day?"

She shrugs. "Maybe. It was a weird sort of year. I had this restlessness in me...this desire to sit outside in the world and wait for things to start happening to me. For someone to find me and for my life to begin." She shifts, a ghost of a smile playing on her lips. "Speaking of Noah...did you know he got married last year?"

"Someone wanted to marry Noah Lewis?"

"You say things like that as if I wasn't ready to have his children just two years ago."

"To be fair, you weren't the brightest two years ago."

"Anyway, they're expecting a child. Him and his wife. I even sent him a baby shower gift."

"A gift? What, TNT?"

She laughs into his shoulder, and she can feel him metaphorically swelling with pride. And when she stops laughing, there is nothing to distract her from the dull ache in her heart, the string that tugged at it as it desperately reached for Lockwood's. Lockwood, who invigorated her spirit and quelled her anxieties, who was the balmy breeze on a warm summer evening, who smelt of a pleasantly sharp soap. She stumbled and fell a million times with all the wrong people in all the wrong places, but now she felt as though she were being reeled home by the invisible string that permanently and irrevocably tied her to him.

She looks up at the sky, a thousand different shades of blue, purple and pink. The temperature continues to drop, but with Lockwood's arm wrapped around her after a particularly vicious gust of wind, she feels warm enough. She murmurs into his neck and feels the hair at the back of his neck stand against her lips.

"Isn't it just so pretty to think...all along there was some invisible string," she inhales, "tying you...to…me."

[kerryweaverlesbian]

I want destiel with 13 or 22 (the prompts you reblogged)

Take it easy, with me please, touch me gently, like a summer evening breeze

"You know what this mix is called, Cas?" Dean murmers, pressing his forehead to the side of Castiel's and changing their sway to match the new rhythm.

They've been dancing alone in the kitchen, slow and close, for something like half an hour, and these are the first words either of them have spoken since Dean pulled Cas in. On one side their hands are tangled loosely together, and on the other their arms cross over at their waists, keeping them both pressed together, chest to chest.

"No," Cas says, playing along. They both knew the tape had already been in the stereo when Dean had reached out and pressed play. It wasn't one Cas recognised; all slow, a lot of crooning women.

"It's called, 'For Cas, if we win'. I made it while you were gone." Dean's breath warms the tip of Cas’s ear, and his meaning warms him everywhere else.

"Was there an 'if we lose'?"

Dean shifts his head back to look Cas in the eye. "No. I was never going to happen."

Andante, andante, just let the feeling grow.

Enchanted by the devotion in Dean's eyes, he's caught of guard by his sudden, amused smile. He understands when Dean sings along, sotto voce, "Touch my soul, you know how. Forgot that was coming."

"You've touched mine, now," Cas reminds him, "Or, the closest thing I have to one."

That's how he'd gotten out of the Empty, Dean cradling his Grace to his chest and then fighting his way back through miles of black, sucking sludge, beset by angels, demons and the Empty's own power as he went. The place had been a lot more active since the last time Cas had been stuck there, but no less bleak. There had only been a chance for Dean to finally choke out an, "I love you too, you fucking idiot," when they'd collapsed back out through the portal before he'd fallen asleep for 15 hours straight.

"Your hands were very gentle," Cas notes, and he can feel Dean's face heat as he moves them cheek to cheek, an endearing and unsuccessful attempt to hide his blush. "I felt very secure."

"I didn't want to drop you," Dean admits at a mumble, then complains, "You were freaking slippery, man."

"My apologies," Cas teases, and Dean knocks him with his hip in playful retaliation. "If it helps, you fought me all the way from Hell to your gravesite."

"Sounds like me," Dean says, with a prideful grin that Cas can hear in his voice.

I'm your music. I'm your song.

"Yes. Had I known then how you would change me, I might have held you even tigher."

"Or you might have let go, save yourself the trouble," Dean quips, but there's a fragility to it that has Cas stop the dance and take Dean's cheek in his palm, guiding him to look at him.

Play me time and time again, and make me strong.

"I wouldn't trade the life that we have built for anything. All the time that I have loved you has been-" Cas can't help the tears starting to catch at his voice - "Has been the best of my existence."

Dean's welling up along with him. Perhaps they will both cry every time he tells Dean he loves him. A very small price to pay, in comparison.

"Cas," Dean says in a rasp, and knocks their foreheads together gently. Two teardrops fall from Dean's eyes to Cas’s cheeks with the movement.

Andante, andante, tread lightly on my ground.

No matter who moved in for the kiss, they both lean into it, careful and soft and everything they haven't managed to be with each other until this point. The passion shared between them is palpable, even as the kiss remains relatively chaste. There's no finish line to run to, anymore. No Apocalypse to beat. They have the time to dance together, just as slowly as they please.

Andante, andante, oh please don't let me down.

[oneawkwardwriter]

Blast From The Past

pairing: Peter Parker x gn!reader warnings/tags: angst (it ends well), probably inaccuracies about time/events summary: the truth comes to light a/n: I'm a Peter Parker girlie at heart, so enjoy this very confusing post-nwh!fic wc: 1.1k

"What is this?"

Everything had been going flawlessly. For months now, you had been working on it. Planning out every little detail, making sure everything went according to plan.

You had been so close, feeling as if you could almost grasp onto the success of your hard work.

The process had been tedious, always having to hold back to make it all seem natural, going in against all your feelings to make sure you'd succeed.

It had taken you three months alone to track Peter down, and another month to study his routines before you could approach him.

When you realised that he didn't recognise you, you had to come up with a plan. It would've all worked out, if it weren't for that one picture.

That wretched picture you'd shoved deep into a closet, trying to forget about it and act as if it was never taken. That was the past, it didn't matter anymore now; it's not like anyone would remember it. It would only make things complicated, which was the last thing you needed.

The past few months had been the best of your life, even though you knew that none of it was real; not entirely at least. You knew that the truth would've come out at some point either way, but you'd hoped you could've told him about it at a more convenient time.

It was too late for that now. The cat was out of the bag, all cards were on the table. You knew it would hurt telling Peter the truth; was never going to be an easy and lighthearted task.

But the look of utter confusion and disbelief on his face would be etched into your memory forever.

"Y/n, what is this?" Peter asked once again, the desperation for an answer evident in his voice.

"Where did you find that?" You asked, still frozen to the ground as you stood in the doorway of your bedroom.

"I was putting those boxes away like you asked," He said, a hint of agitation seeping through, which you couldn't exactly blame him for. "And then this fell out."

"Look, I... I get that you're probably confused-"

"Oh, I'm confused, alright," Peter snapped as he interrupted, "I mean, who wouldn't be after seeing this? Nothing about this makes any sense."

"I know it doesn't," You say as you cautiously take a step closer to him, "but I can explain."

"Well, I'd love to hear that," Peter responded, "Please, explain to me how this picture is dated at least three years before we met."

The picture that had caused all of this mess showed the two of you at age seventeen, goofing around in the kitchen while you were attempting to bake cookies. Both your faces were covered in flour, as was most of the kitchen island, but it didn't seem to matter to either of you as you looked into each other's eyes with wide smiles plastered across your faces.

All in all, it was an innocent picture portraying a seemingly normal couple. But the truth was, that none of this could have ever happened, or at least, not according to Peter.

And who could possibly blame him? After everything that had happened, after losing the only family he had left, after having to let go of everyone he had ever known and loved; it wasn't his fault.

It wasn't his fault that while Doctor Strange was casting the spell, he had clung onto you for dear life, too afraid to lose you as well.

It wasn't his fault that he had been so determined that he would go and find you after the spell had been casted.

It wasn't his fault that anyone and everyone could see how much he loved you, how far he would go to ensure he'd never lose you.

It wasn't his fault that he would risk breaking the spell if it meant he didn't have to live a life without you in it.

It was never Peter's fault that he didn't remember; because he couldn't.

He couldn't remember anything about you before the spell. He couldn't remember how you had played a part in his life. He couldn't remember how he had begged Strange to leave your memories untouched.

And he certainly couldn't remember how Strange had gone behind his back and had altered the spell to make him forget about you instead, in the hopes of the spell remaining intact.

So who could blame him when he saw picture of a life he couldn't remember? When he saw a picture of a life he didn't think he'd ever lived?

When he saw a picture of a life he would never think he'd deserve?

"I wish I had an answer you could believe without a doubt," You said honestly, "But the truth is that this is what we had way before everything went haywire. Way before your identity got leaked, before the spell that went wrong, before the spell that should've gone right."

"Well, the fact that you seem to remember, or at least know about all of that is some sort of inclination that you're being genuine," Peter responded, "And I suppose it does explain why I felt like you had a familiar something about you."

You couldn't help but lightly smile at that. "Well, that's something, isn't it?"

"Yeah, it's something," He said, "But can I ask you one thing?"

"Of course."

"If you remembered, why didn't you go to Doctor Strange for answers."

"The same reason you didn't go to the MIT student counselor when your application was denied; I wanted to fix it myself."

This time, the both of you let out a light chuckle. "Alright, that is something I have no trouble believing," Peter said as he lightly shook his head. "So, say I did lose my memories, why did you come back? I mean, I wasn't the Peter you knew when we met again."

"I just figured it was still in there somewhere," You answered as you shrugged, "It might've been naive to think, but I guess I was just living for the hope of it all returning one day."

Peter's gaze fell back on the picture he was still holding onto. "We did look very happy there, didn't we?"

"Yeah, we did," You responded, your voice growing just a bit softer as you allowed yourself to think back for a moment. "The kiss we had after the picture was taken wasn't exactly great, though. The flour got everywhere and really got in the way."

"So, what you're saying is... I still owe you a kiss to make up for that bad one?" He said, taking a step closer to you with a hint of a smirk on his lips.

"You don't even know what you'd be making up for." You say, although you already leaned in closer as well.

"I might remember."

© This work belongs to @oneawkwardwriter, please do not copy this work to any other site or claim it as your own. Reblogs are allowed and appreciated!

Taglist: @unofficialxmarvelfreak

(to join the taglist, simply leave a comment or message me!)

[nishloves]

eternal; lee jihoon (svt)

(n.) never coming to an end; eternal

lee jihoon x f!reader

theme : fluff, angst, suggestive, comfort, dystopian, bittersweet. for septembercandyland!

warning : slightly suggestive, slightly obsessive, curse words

words : 2.5k approx.

synopsis : eternal, a word you used to describe your love for jihoon, your childhood crush, there wasn't a moment when you didn't yearn for him but, what happens when he goes off to his own Kingdom, buried under piles of work and then when you see him you couldn't find your jihoon back, was the vow of your everlasting love broken?

a/n : this was not what i had originally planned for the event [it was a full fic with over 15k words and it still exists in my wip] but, i felt like i couldn't complete it in time so i opted for a totally new oneshot, hope you like it!

unedited.

twirling under the moonlit path, you laughed, the blueberry vines intertwining on the railings beside you as you efficiently stepped on each stone pad, a giggle erupting from your chest as you pretended to fall over jihoon, your hands against his chest as he stumbled, a small chuckle erupting from him as his hands snaked around your waist, pulling you closer, murmuring, "steady y/n, wouldn't like it if you fall."

you were an enigma, a beautiful one at that, a candy which when placed on the tongue melts instantly, spreading its sweetness everywhere.

a pearl still buried under the oyster, waiting to be found.

"not even if i fall deeper for you?" you teased, tipsy on happiness as you leaned your forehead on his, your noses touching as you broke out in your widest grin.

"now if it's for me and my awesomeness, I would let you fall off a cliff and into my arms."

you giggled, your chest unfurling all the warmest colours you had ever known, crimson, autumn, turquoise— every beautiful colour spilling out of your heart as the words, i love you, stung at your lips, waiting to be spilled too.

"i don't want you to leave," you murmured, your eyes watering as you remembered that you had to part, you had to say a final goodbye to him after all these years, after everything you both had been through in the school.

from the news reporters rushing in to people trying to take you both apart; from little accidents to the fights with professors. from your worst days to your best days, jihoon had always been there for you. always.

"i don't want to leave you either," jihoon said as his lips grazed on your forehead, your eyes widening at the unknown gesture as you suck in a breath while jihoon smiled at you fondly.

"i will come back to you," he promised.

"i will only ever love you," he promised.

"i will wait for you, for eternity." he promised.

promises are meant to be broken right?

you remembered waving him off as he left for his kingdom while you buried yourself in piles of your books, busying yourself with works and excuses for researches. you couldn't stop, you feared that if you stop you will ultimately recognise your longing. your longing for a love which you yearned to be true, but miser you.

an economic catastrophe hit jihoon's kingdom when the tsunamis cleared out numerous ports of the kingdom, you read jihoon's letter with a heavy heart, reminding him that you will wait for him as he waits for you, reminding him that you love him and only love him eternally. that your heart only sings for him.

he promised. he promised. he promised. he promised.

your world came crashing down as you questioned the meaning of eternity, you cursed eros and cupids, you wondered if this was perdition for all your sinful deeds. you could understand him of course, he was a king; his country needed him! but for once you wished to be not understanding, to not be wise, to not be an adult like it was expected out of you.

you could hear your voice as you wailed, your heart thumping and breaking as your ears rang; you crumbled the wedding invitation that was passed on to you by your parents, your mother cursing you to be so naive but when she looked at your crestfallen face, she knew she wouldn't let you bleed.

"oh my poor child, i won't let any man hurt you ever again."

you never read jihoon's letter to you.

you were under the influence when you saw your ex-lover for the first time after years and your heart throbbed after reliving every memory of yours, you were eighteen and young and naive. he simply played you and you played him. it was all a mere infatuation, a young love which was bound to be broken, a spell which wore off after two years of partition.

jihoon wasn't married yet.

you vaguely remembered jihoon's pleas as he asked about those letters he had sent to you, as he begged you to listen to him, to not hate him.

"y/n, i-"

"no jihoon," you crumbled. "i yearned for you- for all those years and what did you give me? a wedding invitation?"

"y/n, listen to me-"

"you were the bane of my existence jihoon, your name was- is the one my soul and heart calls out for every single night; you're the one i had wholeheartedly accepted to be with- i loved you jihoon. i loved you with all my being, with all my power, with all my desperation. you were my light under those choking restrictions, under those duresses, under those pits of hell of responsibilities we've both had to endure. you were the reason i survived, jihoon." your voice cracked as you fell on jihoon, a blueberry musk enveloping you jihoon sobbed.

"it wasn't supposed to be like this."

you clutched him closer to you as you tried to soak all his warmth into you, as you tried to engrave how his body felt against yours in your mind. jihoon didn't let you go either, maybe trying to do the same.

you stepped back, "you're betrothed to someone else."

"please don't go," jihoon's voice broke as he stepped towards you, his hands in the air as he tried to grasp the fleeting shadow of yours, he wasn't courageous enough to hold you again.

"i need to go."

"run away with me; fuck this world. please come back to me."

your eyes widened as you took in the disheveled appearance of jihoon, his white-button up was unruly as his curls were sticking out of place, his eyes were red, bloodshot red. your lips quivered, "i- i can't do that 'hoon."

"why y/n?" you heard the crack of his voice again as you felt your heart shatter into pieces, "why? the world has always been cruel for us and-"

"who has the world been good for, jihoon?"'

he quietened.

"you're a king now; you have responsibilities," you saw the way the lampgrasses twirled around the pillar of balcony as the moon shone prettily in the dark sky, your eyes trained themselves on the glass doors of the balcony, where jihoon's dagger rested between the handles, denying access to your private spot.

you smiled as you realised the ball was full of your and his favorite flowers, your favorite sweet, your favorite songs were the ones playing as you pursed your lips and looked at jihoon again, admiring the way the moonlight glistened against his skin, almost making him glow. you felt lucky to have an angel like him as your past lover.

"your countrymen need you, more than me; we are bound to our positions jihoon," you smiled at him as you cupped his face.

"does she love you?"

"she despises me for not letting her marry the love of her life."

you chuckled as your lips connected with his forehead, "well, that makes the two of us." tears slipped past your eyes as you fervently wiped them, a sad smile on your face as you said,

"let's go back... before they suspect."

jihoon didn't want to.

jihoon didn't marry her.

you heart raced as you heard the news which your butler announced in the drawing room as you mother looked at you,

"did something happen between the two of you at the ball?"

you denied every question of hers as the butler secretly passed you a letter from jihoon, a king from the neighbouring kingdom.

"promises are aeonian."

your heart welled with unexplainable joy as you saw the reports of how jihoon had graciously accepted that his betrothed didn't love him and had given up his love for his ex to be happy; normally those reports might had made you boil but, you were happy. it didn't matter if the reports were right or wrong; or even condescending as the same reporters had mobbed you after school and crowned the laurel of epitome of young love on you both.

but, it didn't matter anymore, between jihoon's letter and the news, you were overjoyed.

your happiness didn't last long as you stopped receiving letters from jihoon, you had considered it was because he was over-exerting himself for the sake of his kingdom but you had received no reply, nothing from his end.

you could feel the cracks of your heart open up again over jihoon's lack of response for months.

but this time, you thought to step up.

you made a secret entry to his courthouse as jihoon's eyes caught yours, his voice caught up in his throat during the numerous sentences he had to prod out.

you vaguely remembered the panic in his steps as he pulled you towards his office, his guards straightening and looking at him with questioning glances as you merely grinned up at him.

"what are you doing here?"

"I missed you."

the loudest laugh escaped jihoon's lips as he looked at you with so much fondness that you felt as if your heart would melt, you remembered the way he sung for you during the school, you remembered the way he would snort whenever you tried to sing as a small smile stretched on your face too.

"you came here because you missed me?" he chortled as you smiled sheepishly.

"I genuinely missed you," you whispered as you lept towards him, your hands swirling around his waist as jihoon gazed at you, honey dripping from his eyes but soon his demeanor changed.

"why didn't you write to me?"

"sorry y/n."

"you better be."

"no y/n, i—" he slightly pushed you away from him as his hand grasped your shoulders, he looked at you so tenderly but with so much grief that your heart stopped for a second.

"I-i don't deserve you."

"what the hell do you mean?"

jihoon looked away from you, his lips quivered as his hands slid past your shoulders to your palms, his thumbs drawing circles on your knuckles as he did whenever he was stressed and apologetic.

"what the hell do you mean, lee jihoon."

"you- you have always been so great for me, you were the one who was able to turn my darkest days into something more bearable, every moment with you is something which I have come to cherish- y/n, I don't deserve you for all the hurt I have caused to you," he looked at your eyes— they had never been so empty.

"y/n, i—"

you shut him up.

you fervently kissed him, you kissed him with such a force as if you wanted to make sure that none of his baseless quips should slip past his lips, you kissed him with such fervour that jihoon had to grip his large desk to steady himself. you kissed him so passionately that when you pulled away, both of you were gasping for breath.

"y/n- you— what?"

"I love you, jihoon."

"I will love you to the moon and back, I will love you and only you till the end of eternity, so please shut your good for nothing mouth up and kiss me again."

he listened to you, he pulled your waist as he made you sit on his desk, swiping all his documents away as his hand found its place on your neck, pushing you deeper into the kiss while the other hand which stood possesively on your waist kept you in your place.

you buried your hands under his dark locks as slight whimper escaped your lips when jihoon resorted to leave gentle kisses on your neck, his hair tickling you as you giggled lightly. your heart ached for him, it ached for him so much that you had resorted to kissing your lover in your imagination, and reality was not disappointing.

"god, I love you so much."

"me or the god?"

"both, but you more."

you chuckled as your hand slipped on the page of one of jihoon's diary; your eyes widened as you looked at its pages,

"y/n. y/n. y/n. y/n. y/n. y/n. y/n. y/n. y/n.cy/n. y/n. y/n. y/n. y/n. y/n. y/n. y/n. y/n. y/n. y/n. y/n. y/n. y/n. y/n. y/n. y/n. y/n. y/n. y/n. y/n. y/n. y/n. y/n. y/n. y/n. y/n. y/n. y/n. y/n. y/n. y/n. y/n. y/n. y/n. y/n. y/n. y/n. y/n. y/n. y/n. y/n. y/n. y/n. y/n. y/n. y/n. y/n. y/n. y/n. y/n. y/n. y/n. y/n. y/n. y/n. y/n. y/n. y/n. y/n. y/n. y/n. y/n. y/n. y/n. y/n. y/n. y/n. y/n. y/n. y/n. y/n."

"jihoon!" you gasped, "what is all this?"

"I'm mad for you, your name was the only thing which kept me sane since the day I came here," jihoon replied honestly as he looked away from you.

"does this scare you?" he asked.

you sighed as you realised he was no better than you, the days you had spent on canvases were the days he spent on this, it was something shocking, but it wasn't scary, atleast for you. because you terrifyingly, loved him just as much.

"I am overwhelmed by my hold on you."

"i- i am sorry—"

"kiss me again to help make me normal again."

jihoon grinned as he yet again latched his lips with yours, you laughed heartily at his excitement as jihoon looked at you, his eyes earnest as he asked, "will you marry me?"

oh, how could you ever say no to that face?

and this time, you clearly remembered your wedding, from the procession to the consummation, everything. you remembered your pants as jihoon spelt out his love for you, you giggled as jihoon promised to build you a garden, all farmed by himself as a token for your aeonian love.

fin.

[i-just-like-goats]

Gojo x Female Reader

Summary: Gojo's soulmate is an assassin sent to kill him

Warnings: choking, attempted murder, mentions of death

WC: 1.4k

Part 2

A/N: this is my 4th time posting this and I am so sorry. The first 3 were because of tags, this one is just cos I noticed an inconsistency in the original but tumblr wouldn't let me save my edits😭

The first time Gojo met you, he was sure he was in love.

There you were buying kikufuku, with that soft smile of yours. You captivated him in a way that no other woman had. How could he not fall in love?

And when you turned to look at him gawking at you, you smiled so brightly that Gojo's heart was immediately touched.

"Hello. Sorry, was I in your way?"

"Not at all,"

You smiled so sweetly and held his arm so gently when he offered to walk you home. Fushiguro and the finger would have to wait. He was so infatuated with every action you did that he only narrowly missed the knife you swung at his chest.

"This usually how you greet the men that walk you home?"

"Only for you love,"

Perhaps it was unwise for him to develop feelings for you when you were trying to kill him. Yet the way you were holding your own against his attacks and your raw beauty had him debating which side he was on. Maybe not to that extent, but you were definitely confusing him.

Which reminded him he needed to get back to Fushiguro. He'd definitely be scolded by his student.

"As much as I'd love to continue seeing your beautiful face, I've got somewhere to be. See you!"

"Hey!"

The second time you met Gojo, he almost didn't recognise you. Your disguise was impeccable. Even people who had known you for years couldn't recognise you whenever you put this disguise on. Yet he somehow managed to call out to you in that cheerful voice.

"Hey! Fancy seeing you here!"

You grimaced at his loud voice. Must he draw attention to the both of you in this way? You forced a smile and poured him his glass of wine he had ordered.

"Your red wine sir." You smiled.

"Come on now. No need to be so formal with me. We're so-"

One waiter had tripped and knocked Gojo's elbow, causing his wine to spill over his front.

"I apologise for my incompetence sir! I accept any punishment you see fit!"

"It's quite alright. This jacket is dark, so the stain won't be visible and it was in need of a wash anyway,"

The waiter bowed deeply and continued apologising profusely while you groaned and glared daggers at your coworker. Your last batch of poison had been in that glass of wine. The next shipment of ingredients for your poison wouldn't be until next month. What a drag this mission was.

"Say, why don't we catch up once your shift is over? I'll wait for you,"

A perfect opportunity. You smiled again.

"Of course,"

Hours passed and true to his word, Gojo had remained sitting at his table until it was closing time. Your manager had him wait outside for you while the restaurant was cleaned, providing you with an opportunity to surprise him.

You leapt deftly onto Gojo's back, wrapped your arms around his neck.

"What a nice sur-"

And attempted to choke him. He struggled in your grip.

"How cute! What a beautiful couple! Would you mind if I took a photo of the two of you?"

You immediately stopped choking him. You ground your teeth but smiled nonetheless. Gojo took several deep breaths

"I don't mind, do you honey?"

"No, of course not love,"

"You might want to loosen up, your boyfriend there looked like he was struggling to breathe,"

"That was the point," You muttered.

Gojo chuckled and posed for the photo.

"Great! Thank you!"

With that, the person walked off content with the photo. You began to constrict his air supply again, but he flipped you onto the ground over his shoulder. With a groan, you sat up and rubbed your back.

"Was that necessary?"

"A bit of payback for the second attempt on my life,"

"Alright. Well I'll be off then,"

"Leaving already?"

"Can't have you knowing where I live, otherwise you'd annoy me every day,"

"I would never,"

Gojo watched as you threw something at the ground, then stepped through the mist it created and vanished.

"Always coming but never staying. How cruel. Soulmate. I don't even know your name,"

The third time Gojo met you, he knew he would risk it all for you. Whatever side you were on no longer mattered to him. Had you been on the side of the sorcerers, perhaps things would have been much easier.

"Soulmate! Are you hurt?"

"Oh no, I'm perfectly fine thank you. The curse bit me, which took a chunk out of my leg and it doesn't hurt at all. I'm enjoying the pain so very much you idiot,"

"Alright alright I get it. No need to be so moody soulmate,"

"Stop calling me your soulmate,"

"Why? Don't you know that the red string wrapped around our fingers means we're soulmates?"

"I know what soulmates are stupid,"

Gojo pouted, "Why aren't you calling me love anymore?"

"Because I'm no longer trying to seduce you. I just need to kill you,"

"So blunt. But you don't need to kill me since you've been fired,"

"What are you doing?"

Gojo made no answer and hovered his hand up and down your leg, assessing the damage.

"Hey this isn't funny. I didn't consent to this. Ow!"

You clenched your jaw tightly as a burning sensation erupted from where Gojo placed his hand on your leg.

"There. Wasn't so bad now was it soulmate?"

"I told you to stop calling me that,"

"I can't, unless I know your name,"

"I'm not giving it,"

"Well then sucks to be you, I'm still calling you soulmate because that's what you are,"

You muttered angrily under your breath and exhaled.

"I severely dislike you because I find you insufferable and I don't know how on earth we came to be soulmates, but thank you, for healing me,"

"How did you even get hurt?" He asked softly.

"I haven't been able to kill you. It's harming my reputation and my employer's reputation, so I guess they decided I wasn't worth keeping around anymore if I couldn't kill one man and they sent me on a suicide mission. I exorcised the curse's buddy but it's still out there,"

"Why don't you and I hunt the curse down?"

"Sure, not like I have really much else to lose anyway,"

Needless to say, you got your revenge on the curse and its owner. By the end of it, both had been in tears before you exorcised the curse and turned in its owner.

"Good thinking there. You kept us out of trouble by letting him hit you first,"

"I'm an assassin Gojo, it's only natural that I know how to get myself out of situations,"

"Right. So, want to continue our date?"

"No,"

"Come on. I'm no longer the enemy am I?"

"I may no longer be required to kill you, but like I said before: I severely dislike you,"

"Bit harsh," Gojo ran to catch up with your walking figure, "At least let me feed you tonight and make sure you've got a job,"

"Fine,"

"Great!"

You slumped into the seat across from Gojo and plugged in your earphones as Gojo ordered something for the two of you to eat.

"So why do you hate me?"

"I don't hate you. I just said severely dislike,"

"Alright, so why do you severely dislike me?"

"Because you're hard to kill,"

"Is that it? Shouldn't be too hard to get you to like me. You lost your job because of me, so all I need to do is get you a new job. How would you like to teach at Jujutsu Tech. I saw your physical capabilities, such little cursed energy but your fighting is remarkable. The students, Maki in particular, would benefit greatly from your expertise,"

"And you still try to help and befriend me even after I tried to kill you. Twice. You're not mad? Not even in the slightest?"

"A bit annoyed, definitely, but the determination wins,"

You took a sip from your drink, deep in thought. How could he be so kind to you after all you put him through?

"Determination to do what?"

"To at least get a friend out of this,"

He lifted his right hand, gesturing to his pinky.

"We're soulmates for a reason, we're not destined to hate each other, so I want to see if we can make this work, but baby steps. So please consider taking the job,"

"Alright, I'll teach the young sorcerers at Jujutsu Tech. Just know that I'm only doing this because I need to financially sustain myself somehow,"

"Excellent!"

Gojo shook your hand enthusiastically.

"Can't wait to teach alongside my new co-worker!"

You buried your face into your hands and groaned. There's no way he'd let you back out now that you agreed. This year would be an interesting one that's for sure.

[hope-you-brought-kneepads-bitch]

I could teach you things Pt 5

Summary: You said you don't drink much.....anyway turns out you're a totally different person! Especially when the ladies slip something to you, just to make you more compliant of course, they just want you to be their princess, nothing wrong with that, right?

Warnings: 18+ only Minors DNI Failed drugging because of Kate's interruption, but nothing horrible, Wanda just wanted her girl to be lucid for her, who wouldn't want that?

Words: 1,500

A/N: Not proofread because reading my own work back makes me sick. Enjoy! :D

"How's our pretty girl enjoying the party?" Wanda kissed up your neck swaying her body with yours as you let yourself enjoy the music coursing through your body

"Answer your mommy pretty girl" Nat appeared in front of you holding three drinks, made easy with her long fingers "yessss I'm enjoying the party" You reached to take the drink but Nat took it away "Ah ah my love I think you've had enough don't you?"

"But Natttt!"

You felt Wanda dig her nails into your side "You know that's not her name princess"

You winced at the slight pain but corrected yourself looking at Nat "Sorry Daddy, please can I have a drink?"

The older woman nodded handing you a fruity-looking drink you didn't recognise but didn't question "Thank youuu" You took the drink and gulped it down making the two women smile "Come on detka let's sit down"

Wanda pulled you into a dark booth in the corner of the huge club sitting you on her lap with Nat following close behind sitting next to you "I thought you said you weren't a drinker?" Wanda joked and you shrugged "I-I like…I lied" you hiccuped giggling and tried kissing Wanda's neck

"Your neck is sweaty" you giggled again

"It's because I have to keep running after you little one, you're quicker than Nat and I, you know you can't run off from us"

You rolled your eyes "I can do anything I want I'm not a baby, I'm a grown woman" You pulled away from the woman standing from Wanda's lap and saying something about going to the bar.

Nat sighed sitting next to Wanda properly and kissing her softly "Did you put it in?" Wanda asked and Nat giggled "Pretty sure you've said that to me before in bed"

Wanda pushed Nat away a little "You're a dick, did you do it or not?" Nat nodded "Yep! She should be sleepy right about now with how quickly she drank that"

Just as she finished speaking Wanda looked into the crowd and saw you leaning against the wall looking dizzy "hm seems like it's working, a grown woman huh? We'll see about that"

You thought it was funny walking away from the women but now you felt off, the room started swaying and your eyes felt heavy, what happened? And why did you suddenly feel helpless without Wanda and Nat

You felt arms wrap around your waist from the side and looked to the side seeing Wanda "Hey little girl do you feel fuzzy?"

You nodded letting yourself fall into her body and you felt Nat slide behind you helping to hold you upright "Are you sure you're a grown woman? It seems like you're a baby right now, aren't you? You need your mommy and daddy to take care of you?"

They weren't questions, not really and you knew that but all you could do was continue to sway in their hold "I think it's time to go home yeah?"

You mumbled a yes and the women smiled leading you out of the club, the cold air hit you making you stop and run to a bin and throw up in it, Wanda coming over and rubbing a soothing hand up and down your back "Oh honey you really can't handle your alcohol can you? It's okay we'll get you home to a nice hot bath with some cute ducks, would you like the ducks?"

Even though you didn't answer Wanda knew you'd love the ducks, like every good girl does

"Y/n?!" A voice echoed and you managed to pull your head up seeing your friend Kate coming over in a blurry haze

"Hey Kate," you said wiping your hand across your mouth and still holding onto Wanda "Dude you look fucking terrible, you never drink that much"

"She's fine Miss Bishop," Nat said sternly and the young girl looked between her and Wanda "Aren't you two too old to be out partying?" She laughed but they weren't laughing

"Actually Miss Bishop we're all here together," Wanda said while looking over you making sure you were still okay

Kate gasped "Oh my god! Dude did you bag yourself two MILFs?! Hell yeah! Are you their sugar baby? Damn I wish I had a hot milf to hold my hair while I threw up"

You knew Kate was probably saying something ridiculous but you couldn't care when you felt like your insides were at war with each other, all you wanted to do was lay down and you needed Wanda to take you home

"…Mommy please can we go…" you whispered but it was loud enough for Kate to hear and start laughing

"Mommy? Wow you are so whipped, I need to tell Peter" Pulling her phone out she went to call Peter but Nat quickly snatched the phone out of her hand "Hey Nat come on, Yelena wouldn't care, be cool like your sister"

The Russian threw the phone to the ground and stood on it breaking it

"Nat what the hell?!"

"I think it's time to go, Kate, now" The girl left in a huff and Nat turned to you and Wanda "Time to go home my loves"

The drive back to the house was quiet, you were asleep in Wanda's arms and Nat was driving "Are you okay Nat?"

She sighed "Sure, just Yelena is going to be pissed at me when Kate tells her I broke her phone, how's Y/n?"

Wanda looked down at you and kissed your forehead "She's okay, still a little fuzzy, she's a pretty girl like this"

Nat glanced in the rearview mirror at you two and smiled "A lot of room back there?"

Wanda raised an eyebrow "Sure?"

"Maybe she needs to be even more relaxed?" Nat winked but Wanda just shook her head "Our first time together will be special, not in the back of the car Natalia"

Nat groaned "But the car is clean! And what's more special than a Tesla?"

You stirred in Wanda's hold curling into her "Behave Nat"

"I'm not a dog Wanda" she retorted

"Really? Then why do you wear the collar I got you? For fashion?" Wanda kissed your head smirking at Nat's blushed face "Okay whatever" she went back to driving in silence

When they arrived at Wanda's house Nat helped her carry you out of the car and into the house into the bedroom "Oh princess you're so cute" Wanda whispered laying you down

"Well, that didn't work out very well did it?" Nat joked and Wanda lightly smacked her arm "I didn't think our girl liked the special treat in her drink, plus Miss Bishop didn't help"

Nat agreed "It'll be okay Wands, well, what do we do now?"

"Let her sleep, she's had a long night of drinking"

Nat chuckled "Yeah sure, just drinking, I don't think we can drug her like the last one"

"Don't make it sound so sinister Natalia the last girl just needed to be kept lucid, a shame her family took her away from us" Wanda kissed you on the cheek when you stirred in her hold "Shh honey you're okay Mommy and daddy are here, let's get you into bed"

You woke up a little in Wanda's hold hearing them talking in Russian, you think it was Russian anyway, but you chose to forget it and close your eyes again when you felt the soft bed underneath you drifting quickly back off to a deep sleep, you'd try and figure out what happened in the morning

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

"Are you sure? Maybe you just imagined it?" Kate was pacing back and forth in her shared apartment with Peter reminiscing about the night's events

"No she was definitely drugged, I've never seen her act like that when she's been drunk, and trust me I've seen her absolutely smashed out of her mind!"

"But why would Miss Maximoff and Miss Romanoff drug her, they don't seem the type, Miss Maximoff did slap me on the back of the head once but that was because I took a cookie from the plate she had for the church picnic"

Kate stopped in her tracks to look at Peter questionably "You took a cookie? You know if you waited like an hour you could've taken more at the picnic"

He shrugged "Yeah I know but I didn't want to listen to boring church talks"

"Fair enough" Kate agreed "but back to Y/n, I'm just worried about her, I hope I am being paranoid"

"Maybe call her mom? She's gotta know what's going on" Peter suggested and Kate shrugged "She and Mom aren't that close I doubt she knows, I'll call Yelena later"

"Ooooh calling your girlfriend?" Peter teased laughing when Kate threw a cushion at him "My very best friend I'll have you know, the only one who actually listens to me and isn't a dick" She smirked when Peter faked a gasped

"You hurt me, Katie"

"Good"

They both laughed momentarily forgetting if you were actually in trouble with the older women, they'd help you tomorrow.

[love-hatred-stuff]

》 alright so here is another short snippet of the story I asked your opinions about, I'm currently working on it but I don't have too much freetime right now so there will probably be more short parts to this

》 also, if you have any suggestions on what I should call this series (a title) let me know;)

》 enjoy, love you♡

◆◇◇◇◇◇◇◇◇◇◇◇◇◇◇◇◇◇◇◇◇◇◇◇◇◇◇◇◇◆

It was another casual day at your college. But you were so glad it was now weekend and your classes were over for now. You still planned on going to the library for an hour or so, so you could study before you'd go on a house party with Steve's team (which unfortunately included Bucky aswell) and your girlfriends. You didn’t particularly liked frat partys but your friends were there and it wasn't like you had anything better to do.

So after taking a shower you made your way to the college's library. At this hour it was always rather empty so there were only a few people between the aisles that you could make out from afar. You didn't make an effort to squint your eyes and look who you might know though. That was your mistake because if you would've had a bit more time to prepare for bucky who just so seemed to approach you as soon as you've found a place to sit down.

When you saw him mere feet away from you, you fought the urge to roll your eyes immediately. He always bothered you when you two met alone outside of the group. Not that that happened often but you just weren't interested in anything he might have to say.

You knew that you were probably overreacting and should be nicer to him when he tried to keep a conversation going because he was clearly eager to have you as one of his friends, just like all the other girls. But you just didn't feel like he'd earned that yet.

The moment he stopped right infront of you he was holding a book and you recognised it, but still didn't feel like talking to him.

"Hey, nice to see you here." He seemed nervous, like he always did when he tried to engage with you. You didn't pay it much mind though, you thought it was part of his charm to try and make the impression like he was just shy athlete or something, rather than the selfish immature little boy that he actually was.

"Well." You replied unimpressed and continued to do your work. You didn't even bat an eye. Again, why would you?

"I'm sorry, I don't wanna disturb you any further. Are you coming to the party tonight?" Bucky asked sheepishly.

If anyone that knew him in even the slightest, they would question if that reallh was him talking to you right now or if it was just someone else, who looked like him. Because he was mf Bucky Barnes and that man didn't talk to women like that. Not even the considered pretty ones would make him all flustered and act like a clueless little puppy in front of them, unless...

Unless it was you, apparently. It was the way that he knew, you weren't just playing hard to get, you actually did not want to have anything to do with him. To his luck, you had a lot to do with him through your friendgroups colliding one day. Nevertheless you still avoided him every chance you got. He knows, since he's tried to interact with you countless times. Unsuccessful, you should say.

"Yes. Yes I am. Can I continue studying now or..?" The first moment you actually looked up at him since he stood there and Bucky was so taken aback by the sudden eye contact. You usually never granted him that, so he almost stumbled back and fell over. He somehow managed to catch himself in time.

"Yeah, yeah... see you later then, I guess." He attempted a smile that wouldn't show how hard he was blushing right now.

You could see, he failed. And because you felt like showing a tiny bit of mercy, you gave him a small and short smile in return, before looking back at your papers. You heard how he slowly walked out of the library, acting like it would be totally normal and routine for you two to have a conversation like that every now and then.

•••

Since a few people wanted to be tagged and were curious about what would happen next I made a taglist^^:

@vicmc624 @nefri-black @chemtrails-club @magnificentsvn @lesleurs

Thank you for your kind feedbacks everyone!!

Love,

love-hatred-stuff

[strrvnge]

Reflections || Prologue

Pairing : Stephen Strange x Reader

Summery : after the blip Stephen has to face one more enemy; his feelings for you

Warnings : idiots in love, Stephen being in denial about his feelings, blip trauma, fluff that will potentially turn into angst (you know me)

So this is the prologue of this idea based on this ask that instead of a one-shot I decided to make into a series. This part is written from Stephen's point of view.

Stephen Strange had been many things in his life. An excellent example of a student according to his professors, one of the most well acclaimed neurosurgeons the world has ever known,a cocky asshole according to his coworkers, a womanizer according to all of his ex (heartless dick was the term used more often)But what he did not expect to be was a hero.

Stephen Strange was a universal hero, saving not only half of earth's but the universe's population. Now little children drew pictures of him, dressed up like him for halloween, people asked for photos and autographs they even made pages dedicated to him on social media. He was known, loved, admired, recognised by millions and if you excluded the blip his life was a dream. For a man like him who sought perfection in each ascept, in every little detail of his life, it all was a dream, his world was some short of utopia.

And then you came into the picture. You, you, lovely you who just had to turn his world upside down.

Don't get him wrong, he didn't hate you. How could he (that didn't mean he hadn't tried in the past). But how you made him feel was just enough to destroy everything. Well who is he kidding?

The truth was that he hated it. Everything that revolved or had anything to do with you he simply hated it. How his stomach twisted every time he smelled your perfume, that painful feeling of anticipation when he was to see you, how his palms get sweaty when you were around,how he smiled with the mere thought of you, how his heart beated uncontrollable when he talked with you at the point of paining him so much he just wanted to rip it out of his chest.

No, he hated it with all his heart. Utterly and completely. Perfection was about control and the way those feelings struck him was everything against it. There was no control in falling in love, how the heart suddenly got a mind of its own, how it defied logic, how it made him act like a seven year old stuttering and tripping over his words

(but it made you laugh. Humiliating but perhaps worth it)

To his eyes Stephen was nothing great but escpecially when it came to the matters of his heart he was also a coward.

"Good morning" he snapped himself out of his thoughts entering the kitchen where you had already woken up early and made tea.

"Oh hi" you beamed him a smile and he violently bit down his tongue to hold himself from smiling back. "Want some tea?" Stephen hummed, unable to talk, eyeing you quietly up and down however your every careful and precise move as you made him his tea (as always choosing his favorite cup, adding the perfect amount of honey just like he liked it).

You had known him many years (not so many without the blip but still), living with him in the Sanctum his apprentice he liked to call you thought you were practicing the mystic arts a long time before he did. You weren't friends, he wouldn't use that word. You were patient and understanding with him at the first period of his studies but after becoming Sorcerer Supreme for some reasons you still kept your distance.

Only for everything to chance with the blip. After coming back everything was different alongside you too, no matter how much you both tried to cling onto who you used to be. Things had changed because of the desperate need to connect with something somewhat stable he could perhaps call you now a friend.

"Did you sleep well?" He asked

"Yeah, you?"

He knew you were lying. There was a very specific type of uncomfortness clouded over the futures of your face each time you lied, an easy to spot uneasiness he had come to easily recognise after times of observing your beautiful face. He couldn't really blame you though. After five years being blipped he too avoided closing his eyes, afraid he'd be dragged back into that cold darkness.

"Yes" he said, his hands reaching for the cup you held to him, your hands accidentally brushing against each other for a mere moment enough however to memorize that softness of your touch.

"Thank you Y/N" finally he said and only now you met his gaze.

He could say your name a million times, repeat it for an eternity and never get bored of its godly sound.

Every morning it was the same dream, the same nightmare. You in the kitchen making his tea so beautiful, so lovely,warm, so oblivious of the caos you caused inside of him, so close to him you were almost his. Until he said your name and brought himself back to reality. And just like that you felt cold, distant , putting him so far from you in the most cruel way keeping him away. You stood so close to him yet you weren't his, perhaps you'd never be.

His heart once again beated faster than he could catch on while his thoughts tripped over one another, all the things he wanted to tell you, all the things he couldn't say becoming a mess as he starred into your eyes. Before finally saying in a surprisingly calm and steady voice "You know you can wake me up and you can't sleep right?"

"Am I interrupting something?" Suddenly Wong walked in, uncomfortably standing in the middle of the kitchen looking at you two as with his entress you immediately broke eye contact, one of you staring at the floor while the other at the ceiling.

"No. I was just gonna check those books you asked me to" you quickly said, leaving your cup on the counter before hastily walking away from them.

Wong observed as Stephen's eyes drafted on your back followed your figure till you completely got out of the room, like a sad puppy staring at its owner leaving them at home and leaving. He fakely coughed trying to get his friends attention back to him.

"What?"

"You're such an idiot"

[lalalenii]

For the past year and a half, I really struggled taking care of myself, especially when it came to cooking. I used to live with an elderly roommate who unfortunately was hospiced due to her COPD about two years ago and died shortly after. I lived with her for over five years, and from the beginning, we had a very close relationship that felt more like family than anything. I cooked almost every night. After coming home from work, I used the time in the kitchen to unwind, I loved trying out new recipes and navigating my vegetarianism and her weirdly specific food preferences. I liked the physical work of it and the act of service it let me provide, especially during covid and when she kept getting sicker.

After she died, and I moved to my own place I stopped cooking. It was probably for a multitude of reasons. Grief I didn't recognise as such, my relationship hanging on a thread and all the energy it took from me. Me having to navigate living on my own for the first time, navigating a household on top of my 40hr week + 5ish hours for my side job, but sadly probably also that I tend to feel more motivation when I perform tasks for anyone other than myself. Even though I knew that I enjoyed cooking, I just rarely did it. Instant noodles and ready meals, ordering takeout... it just all felt so much easier. I was also away from home a lot so buying groceries would often result in them going bad.

So for the past 1.5 years, I frequented the pretzel stand at my local train station a lot. I got breakfast and/or lunch there multiple times a week. So often, that the people working the stand would recognise me. There was this elder Turkish woman, who had a really kind face and was always nice, even though she probably gets paid jack and has to get up at 5 or something. But seeing her always kind of made my day. I always walked away with a smile, feeling a little bit better about everything. She was so unpretentiously optimistic, a hard worker and as far as I could tell always nice to her colleagues. She always greeted me and wished me a nice day. Until one day, she told me that tomorrow would be her last day.

I was really touched that she considered to let me know. Let me know that she wouldn't be part of my routine anymore, despite us never exchanging more words than "one spiced pretzel please" "that would be 1.50" "with card please" "thank you have a nice day" "you too!"

I hadn't actually planned to go get pretzels again the next day, but I just had to, and I also took the opportunity to tell her how much her kindness meant to me. That I saw her kindness and that I appreciated it and that her smiles made my day better.

That was that. The following week she was gone and I went about my life, buying pretzels, struggling through my job and my relationship. I saw her every once in a while helping out at the stand – I was so elated every time and even if I didn't buy pretzels I made sure to at least wave at her in passing.

Months later, things changed. I gathered the courage to quit my job, to uproot my life. It was a risk but it paid off. My commute changed. From one hour to 25 minutes – what a luxury. My commute also now runs in a completely different direction. I take the underground to the town over and then get onto the bus. The added free time from the shortened commute is such a relief and while at least I manage to pack lunch every day now I'm still not very settled in, so I hit up the local bakery for some breakfast. I always get the same thing and after the salesperson stopped asking whether she can snap the cheese pastry in half to make it fit into the bag when I came in for the fourth time this week I decided I needed to change it up. I didn't want to become the cheese pastry girl. So on Friday, instead of the bakery I went to the local pretzel shop. I didn't even think about it too much. It's really the only other option near the station I switch to the bus. I was in a hurry to catch the bus, hoping that the woman and her child before me wouldn't also go into the shop, because if I missed the bus I'd have to walk and I'd be later than intended.

So I walked in. And what happened next honestly felt like the most stupid and clichéd movie scene. I did an actual double take. Because there behind the counter was my lovely, elder Turkish pretzel sales woman. I didn't even consider she just switched to another shop, I assumed she retired or did something out and only helped at the other stand occasionally to cover shifts or help out during rushes. But there she was, in all her glory. And when she saw me, we both laughed. It felt so ridiculous. We have no connection besides her selling me pretzels but the familiarity she brings into my life and into my morning routine was such a comfort. I don't know how she sees me, if she has a lot of customers like me but I do know she recognises me.

"I work in the neighbourhood now" I said as I stop laughing and she bags my regular order. "I'm stationed here now" she says and I tell her I'm happy to see her. I genuinely mean it.

"See you on Monday then," she says cheekily and although I was planning to cut the habit of getting breakfast at the bakery I make a promise to myself to stop by at least once a week. For the god-awful addicting spiced pretzel and for the kind woman who makes my day brighter without even meaning to.

[undercoverpena]

Hey there, I truly admire your openness about your anxiety, and I was wondering if you could offer any tips or techniques that have helped you, especially in the context of being active on this platform. Love your work!

tw: anxiety

hi anon! thank you so much, that's really nice of you. i deffo think i could be more open about it, but it's nice that I've been able to be open enough for you to reach out. i'm sorry it took me a day or two to get back to you, i just wanted to make sure i thought up/over things so i was being as helpful as possible! it's important for me to stress that my situation and my anxiety isn't going to be like everyone else's, and how i cope with it isn't like the "go to". but here are some things that help me (i am not claiming that any of these i came up):

creating a rainy day folder: bad days are a thing for everyone, but i know what things put me in a "stormier" frame of mind, and what i'm critical about. so, when things make me smile (comments, nice reblogs, tags, inbox, dms) i screenshot them and pop them in this folder. and when i need an extra boost (or some proof to fire back at my brain that it's wrong) i spend a bit of time in there. as it's me, it's highly organised HA! but, it deffo helps having the folder, and its reminded me, at times, why i love what i do here.

celebrate with cake: i'm a high-functioning person, who has super low self-esteem. for a good portion of my life (an embarrassingly large portion, honestly) good accomplishments were not celebrated. so, now i make a point to celebrate certain things with food (or books, if I'm reading a lot). one thing I've learnt with my anxiety is that it's easy to get into a cycle, and one way of breaking this is to stop and take the time to realise the milestones I've accomplished or how far I've come. just the other day, i took a walk to the shop and grabbed myself a chocolate bar. a year ago, i wouldn't have felt comfortable doing that by myself. and it's important to recognise those achievements when you've had a hard time. i also recommend everyone gets themselves cake when they finish a series (it's the rules, i swear).

learn about yourself: i'm going to be brutally honest and hope this doesn't bite me on the arse, but there are a lot of times i don't really like myself? i don't see the value i offer, i feel like i let people down, etc etc. it used to be worse, and one of the ways that helped me go from every day i didn't like myself to occasionally disliked myself, is by educating myself on me. I've spent a lot of time making myself small to fit in, I've done things others are into so i fit in to the point i wasn't sure who i was. so, when i had a menty-b (the name i call it), i sat with myself and learnt what i liked. music. movies. clothing. passions. hobbies. i have always written, but i wasn't necessarily writing things i loved. so, i changed it. i dated myself (a term lots of people use). i told my husband i was going to spend Friday nights with myself, and i did something i wanted to do. on my own. and in time, that helped with my anxious feelings and my fears about being online. because i spend a lot of time worrying about what people think, but by dating myself i could learn nice things about me - and that way, had things i could tell myself i knew were true: that i'm actually very nice, kind and really funny. it might not making pressing 'post" easier, but i can hold my chin a little higher?

set yourself a goal of happiness: we're all motivated by different things. sometimes, we make a mental goal to ourselves and it becomes blurred and distorted in numbers. but, if your anxiety (like mine) likes to have a thing to measure itself against, choose something that isn't numbers based, but happiness based. did someone tell you this month that your writing/art/gifs made their day? did something you say make them feel better? it's hard, it really is, and i know there will be people reading this and scoffing, but truthfully, one person telling me something i wrote made their day is all a jo really fucking wants. because i'm going to write regardless, it's a choice i make to share it. so, while i gave examples above, that isn't my current goal, but it was a goal i had, and as long as i try to remind myself of that it helps.

which leads me into, try to stay away from the numbers game which i know is hard. but it does nothing for an anxious mind. like, it's a fickle thing. moods change. don't base your worth on a number, you matter far more than it.

accept it's a part of you: this one is more about me, but since you're asking me i thought this is probably allowed. i have a long-term anxiety disorder - which took a long time to get diagnosed - and i have some other little... things that come with that. and for a long time, i felt broken. but, i was reading a self-help book (because your girl loves reading books about brains) and i realised that i have anxiety. it is already part of me. so i need to work with it. anxiety isn\t nice, it's not kind and it's really annoying. but it also makes me empathetic, it makes me care about the work i do (both here and in my day to day life), or makes me compassionate. whether you have it short term or long term, sometimes it's better to accept it's there, acknowledge it, but DON'T FEED IT. have the worries, and then halt them, tell them no. I've found fighting it before I've got the strength doesn't help me. but, waking up, knowing it's there, nodding at it helps keep it in check. this might not make any sense, but, you know.

and finally, the one i'm still working on is: i cannot fix everything and this is fun, so i need to ensure it stays that way for me. which i know isn't really a tip. but it's a good thing to remember. i am one person, it is not on me to check on every single person. it isn't on me to read every single thing. i don't have to engage with things i don't agree with, i don't have to say all my opinions. i can change fandoms. i can not post for a day/week/month. and all i have to do, if i want to, is offer my absolute best. that's it. it's hard. and it's tough to swallow. but sometimes, a jo just needs to be jo.

i am not sure if my rambling has been helpful, but i thought i could list these: plot your fic, find a buddy to talk about things with, surround yourself with good people. but I've said all of these. but the above are things i can do by myself. they are things i can control. and with anxiety, we're all just looking for the things we can manage, and so i based the list in that way. thank you for coming to my jo-talk, i'm going to go hide from being so vulnerable.

[pilgrimagesource]

"If love had come to me, I wouldn't recognise it. Now every time you smile, it's a little priceless. No story I could weave would have ended like this." - One Life, Dermot Kennedy

[lokisprettygirl]

Dead to me (Loki x Female reader) (Heavy angst)

Summary : Loki is gone. You are living by his memories, and for the moments when you get to feel him around you.

Warning: Angst, Death, Major character death, Grieving

Note : Had a dream last night and had to write it down

He never had a chance, the car swirled off the road and it all happened so fast you didn't have time to even blink. He was gone, far away from you and it was your fault. It was all your fault that you distracted him, if it wasn't for you wincing because you got a stupid cramp he wouldn't have looked your way, he wouldn't have lost his focus, he wouldn't have missed the truck coming straight towards you both. You'd still have him in your life.

But he is gone now and you'll never be able to hold him, touch him or kiss him. You will never get to wake up with him, or sleep in his arms, you'd never hear him laugh or giggle or dance your worries out in the living room. He was gone. Your husband was dead. You don't even remember how you got out of that horrible accident, you didn't understand why you were still here when he wasn't with you, you don't even remember the funeral, the grief was too much to bear, it was as if you didn't even attend it.

You wandered around the house you two shared aimlessly, your day consisted of just wanting to get a glimpse of him and sometimes you did. Was it a ghost? You didn't know but he comforted you with his presence, you often heard him crying at night too, you would recognise his cries anywhere. That didn't scare you , it only made you want to jump into his arms and comfort him.

But he was gone, far away from you and had no hope of returning this time. Was his soul restless? Did he not make it to heaven? The thought broke you because you wanted him to be at peace finally. He deserved to be there and you wanted to join him whenever death would come for you as well. That was the only thing keeping you here in this house, a promise of a lifetime that he made to you, you knew you'd see him someday in heaven. Get your Happy forever.

You woke up every morning only to stay stayed cooped up in your house, the walls held all of his memories, it had pictures of your time with him and also the imprints of the nights he made love while he held you against it. That life was everything you have ever craved for then why did fate take him away so cruelly? Why were you alone again? Why wasn't he listening to you anymore?.

Sometimes you looked at him sitting on your bed, he'd hold the frame that had your wedding picture and just cry. He'd just cry and cry, the sound managed to break you. It was impossible to escape him in that house, he was everywhere but then you could never touch him. Everytime you tried he'd look around as if he didn't even want to touch you, did he blame you as well? And then he left. You didn't feel him around you anymore and the thought killed you. You can't lose him completely.

"Lokii I'm here baby, please give me a sign that you can hear me" you mumbled to yourself as you sat down on the couch in your bedroom, holding the soft toy that he gave you. Tears didn't stop coming but of course you didn't hear from him, you only heard him at nights or whenever he wanted you to hear him. Life felt as if you were just barely keeping yourself afloat. You didn't even remember the last time you ate, you were skipping meals and you knew how he abhorred it but you couldn't do it.

You didn't remember when you woke up or at what time you went to sleep, you haven't talked to anyone since Loki died and you didn't know if they were giving you your space or they just didn't care about your existence anymore. You needed friends but they never came to see you and you never wanted to leave the house because you were afraid you'd miss him showing up like he does at the most random of times.

You heard the door opening and saw Thor entering, you looked at him and smiled but he ignored it.

"I know you are upset with me, it was my fault but–" you mumbled desperately but he walked past you, he didn't even look at you, he didn't want to look at the person that killed his brother. You didn't blame him but it still hurt, you and Thor used to be the best of friends, it was only because of him you built the courage to ask Loki out because like Thor said his brother was a fool when it comes to matters of the heart. Your best friend didn't even want to look at you anymore.

You followed him to the bedroom as he packed his brother's belongings in a bag and stormed out.

"Thor Thor, please talk to me I'm sorry I really am sorry" you cried as you collapsed on your knees, Thor looked behind and his eyes were teary, he looked as if he wanted to say something but then he quickly stormed out again.

Weeks passed and on the night of your fifth anniversary you somehow managed to get yourself dressed up, you didn't feel Loki around you anymore but you knew today he'll come to you. He had to, you both had so many plans for this anniversary, you both were ready to make a family, bring a baby. That wasn't possible now but you still wanted to have him around you.

At night you could finally smell his cologne in the living room, so you stepped out of the bedroom. He was sitting on the couch, holding the wedding band and crying again.

"Lokii" your eyes welled up as he broke down.

"I'm sorry I didn't save you darling, I'm sorry I failed you like this, I'm sorry I'm the reason you are gone, I miss you, come back to me I love you. I can't go on and live this life without you my sweetheart" he weeped and sobbed so you stood in front of him.

He looked around as if he was in shock, as if he could finally feel you, that's when you realised that it wasn't him who died that night. It was you and everything made sense.

It finally made sense.

[the-fiction-witch]

Christmas Train

Media Nanny Mcphee

Character Simon Brown (Age Up)

Couple Simon X Reader

Rating Sweet

Fictional Advent Day Four

I picked up my suitcases and took a step back from the platform as the train rushed into the station, steam filling the sky as it flooded from the train. The sky was grey and heavy likely looking as if it soon would rain down heavily. As soon as the train actually stopped I moved down to the nearest door and I hopped onto the train, I moved down the corridor looking for an empty unlocked cabin, most of the cabins that were empty were locked so I couldn't go in until I found of the last cabins that only had one person inside. So I tapped on the half-open door "Excuse me, Do you mind?" I asked glancing to the other side, The man looked up from his leather-bound book adjusting himself and fixing his blue waistcoat a little "No, no Please," He said "Thank you," I smiled setting my bags above and taking a seat across the table from him with the window looking out as we headed off from the station "Do excuse me, half of the cabins are locked," "I noticed that too. I think it's because of the weather they lock half of them so they only need to heat the open half" he laughed "Practical I suppose." I chuckled "Y/n Y/l/n," I smiled offering my hand "Pleasure" He smiled giving my hand a kiss "Simon Brown," he smiled "I'm sorry Miss y/l/n?" "Yes." "Couldn't be roses in the brook, miss Y/l/n?" "The Very same" I giggled "I have to admit brown brings a thought to my mind but I'm terrible with names" "Uhhh… You may be familiar with the wicked Nanny?" "Oh my goodness! Yes of course I'm so sorry" "It's alright a lot of people don't recognise me" "Tea?" A lady asked as she came by the door "Would you like one?" he asked "I'd love a cup" I smiled trying to get my purse but he stopped me "Two if you please, extra milk no sugar for me, how do you take yours?" "Just the same" I smiled the lady made us our tea and handed them to us so we sat them on the table she shut the door and carried on down the carriage so I took my spoon giving it a good stir. "what may I ask brings you to the rattling rails today Mr Brown?" I asked "Well, it's that time of year, got to take a pilgrimage to see the folks" He laughs sipping his tea "Yourself?" "I always take the train up to a little holiday home of mine for Christmas, I do love the snow in the country. Winter isn't the same in the city." "Sounds lovely" He smiled "ohh seems we have some snow to join us" He smiled I looked and saw the sweet hills and valleys, fields littered with sweet houses, trees bare of their leaves, all now being dusted by a sweet fluffy of snow that had already begun to settle and coat every inch of the world outside, the shadow of the snow fell across our table, and for a moment it was utter bliss to sit int he warm comfort of our little cabin, on cosy plump seats, with the heater under the table working away to push out sweet warmth while watching the snow flutter and fall. "You have anyone joining you at the holiday home?" "No. Just me." "Oh, even on Christmas day?" "Yes, no family to visit me so" "Well… I know my family would be happy to host you if you'd like to come have dinner with us?" "Really? They wouldn't mind?" "Not at all. they'd be thrilled to have you" "I don't want to impose" "No no absolutely your more then welcome" "Thank you, that's very kind of you Simon, I return I'd love to extend an invitation to you for new years, my little holiday home looks over the lake and they often launch fire works" "I'd love to. It's agreed then. I look forwards to it" He smiled giving my hand a little kiss