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novelizt · 5 months

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EXPECTO PATRONUM I ☁︎ ANTHONY LOCKWOOD

⚜ PART 2 | SERIES MASTERLIST

GENRE ➺ HOGWARTS AU [slytherin! lockwood x fem! ravenclaw! reader]. rivals to lovers (and a dash of 'everyone knows but them'). fluff and angst.

WC ➺ 13.7k

SYNOPSIS ➺ after a six year rivalry with lockwood, your patronus suddenly matches his when it didn't before.

DISCLAIMER ➺ reader is implied to be shorter than lockwood. appearance of harry potter next gen characters and a few ocs. lockwood calls reader 'sweetheart' and 'my dearest vexation'. prefect! lockwood. (i also headcanon him being a cunning-flirt, so lockwood might read slightly ooc.)

WARNINGS ➺ strained family dynamics (for reader), love potions (misuse of magic), dragons on the loose, wizard duels, and a lot of unpolished dialogue.

NOTES ➺ it's been a long time coming. i hope this finds you when you need it 💙 happy nanowrimo !!

this was originally a one-shot that got split in two. please read part two after this to see their happily ever after 💙

For every Gryffindor came a Slytherin waiting to trouble them. You thought you were in the clear after you'd been sorted into Ravenclaw four years ago. So, you questioned how you had the misfortune of being vexed by a serpent such as Anthony Lockwood.

He boasted the status of being the sole muggle-born Slythern in your year, as well as a colossal thorn in your side. He made it routine to test you. You knew his M.O. well enough to recognize the sound of his footsteps before he even reached you.

"We're learning advanced protective charms in Defence today," he announced like you didn't speed through the syllabus already.

You didn't have to look at him to know he was sporting that lilted smile of his. If you were in a bitter mood, you might have even slung a hex at him.

Luckily for him, you just wanted to get through the day. You quickened your steps. He followed like a parasite.

He even had the gall to bend at the knees to be at eye-level with you, the right side of his mouth curved higher than his left. "Come on, sweetheart. Not even a nod of acknowledgement?"

"If it will get you to leave me be..."

You granted his request and even offered a stiff nod, hoping that would suffice.

You hoped too much because all he did was grin and return to his regularly scheduled goading by matching your stride.

"Away with you," you shooed.

You threw your arm out, aiming for his shoulder. He caught your hand before it even made contact—giving your knuckle a quick tap just to aggravate you.

"I know that trick, sweetheart." He unfurled fingers from yours, slow and deliberate. "Let me walk you, at least. I am a gentleman. Oh– Don't make that face. I really am!"

"If you are such a gentleman, you'd pay attention to my request and leave."

"Suddenly, I'm a barbarian." He shot you a wink that made you wish the floor would swallow you whole. "I could do much worse, you know. Have you heard of oobleck—the stuff muggles are raving about? Bet you'd have a jolly time finding out how to get a non-Newtonian fluid out of your hair."

He feigned a yawn, dropping an arm over your shoulders and giving your arm a subtle squeeze to drive home the fact that he had no intentions of letting you go.

"Arse," was your gracious response.

"Oh, don't be like that. If you are going to play that game, I do have a divine rump. So do you," he said without missing a beat. He played a fool to your slack jaw and widened eyes. "And would you look at that! We've arrived to your classroom. That wasn't so bad, was it?"

If only looks could kill.

Your systems stalled when he dipped his head and planted an ever-cheeky kiss on your temple.

It was futile to throw out a fist to dent that pretty face of his, because he caught your hand before you could even land a hit.

"Cheeky," Lockwood crooned. He tapped your nose before letting you go. You made a show of flicking off the invisible mites he gave you. "Nice try though, sweetheart."

"You—" When you tried to stomp on his foot, he veered out of the way, finessed as a Chesire.

At that point, you knew you were fighting a losing battle. You lifted your chin and crossed the threshold into Potions, ignoring the exorbitant waves and kissy faces he made at you.

Your classmates levelled you with looks of intrigue but you ignored them, too.

Of course, Lockwood had to have the last word. "Remember not to mix up your asphodel and lavender. Wouldn't want another smokey incident, would we? You basically handed me that perfect score."

You tried not to shrivel when a ripple of giggles disrupted the stillness of the classroom.

You threw a nasty look over your shoulder and turned sour when he left, his laugh echoing down the hall. You estimated that he'd be a few minutes late to his class, even if he had to run to make it. Poor chap.

Finally, you were rid of him, but the newly realised smell in the room replaced his slot as your morning vexation. The smell of old parchment, clipped grass, and (much to your bereavement) the Lockwood Stench viscerally assaulted your senses.

You blanched, falling into your seat. "Heavens, did he leave his perfume in here? It smells awful."

As if seeing his face wasn't bad enough, he managed to be the subject of your irritation even if he was absent from the room.

James Potter II, your seatmate and friend, laughed. Eyes crinkling like he knew something you didn't. "He, meaning Anthony Lockwood?"

Your lip curled at the name. Even while preoccupied by your review notes, the smell clouded you. Your attempts to wave away the stench only made it stronger.

It wasn't the worst smell in the wizarding world but you'd rather go through the only class you don't share with him without the incessant thought of him. A huff left you as you came to peace with the fact that your nose would lose its sense eventually.

James's most devious grin stretched across his face. "That's Amortentia over there."

Your breath caught. He jutted a finger at the cauldron that sat at the end of your two-seater desk.

Surely enough, the brew had a pearlescent sheen with curls of peach smoke spiralling into the air, infecting the room with its fragrance. Now that you'd been made aware, your ribs felt too right for your lungs.

Your laugh came out stiff. You coughed, hoping it sutured the cracks in your façade. "I was mistaken then. I only smell the Quidditch Pitch."

James hummed, unconvinced.

—

Time passed slower when you were dying to forget the incident at Potions. Your eyes kept jumping to your watch before the middle of the day had even passed.

Classes had come and gone, and a certainly foul smell clung to the walls of this classroom—as was always the case for Defence Against the Dark Arts. For a moment, you missed smelling the amortentia, then jolted at what other thing that implied.

You knew class started when your peers fell silent, listening attentively on tipped toes. It was every man for himself on days the tables and chairs were pushed to the side of the room.

"On this fine day, we are covering a very tricky, but very utilised charm." The Professor circled the room, inspecting posture and wand grip as she passed.

For a moment, her eyes fell on you, and you stiffened under her gaze. Her lip quirked, like she found comfort in scaring you.

You were made aware that she was a rival of your grandmother's, back in their heyday. You surmised that because she couldn't get one up on your grandmother, she transposed her efforts onto the next best thing: You, and she wasn't afraid to show it.

Her heels clicked, grating your ears as she went on to terrorise a few more unfortunate souls in the way. The vast majority were daft to her impartiality.

She went on a lecture about the charm's importance in the Battle at Hogwarts. You were about to doze off when she slapped her wand against her palm. "Now that the lot of you are in your fourth year, I feel that it is important to know how to cast it in light of grave circumstances."

She waved her wand and muttered a few words before a silvery line jumped from her wand, spinning in the air and illuminating the room before taking on the shape of a rabbit.

The silvery manifestation hopped along with great speed, passing you briskly and making you stumble.

A hand caught your arm before you hit the floor. You were quick to retrieve yourself when you realised that it was Lockwood. You tuned out his mild laugh as you turned away without thanks.

The patronus then skidded to a halt at James's side, speaking in the Professor's voice. "I expect you to know this, Mr. Potter."

It dispersed and a vicious applause shook the room. Even you found yourself wide-eyed in exhilaration. Fighting the fact that the professor was rude, the patronus charm was something you'd been dying to learn way back when.

In the midst of the celebration, your eyes caught Lockwood's, only to find him already staring. There was a pinching sensation in your gut. It forced you to look away. You missed his smile completely.

The Professor ordered the class to break into pairs. Lockwood glued himself to your side before you could blink. He was shooing people away before you could even shoo him away.

"She's got a nasty temper, that one. Wouldn't want her patronus to lunge at you."

"I will have it bite your head off," you murmured, watching a nice Hufflepuff back away. Thus, leaving you alone with the bane of your existence.

"You're too nice for that," Lockwood replied, tapping your side with a half-smile.

"You just said I have a temper."

"With me, yes. But I can handle you."

You had a lot to say about that. The Professor spoke before you could.

"Now," Professor mused. Her voice bounced off the walls in higher vibration. "Using the instructions in your books, attempt to cast your patronus. Remember! The lighter the memory, the more efficient the patronus."

A chorus of turning pages echoed. You and Lockwood withdrew your wands, already knowing which spell to use.

His lips quirked. "Did some advanced reading, did you?"

"You know me so well."

You shook in anticipation, but, after shortly regarding your partner, you refrained from looking too eager.

"Dunderheads first," you urged with false cheer.

The insult flew over Lockwood's head. "Gladly. I like to think my patronus would be a lion."

You couldn't help but snort. "I assume yours would be a housecat with a lot of overgrown hair."

"That would be you."

You had an inkling that he found joy in watching you frown.

After a long while and a generous amount of griping, his wand moved, and he muttered, "Expecto patronum."

A silvery burst of light exploded from his wand. Wisps spun in the air before the dust settled, revealing a crane. It stretched, showcasing several inches of its incandescent neck and wingspan before Lockwood waved his wand once more. The motion sent it in a circle around the room.

It was so majestic, you couldn't pry your eyes away. Other students stared in envy as the crane weaved past other patronuses, nipping at them playfully before soaring back to you.

Wait, not to you... At you.

You found your feet, ready to duck before the silvery bird crashed into you, but it never did. It dispersed before it even touched a hair on your head.

It was an explosion of silver sand. It brushed your cheek with unexpected warmth. The cold seeped into your robes as the darkness veiled you.

"Shame." Lockwood clicked his tongue. "Thought I could freak you out a bit. I couldn't hold it for too long, though."

"Truly a shame," you simpered.

Professor's applause rang out from the other side of the room. Likely for Lockwood's expert execution or his taunting you. Mayhaps both.

"Good work, Mr. Lockwood! Keep practising and your patronus could glide over the Atlantic one day."

"Hear that?" He brightened at the compliment, standing taller as he leaned toward you. "It's your turn, dunderhead."

The number of hexes you could have used . . . You didn't need them. You needed happy thoughts to conjure up a patronus. It was hard enough standing in the same room as Lockwood and Professor Loathes-Your-Guts.

Your inspirations were of holidays and golden scores; your parents' approval; Lockwood falling on his face during Quidditch (your lips twitched at the memory); and the muggle fantasy novels you hid in your room.

A warm feeling shot down your arm, heartening you to mutter the enchantment. The feeling wrapped around your body like a blanket, and when you opened your eyes, your own patronus stared back at you.

It stood metres above the rest, towering over students and patronuses alike. Wisps of silver waved to and fro its body. The only apt description for it was 'colossal'.

"Is that a giraffe?" Lockwood muttered.

"No, It's a pelican." You smiled at his frown. "Of course, it's a giraffe, Lockwood."

You'd never seen one so pretty.

It glowed so bright that Lockwood looked blue in its light. He spared you a look of resignation.

You win.

A swell of pride came to the surface before the patronus wilted away. The space it stood turned black.

Hollers rung out, shaking the bricked walls. A new wave of excitement seized the room. You didn't even glance at the Professor but you could feel her heated gaze on the back of your head. That was victory enough.

—

Three years following that day, you're harrowed by the thought of leaving this place behind. Hogwarts felt like home, more so than the one you shared with your parents.

It was difficult to imagine life without the sky above the dining tables or the constant presence of Prefects scolding lower years.

Soon, your rivalry with Lockwood would fade to the black, too. As far as you knew, the fool was gunning to be an auror. Becoming one yourself wasn't a path you were inclined to take.

You passed the hourglasses of House Points and watched as more trickled into Slytherin's glass, and you felt nothing. The fact that you came to peace with having less points should have been concerning. Your mother would scorn you if she ever caught you thinking that way.

Not wanting to linger, you turned for the dining hall.

You didn't flinch when a weight fell over your shoulders and Lockwood's pretty face invaded your periphery. You should have known he couldn't leave you alone for too long.

"Lockwood."

He grinned. "My dearest vexation."

Your nose scrunched, irritation injected with the smallest feeling of familiarity. "Don't call me that."

"Copy that," He smiled, dragging you closer by the arm around your shoulders. "sweetheart."

It was a lost cause to correct the priss.

"I thought you would've matured by now. Disappointing, really."

"I could be mature, or I could point out the fact that we have fifty points above Ravenclaw."

"I don't mind."

He stalled, and you stopped with him. You didn't really have a choice when he had you under his wing.

He searched your eyes, bewildered. Unsettled, even. "What's on with you?"

You tried to shrug him off but he held fast, fingers practically melded to your arm. "I'm fine, thank you very much. I just don't see the point of upholding this... this–" What was this? You didn't finish the thought before swaying the conversation elsewhere. "We're graduating this year. Might as well set an example for the first-years."

"Our squabbles make it fun for them." On the brink of being offended, he insisted, "They have plenty of examples as is. Kat Godwin sucks the life out of everything, George is best friends with Moaning Myrtle, and Lucy is off talking to the illusive Gray Lady."

You groaned. "That isn't the point."

You made an attempt to shove him, but he caught your hand.

"You have got to start thinking of better ways to express yourself other than hitting or shoving. You should know I always see it coming."

"I can express myself just fine," you respired, yanking your hand away. "But do go ahead. Indulge me. What, pray tell, does that make us?"

Lockwood flourished his free hand as he spoke. "We are 'the arch rivals who makes their problem everyone's problem'. The lower years adore it!"

"Do they?"

In time for your asking, a group of second-years waved at Lockwood, and then to you. He waved back whilst you offered them a terse smile.

One of the girls elbowed her friend. As whispery as her tone was, everyone still heard her. "See? Told you they suit each other."

"They are a couple. Of course, they do," the friend replied.

"Not a couple," you corrected swiftly.

They scurried faster. Before they left the hall, one yelled out, "Just kiss already!"

Despite his matching flush, Lockwood turned to you with a cheeky grin. "You heard them. Let us kiss." He advanced, lips puckered.

You blocked the way with your palm, spreading your fingers until you could push his head back by his forehead. "Yeah– No."

You pried yourself free from his grip to sit with your friends. He didn't fight it, but you weren't surprised that he shouted after you. "But I was right! We have to give the audience what they want!"

"Mr. Lockwood!" Professor McGonagall stood to reprimand him.

You turned away to hide a laugh.

—

The day was lovely. The previous day's rain left a dewy haze in its wake. It was chilly but not cold, and the sun and clouds looked remarkably friendly that morning.

Even then, you didn't know what it was. Your stomach churned for a reason unseen. In the stillness, you could hear a pin drop. You could hear yourself think for once.

Not long after the nagging feeling arrived, you came to the horrific conclusion that Lockwood's absence felt off-putting. You were walking to potions class alone, for the first time in years.

There was no Anthony Lockwood galloping behind you, throwing his arm around you and messing up your hair when you shrug him off. There was no warning as to what your class would be covering that day or a passive-aggressive jab about the most recent Quidditch match.

And, bizarrely, you missed the chaos. You shuddered as the thought struck you.

You held your books tighter and quickened your pace to get to class. When you arrived at Potions, Lockwood-less, your classmates stood to verify the emptiness of the doorway for themselves. Even they were puzzled.

James cocked a brow as you sat and laid out your items without a noise. "Where's lover boy?"

"Using his brain and finally leaving me alone," you responded, wincing at the hint of exasperation in your tone. You didn't mean to sound so dejected, and you definitely didn't intend to slam your things on your desk either. There's a lot of things you didn't intend to do today and 'mentioning Lockwood' was now at the top of that list.

"Mhm," James leaned back in his seat, eyeing you warily. "You don't look too happy."

"I stayed up late doing that essay about counter-potions," you reasoned, having a hard time getting the words out.

James looked pained when you mentioned it. Seconds later, you stifled a laugh when he admitted to forgetting all about that assignment.

Contrary to what you'd promised yourself, Lockwood remained in the back of your mind the entire period.

—

When had Anthony Lockwood ever been interested in Oriana Cai?

That's the first question that popped into your head as you watched him kneel before her with a bouquet of the reddest roses you'd ever seen.

The display was so unexpected, it knocked the air out of your lungs. Your jaw fell slack. James had to pick it up off the ground before you came back to your senses.

In that time, Oriana squealed and clapped, throwing herself forward and strangling the bane-of-your-existence in a hug he enjoyed a little too much. The flowers ended up discarded on the floor.

You had more sense than to gawk. Your chest constricted when Lockwood didn't even acknowledge you as you passed. You shook off the feeling along with the sense of dread you felt from earlier.

His affairs were none of your business, yet, you found yourself thinking about it when you didn't intend to. It's a stake to the heart that his scheduled banter and crude comments were put on hold for whatever that was.

Lockwood had forsaken his seat across from you in favour of sitting with Oriana and her clique. They laughed all through lunch break, his teeth on display, stuck in an unmoving smile.

He looks like a clown, you thought as you skewered a floret of broccoli onto your fork.

You glanced at the professors' table to see if they'd caught onto Lockwood's bizarre behaviour, but they were daft to it.

To any normal person, Lockwood was being a silly boy with a crush. To you, it was abnormal.

Lockwood didn't have the balls to be that forward. How could you say that without sounding obsessed with him?

"If you stare any longer, you might actually burn a hole through his head." James nudged your side and you returned it with a harder shove. "Woah! Cool down, smarty pants. I'm on your side here. I'm just saying, glaring daggers at him won't do much."

"He's being odd," you whispered petulantly.

"I know!" James set his elbow on the table. "What are you going to do about it?"

"Me? Why would I do anything?"

Your eyes landed on Lockwood again. You sucked your teeth before looking away.

James snapped his fingers, forcing you to look up as he pointed an accusatory finger at you. "That. That's why you would do something."

"I don't meddle in Lockwood's affairs. He can do whatever he wants," you said tersely. "If he's so immersed in his romantic life, I might as well get ahead and score more points for my house."

"It bothers you, doesn't it?"

"No." Another unfortunate vegetable faced the wrath of your fork. James flinched. "It doesn't bother me in the slightest."

"If you need me to help, just give me a bell." James vacated his seat, gave your shoulder a firm pat, then went off to check on his cousins, praying none of them caught whatever Lockwood's got.

You stewed in your own thoughts before you gave into temptation and looked at Lockwood for the last time. For lunch, at least.

He blinked rapidly, like there were stars stuck in his eyes. The distorted look on his face dissipated when Oriana popped a wad of gum into his mouth. He chewed and chewed until the colour returned to his face. Redder than before.

You tried to shovel your conspiracies down with your lunch. You even chewed slower to put your focus elsewhere, but you couldn't shake off the dread that roiled in the recess of your mind.

—

"I can extend my essay by three paragraphs," you said to Lockwood in the library, attempting to coax him out of his stupor. "I'd beat your record."

"Yeah." He sighed, daydreaming. He hadn't written anything in his scroll. His competitive spirit died somewhere between his confession and now.

You slid into the seat across from him and waved in his face. He looked right through you, staring at the wall. When you followed his gaze, your expression fell flat.

He wasn't staring at the wall, he was staring at Oriana Cai, again. She wiggled her fingers at him, giggling behind her hand.

The moment she saw you, she didn't even attempt to hide her disdain. Suddenly, the library felt colder than before. For the first time in forever, you couldn't find the right words to explain it.

—

You watched Lockwood's change of behaviour with a scrutinising eye. You managed to pick up on a few things that changed.

First, he was infatuated with Oriana Cai. You caught them snogging the other day and you had to hold your breath to keep your lunch down. So much for decorum.

Second, he'd lost all interest in everything other than his girlfriend. He hadn't mentioned Quidditch in the past week, and he didn't have a modicum of concern for his plummeting scores. It was a scenario you never thought possible.

Lastly, Lockwood had a newly acquired addiction to bubblegum. Not just any type of gum. It was Bombarda of Flavour: Berry Kiss.

With a bit of research, you discovered that BOF was a brand run by Oriana's family. Any sane person would assume that Lockwood was an avid fan of his girlfriend's family business, but you were everything but sane.

When you presented the facts to James, he continued to chew on his liquorice. "And? Where is this going?"

"The sweets are infused with Amortentia," you concluded.

James stopped, stared at his liquorice with distrust, then threw it into a bin. "How can you be so sure?"

"Cai's family runs a gum business. Lockwood's been acting weird since he started chewing the gum Cai brought him. It can't be simple coincidence."

"So, not only are you accusing Cai of spiking gum with amortentia, but her family of being an accessory to misuse of magic as well?"

"They've got to be aware of what she's doing, at least! And they're not stopping her, are they? They're just as guilty," you said fervently.

"Fine," James relented. "How are we going to prove that and save your guy?"

"He's not my guy."

"Sure."

You cleared your throat before sitting down. "We need to steal from the potions classroom."

"You are... insane."

There was a bated silence that followed. You raised your brows at him.

He cracked a smile. "I'm in."

—

Potters had a speciality for breaking rules. You came to that conclusion after James, Albus (James's younger brother), and Scorpius Malfoy managed to steal the ingredients you needed without being caught. They looked quite proud of themselves too.

You wasted no time laying out your theory scrolls and recipe book.

"What's she doing?" Albus asked.

"Saving Lockwood," James answered as-a-matter-of-factly.

"I knew something was wrong with him," Scorpius rasped. "Knew something was up with them too."

You silenced him and ordered James to escort the boys back to their dorm. They didn't go without a fight, but James was experienced enough to wrangle them away.

—

"Lockwood—"

He passed you without a second glance.

Your heart flatlined, but you fought against the feeling and recalled why you were there. You steeled your resolve.

With shining eyes and pulled shoulders, you pivoted and captured his arm. The indifference in his eyes was an arrow passing straight through you.

You had to swallow the lump in your throat to find your voice. "Could you try this for me?"

There was no readily available remedy for amortentia, leaving one with the mere hope that its effects diminish over time. The problem was that Oriana Cai had a continuous supply of bewitching gums intentionally keeping him under her enchantment.

You used all your potions knowledge to concoct a solution that would—cross your fingers—work. It was blended into a scrumptious looking cookie thanks to the expertise of culinary enthusiast, George Karim.

You were worried that he wouldn't even give it a try, but he took the package from your hands.

"Thanks."

He walked away without a second thought. It tore your heart in two, but he accepted the cookie! You raised your arms in triumph, stopping short when he tossed the cookie and its cute wrapper out of the nearest window.

Your excitement plummeted along with it.

—

You took a chapter out of Lockwood's book and persevered. He no longer competed with you to answer the professors' questions, but you took every chance to goad him into a debate. All for naught. He barely did anything anymore.

You tried to cure him several more times with the same anti-Amortentia solution. Three times to be exact: ice cream, soup, and—your most desperate attempt yet—gum.

In the end, he'd throw them all away.

All he would put in his mouth was anything Cai spoon-fed him. It made you want to throttle him.

Lockwood was a capable wizard, and the witch had reduced him to something short of being a man-baby.

On your worst days, you'd reluctantly admitted to missing the banter. Even his annoying grin; the one that rose higher on the right side. The same one that had eluded you since the beginning of term.

The seasons changed. Oriana Cai still had Anthony Lockwood under her thumb.

You melted into the velvet blue couch, sighing to the starlit window of Ravenclaw turret. Even the sheer beauty of the common rooms did little to console you.

You draped your arm over your eyes. "Who knew things were this boring without that pest?"

James, who wasn't even supposed to be allowed into the tower, grasped his chest. "Ouch. What of the rest of us?"

"Rowena!" shouted George. You jumped when he slammed his book shut. "I thought your raving about your books was bad enough. Just tell him you miss him already,"

He was done with you sneaking James in to concoct whatever else you were thinking up. He had lost the plot. At that point, even he was versed in anti-amortentia theory.

"She doesn't miss him," James sighed, bored. "apparently."

"I don't," you said promptly. "Karim, you should be more concerned. Your friend is being spelled into being a muppet."

"I am concerned," George retorted hotly. "But I am so sick of staying up 'till Merlin knows when to find out what you're going to spin into a dish next. I can't even study in peace!"

"We're not that bad, are we?" Looking for backup, you propped your chin over the back of the couch, shooting your most precious smile at your youngsters, Lorcan and Lysander Scamander.

Lorcan shook his head, and Lysander nodded his.

"It's a draw," James chuckled.

Frustration poured from George. "Can you please just find somewhere else to scheme? I want to study and not hear 'Lockwood' every bloody second."

"Fine." You hugged your pile of recipe pages to your chest. "We'll go somewhere we're appreciated."

"Oh, please. Don't go too far. The end of the world doesn't actually exist," George nipped.

James snorted, amused.

You closed the door behind you, finally giving Ravenclaw Tower some much deserved silence.

—

Another crumpled up piece of paper rolled on the rim of the bin before unceremoniously falling out.

You knew your onions, but this was getting tedious. After wasting hours relishing in the staleness of your coffee and the soreness of your fingers, you were just about ready to throw in the towel.

James had left you a bit ago, something about helping Lucy with setting up the flying lesson for the first-years.

They were probably done with it by then and you were still there, trying to brainstorm a method that would knock some sense back into the tosser you called a rival.

About a metre of wasted scroll and dried ink were the results of your efforts. Even then, you didn't reach a plausible solution to your problem.

When you succumbed to your headache and glanced at the clock, the lateness kickstarted your bloodstream. When you stood, you swayed from the dark spots that danced in your vision.

You didn't allow yourself to stay in a haze for too long. You had already missed two and a half classes by the time you broke out of your reverie.

The halls were all empty. You were bound to be in trouble.

You were a punctual student, an excellent student. You were miffed that all it took for you to slip was the absence of a boy. Pathetic. Then again... The boy was what made winning fun.

Your brisk walk quickened to a jog, dreading the inevitability of explaining your tardiness.

"Sweetheart?"

You paused, opening your ears.

Silence.

You scoffed and picked up your stride. Then you heard him again, saying your name. It was odd — odd enough for you to realise that it wasn't a figment of your imagination.

His voice was a trap and you submitted to it too easily. You spun back around to trace the voice and stopped short of the bend. Anyone would have stalled at the rare sight of Oriana Cai angry, her nails sinking into Lockwood's cheeks.

Bile rose to your throat.

Lockwood's back was pushed flush against the wall, he was fervently shaking his head like he was shaking the daze out of his system.

"Quiet!" she commanded him. "Darling, I'm only doing this for us."

His hand closed around her wrist but whatever the potion had done to him left him fatigued. "No, my—" He licked his bottom lip, correcting himself. "She's—"

"Not here! How many times am I going to tell you?"

To your relief, she retracted her nails from him. Your heart started back up when she produced a pack of gum.

"You're better off with me, Ant. I love you, not her. She's nothing but a bitter wench who didn't realise what she had until someone took it from her. See how she only looks for you when we're together? She's selfish!"

"You don't understand," he tried to slap the gum from her hand but she was more sober than he was. For the first time in a long time, the right side of his mouth tipped up. It wounded you. "She needs me. She just won't admit it."

Oriana didn't take it well. Her face bursted in shades of red. Her beautiful features twisted into a grizzly scowl. "None of her!"

"Expelliarmus!"

Your hand quivered as you casted, but your magic did what it was meant to. The gum flew from her hand.

Her glowering face turned to you with killer intent.

"You!" She flew at you. Her billowing robes a thing plucked from your worst nightmares.

Your hand flicked instinctively. "Expecto patronum!"

She shrieked. Your silvery protector crashing against her face.

None of you saw what form it took, but the burst of silver straight into her eyes stunned her long enough for you to run around her and take Lockwood by the arm. His hands quivered; less from adrenaline, more from pure exhaustion. You could almost feel his pulse under your palm.

You coaxed him to muster his strength. "Come on, you barbarian. We need to get help."

The chuckle he let out was pathetic, but it's familiar enough to make you crack a smile. There's your Lockwood after all. He wasn't all gone.

"Knew you'd save me," he rasped. You held him tighter when he stumbled. He held on with what strength he could muster. "You always do."

Not the time to disarm you with a statement like that. An angry stupefy soared overhead, quickly followed by what you assumed was the cruciatus curse. You grunted when an angry zap nicked your side.

You held onto Lockwood and he held onto you, both clattering down the longest steps of your lives. An inspired, deranged girl at your heels.

"Give me my boyfriend back!" She shrieked, casting a fury of spells at you. The echo of the halls amplified her bellows. "He's mine! I earned him!"

He tripped on a lifted tile, leaning on you as you rushed for the landing.

Your heartbeat made it's way to your ears. Every breath felt forced. You pushed ahead, dragging Lockwood's weight down every winding twist in the moving steps.

A very explosive bombarda forced you to stagger back and reconsider your escape route. Only, there was no escape route. The changing stairwells had you and Lockwood trapped on a landing.

Oriana descended like an angel made from her own delusions.

Your lungs struggled to take in air with an unbearable stitch in your aide. Lockwood collapsed to his knees, drained of energy. As his eyes fought to stay open, he clung to your hand like it was his lifeline.

You shifted to hide his crumpled form from Cai.

"You've had your chance, Scarecrow." Cai laughed, on the brink of tears. In her eyes, she was as innocent as a girl who simply had something swiped from her. "He was at your knees for years! Why can't you let him be happy with me? Give him to me, please..."

Your jaw tensed. The lick of anger in your chest stoked to a fire the longer she spoke.

"He's not an object," you managed without spitting flames. "He can feel what he wants, when he wants. If he wishes to walk away from me after all this... I wouldn't blame him. But casting a spell on him? That's not love, Cai. It isn't love. You're trapping him."

Cai's nose flared. "What a saint! Sorry, should I let him grieve something he never had with you? You're blind to not see it. You ruined him! This is the only way. I can help him if you just let me—"

Something moved in your periphery. A mop of black hair, the best wingman in Hogwarts.

You were on the verge of a smile, feeling your adrenaline decrescendo. "Your family, they know what you're doing?"

She grinned. "My family supports my decisions. Contrary to yours, I hear. They agree that you're a heartless witch, and a dose of amortentia should fix him for me."

Your breath hitched. Lockwood clenched your hand, bringing you back.

"For your information," your lip twitched. "I'm an Eagle, not a Scarecrow. Get your house representatives right."

You collapsed the moment a barrier surged around her, her screaming muffled by the incantations.

James came down the steps in stride with Professor Flitwick.

"Not 'your guy', huh?" James taunted, crouching beside you. You offered him a tight-lipped smile.

Professor Flitwick fortified his barrier before he addressed you. "Splendid patronus. You're the first to project your voice and have it travel as far as it did. I expected no less from our ace student. As for Ms. Cai..." He looked at her with pinched brows.. He wasn't sure what to do, really. There had never been a situation that drastic before. "She will be penalised accordingly."

The weight on your shoulders lifted, but a new one came just as quick. You straightened your back to support Lockwood's limp weight.

The warmth of his breath fanned your neck, a feeling that made your stomach churn for all the wrong reasons. He still smelt like the berry-flavoured gum that got him into this mess in the first place.

The same mess that had made you miss a few classes for the first time in six years.

With the last of your energy, you raised a trembling hand. "Professor?"

"Yes?"

"Are we considered tardy?"

He pushed his glasses higher up his nose before replying. "That should be the least of your troubles, you." Professor Flitwick turned to your friend. "James Potter?"

James saluted. "I've got them, prof."

"Please refrain from calling me 'prof', Mr Potter."

"Yes, prof."

—

Madame Pomfrey had a lot to say about the unforthcoming mess that was Lockwood, post-Amortentia.

For the better part of the appointment, Madame Pomfrey concluded that Lockwood wasn't severely altered by the prolonged exposure to love potion. For the worse part, he was advised to sit out of anything too physically demanding until he felt like himself again.

"But how can I feel like myself without Quidditch?" he agonised, as if you beheld all the answers.

You were forced to hear it, seeing as you were roommates until Madame Pomfrey declared you both stable enough to go free.

You buried yourself into the stiff pillows of the medical ward. "A week of rest and observation isn't as bad as the months you were bewitched, honestly."

"Pray, how can it be worse?"

You lifted your head. "Ever read out a lengthy love poem in the middle of the dining hall?"

"No..."

Your lips tipped up. "Yes."

He shut his eyes and splayed his hand over his head, trying to wash out the visualisation of actually doing that for all of Hogwarts to see.

"End me," he rasped.

"If you insist," your smile stretched. "You recited one for breakfast, lunch, and dinner. Every. Single. Day."

He slapped another hand over his face. "Oh... what have I done to deserve this?"

"Caught the eye of a loony, apparently. It was horrid. I felt sorry for you."

"Don't patronise me."

You jerked a finger at him. "I earned the right. I got a nasty laceration in my side for you. Unwillingly, might I add."

His arms fell away, honeyed eyes set on you. "Please, if you were unwilling, you wouldn't have tried so hard to save me."

"If I left you for dead, I would be a monster."

"A very pretty one," he chimed.

"So you can still pull that drivel out of your arse. Good to know we didn't lose you."

"Say what you will." He crossed his arms behind his head, smiling like a jester. "I know you have a place for me in that shrivelled, darkened heart of yours."

"My heart isn't shrivelled or darkened," you said defiantly.

He quirked a brow, smirking. "You correct that but not the fact that I have a place in it?"

"You—" You opted to chuck your emptied juice carton at him.

In classic Lockwood fashion, he caught the carton in his hand and waved it triumphantly. "Try again, sweetheart. I know your habits like I know the back of my hand."

You raised a not-so-friendly finger and slid your curtain to hide yourself from his view. Still, you heard his laughter, loud and alive.

You weren't aware of how much you'd missed it until you caught yourself smiling.

—

Anthony Lockwood was the kind of child who would climb up the slide. Not because it was fun, but because he liked the thrill of breaking the rules.

Some things never changed, because he had convinced you to accompany him on a night fly while Madame Pomfrey was off collecting herbs from the green house.

You had flown through the worst weather while playing Quidditch, but it struck you that you'd never been out this late. Not one-on-one with Lockwood, at least.

It was a terrible, unsafe idea, but he had a way with words. He made it seem like a once in a lifetime opportunity. You weren't sure whether that was true, since he did use his prefect status to sneak into places he wasn't allowed into.

You knew that turning around was crossed off your list the moment he broke into the closet and extracted your broom for you.

"I have a hard time believing you've never done this before," you whispered as you took in the sight of the Quidditch Pitch, void of life and light.

It was a haunting sight, but Lockwood had been right about it being a once in a lifetime scene. The moon was the only guiding light, drowning everything in a seductive mauve colour. It brought out the beauty of sparse light and silhouettes, you almost believed you stepped into one of your fantasy novels.

He flashed his teeth at you before he vaulted over the partition and traipsed across the grass. His trusty broom already levitating by his side. "I've never done this with you before, if that's what you're asking."

It wasn't, but you didn't want to know who else would join Lockwood in his idiocy.

You followed suit and mounted your broom, allowing yourself to rise several metres to feel the bite of the nocturnal chill.

"It's an amazing feeling, isn't it?" Lockwood shouted, his two feet still on the ground.

"I'm not going to admit that I enjoy breaking the rules," you responded, flying modest circles while taking in the scene.

While the wind whistled in your ears and tousled your hair, he wheeled a box out of storage and flipped the latches.

You squinted, trying to see what he was doing but his back was covering the contents of the box.

"What's that?"

A golden streak of light veered away from him. Even as the breeze bellowed in your ear, you could hear its tinkling wings.

The Snitch.

"Can't have fun without a challenge," Lockwood said. His boisterous laughter echoed in your ears as he hopped onto his broom and zoomed up, up, and up, already chasing the golden menace.

He passed you, his robes grazing your elbow. You didn't think twice. You gave chase, following the direction you had seen the Snitch blitz to.

Lockwood's curls fought against velocity. You were almost tempted to comment on it before you saw a glimmer in the corner of your eye.

You and Lockwood swerved at the same time. Waves of black, blue, and green flagged through darkness as you bent forward, urging your trusty broom to overtake Lockwood's. You were closing in on the Snitch, stretching your hand to reach for it.

It's buzzing crescendoed in your ears, forcing your blood to pump as Lockwood did the same.

Oh, so close.

The Snitch brushed your fingertips before it zagged. Spinning in the air before rushing right at you.

You bent your body, narrowly missing a Snitch to the nose. The same couldn't be said for Lockwood.

You heard the thump of the collision before you saw him clutching his mouth. It was futile for you to hold in a laugh.

"You alright?"

His glare only made you laugh harder.

"Ouch," he hissed, taking his hand away from his mouth.

You snorted after seeing the damage.

Luckily, nothing was broken, but there was a faint pink smudge across his bottom lip and cheek.

You raised a brow. "You wear lipstick?"

"It's lip balm," he said haughtily, wiping away the smudge. "Is there something wrong with that?"

"No," You held a laugh long enough to reach across to wipe the smidge he couldn't quite swipe away. He stiffened at your touch. You did your best to hold in a reaction of your own. "I just didn't expect you to be a lip balm sort of guy."

"Do I look like a lipstick guy?" he inquired, regaining himself. "Thank you for thinking so, but you can keep your pigmented cosmetics to yourself. They look better on you anyway."

"Complimenting me now? You're sure your noggin's alright, chap?"

"Don't 'chap' me, sweetheart. It makes me feel old."

"I thought you liked the seniority," you taunted. "'Being in seventh-year means the youngest look up to us' and all. Your words, not mine."

"You're a real ray of sunshine, aren't you?"

You gasped, clutching your chest. "How can you say that when the moon is out?"

"Oh, bother." He bristled. "You've shown greater concern for the moon's feelings than you have mine for the past six years. You wound me."

"That's because the moon listens. You never do," you pointed out.

"I do," he replied. "Only for things that matter."

"So, the camel-llama debate didn't matter?"

He ran a hand through his hair. "You're still on that?"

"I always will be. What muggle can't tell those animals apart? You should be ashamed."

"We were eleven!"

"Old enough for you to have admitted defeat, but no! You kept getting them wrong and saying you were right." He pinched his nose as you went on. "Then you started bothering me because you couldn't admit defeat. Now look at us. Six years later and I'm still right."

His eyes met yours, creased with an impending smile. "When we passed the hourglasses, Slytherin was ten points above Ravenclaw."

"You prat—"

Your head was thrown sideways as a flit of gold smashed into you. Your lip pulsed. Luckily, you had the mind to stretch your hand and catch the golden bugger.

The Snitch fought in your grip. Eventually, its wings tucked in. Then, a bated silence. Only for a moment. Lockwood snorted as you massage your jaw.

You gave him a nasty glare. "Not a word."

"I wasn't going to say anything," he lied. "Except, your lipstick smeared."

"Rowena..."

"Here, let me."

He sported a boyish grin as he reached across, mirroring your actions from earlier. You swatted him away and he simply laughed in response.

—

With your feet on the grass, you were glad to be done with your excursion; More relieved that he let you take the win.

You're not sure a bleeding lip was worth it though, but, at least, it was over.

After packing up the Snitch and putting away your brooms (plus making it seem like you two had never been there at all), you started the walk back up to the castle's medical ward.

Somewhere on the cobblestone path, Lockwood had drawn a curious notebook and quill from his robes. "So," he flipped to a page that had been sectioned into two, scored by stick lines. "What have I missed while I was bewitched?"

You eyed the notebook. "Is that... a tally?"

"Yes," he replied. "Now, what did I miss? I had one up on you before my memories went hazy."

"Just start a new one," you urged him.

Thinking of what you achieved while he was out of it was in the same league as winning a race against a slug. There was no fulfilment.

"C'mon," Lockwood cajoled, stepping closer to you. "I've been tallying since fourth year."

You raised a brow. "Fourth year?"

"The class on the Patronus charm inspired me," he replied. "Since we're always butting heads, having a tally made it feel official."

"How do I know you haven't picked your wins and excluded mine?"

"Have you no faith in me?"

"Do you want a real answer?"

He pursed his lips, earning a laugh from you.

"I respect you, you know. Even if you are the way you are," he told you, turning the notebook to show you the tally.

The first column was his score. The second one beheld 'vexation' instead of your name. The scores were neck-and-neck, save for the singular tick on his side that put him in the lead.

He quickly drew one more stick under your column, putting you two at a draw once more. "I'll count this impromptu Quidditch match, on the condition that you won't tell a soul that it was me who snuck out first."

"You must be dedicated," you chortled. "Just count from here on out. I haven't done much, honestly."

He quirked a brow, speaking slowly. "Are you sure?"

"Yes. Why are you talking like that?"

"Nothing. I'm just surprised." He closed the notebook and pocketed it with his quill. "You're usually more competitive."

"That's when I don’t spend an afternoon running for my life, Lockwood."

"You make a fair point."

You were making your way into the thresh of the castle now. The torches warmed the air, thawing the chill as you flounced forth.

There was a peace in the silence and a sweetness in the solitude. You felt Lockwood's hand brush yours and found that you enjoyed it more than you thought. Not that you would say anything about it.

You're not sure whether he caught on to the lilt of your lips before he threw his arm over your shoulders, just like old times.

This time, it felt different. The heat he let off was a juxtaposition to the bite of the night, and you found yourself melting into him even more.

You would have been fine in the quiet, but Lockwood had never been friends with it.

"George told me you were scheming to cure me. How were you planning to do that exactly?"

He kicked a pebble out of your way. You withheld the urge to smile.

"It was an amplified version of a regular love potion reversal. Same one we did research work on last year."

"What did you change?"

"Thrice the dose of rosemary and dried salamander. I also added a touch of pig tongue."

"Wouldn't doubling the wormroot do the same thing?"

"No," you scoffed. "That would expel the fragrance, but it wouldn't counteract the effects of the love potion."

"Doesn't the dried salamander do that?"

"Rosemary thins out the viscosity of the love potion and the dried salamander washes down the magic that messes with your thought process."

He smiled but there was no commitment in it. "Apologies, I'm no love potion whiz."

"Next thing you know, you'll be telling me crushed jasmine will cure insanity."

"I get it, sweetheart. That doesn't explain the pig tongue."

"I was hoping the horrid taste would wake you up from your delusions."

"I think it would have worked."

"It would have," you boasted, "if you had any sense in you to try."

He chuckled, apologising in smiles. Lockwood closed the distance by ruffling your hair. You waved him away, but that did little to stop him.

"You got the higher mark on that research paper," he recalled.

"I did." You glowed with pride. "As is always the case for Potions, and Transfiguration, and Charms—"

"What are you planning to do when we're done with Hogwarts?"

His expression turned dire, like he had been agonising over when to ask the fated question. It might have been a trick of the light, but his eyes glazed.

You considered his question for a moment. "I'm expanding into healing magic." Just envisioning how far your knowledge could go brought a smile to your face. "I'm good at the cardinal subjects for healing. I enjoy them enough to see myself heading in that direction."

"That's serious," he said, genuinely taken by your answer. "You have to be recommended by a professor to take on a role at a hospital or ward, don't you?"

You tried to keep your smile humble. "I already have a recommendation."

He tilted his head so you could see the surprise on his face. "Really? Who?"

"Madame Pomfrey. I'll be her apprentice next year. Hopefully, I'll move to St. Mungo's in a few years."

"Funny," he jested, bumping your hip with his. "What would she say to the bludgers you've batted at me?"

"Your insults about me are tantamount to nothing in her eyes. She adores me."

"Because you're a kiss-up?"

You stopped, jabbing a finger at his chest. "Because I have wit."

His lips lilted into that smile you knew so well. The right of his mouth rose higher than the left, short of turning into a smirk. "You have a lot more than wit, sweetheart."

Your heart did unspeakable things. For a heart-stalling moment, you forgot to say something back.

You looked at him, he looked at you. He was closer than you'd thought. Lockwood was unfairly dashing in torch light. Windswept hair, sweat on his brow, and everything.

He seemed to drift closer and closer, but it's you who inched forward. The lesser the distance, the more honest you felt.

His eyes dipped to your lips and—

A shriek, high and shrill, broke the spell. Both you and Lockwood leapt apart. You dusted off your cloak and he rubbed his nape.

The shrieking voice returned. "Dragon!"

Dragon?

You lurched for the entrance. You couldn't see much in the mouth of the castle. Neither could Lockwood, but you felt it. The buzz before the chase, the stacking of adrenaline and the thrill of trouble creeping up on you.

Your eyes locked with his, and you knew you're thinking the same thing.

When the winds of a Romanian Longhorn flattened the trees and blew out the torches, it was the flag at the beginning of a race. You and Lockwood were running for it.

—

You found that sprinting in the dark was akin to swimming upstream. You'd tripped over several roots and rocks, and you still haven't found which pocket you hid your wand in. It was a humbling experience, being in the throes of losing something with extension charms in your robes.

After furiously tapping himself down, Lockwood found his. He flicked his wand and yelled into the air, "Accio Brooms!"

"Why didn't we do that earlier?"

Lockwood flashed a smile. "We have an excuse to destroy the storage room door now."

You were on the verge of yelling. "How would we explain why we're out here?"

"Don't think too hard, you'll hurt yourself." He made another gesture with his wand before a glow illuminated from the tip of it — lighting up the path. "We'll cross that bridge when we get there, sweetheart. We have a dragon to catch."

As the Lumos rose in intensity, the path turned treacherous. The cobbled walkway was turning into pointed stones and angry branches. The trees began to move, contorting into all sorts of grotesque shapes and snares.

Lockwood had taken the lead, taking the brunt of their greedy clutches. You had to grab the back of his robe to make sure he didn't get snatched away by the foliage.

You would have buckled at the wooden stakes that bent toward you if your brooms hadn't snapped through their grappling, snapping inferior splinters before you found your grip.

The uptake was sharp, desperate to get away from the furious trees. You clung to your broom and swallowed down the urge to retch.

Lockwood, who had levelled beside you, looked fine. You would have thrown a rock at him if you weren't turning green.

He set a hand on your back, rubbing slow circles as he surveyed the area. You appreciated the gesture.

"It's heading for the Quidditch Pitch. If we get there fast enough, we can trap it there. Easier to manage in a controlled area."

"It's a dragon, Lockwood. It would burn the place down." You straighten up ever so slightly. "On top of that, it's a Romanian Longhorn."

"I know. Endangered species. We'll have to be cautious. She could turn us into a kebab." His lips tilted into a smile. "I wager we can tame her in less than an hour."

You exhaled the last of your nausea. A grin forming on your face. "Think half."

"Ambitious, aren't we?"

You flew forward, seeing the whiskers of fire curling in the distance. "Scared, serpent boy?"

There were flames in his eyes as he sped ahead, robes soaring behind him. "Never!"

—

"You distract her. I stun her," Lockwood prompted as soon as the Quidditch Pitch came into view.

Metres above you, the Longhorn huffed plumes of smoke down on you. You tried to be quiet, but you did have qualms with Lockwood's plan.

"You're the faster flyer, why am I the distraction?"

He pointed at his chest, like that was the answer. "I'm still recovering."

"That's rich!" You still haven't found your wand and the tosser was playing sick. "You dragged me out here to fly thirty minutes ago. Don't give me that."

"What? I can't hear you!" He veered further from you. "You're the most capable witch of our age. There is no one else I'd do this with!"

He was gone from sight before you could bump him off of his broom.

Then again, you'd rather die fighting than die a sitting duck. You angled your broom up, zooming into the beast's sight before it spotted Lockwood.

Its breath was sulphur against your skin, fighting the chill but lighting a spark of fear. Its pondering yellow eyes circled on you before its mouth creaked open.

"Lockwood, work quickly!"

In a dragon chase, one must remember three things: your size advantage, the dragon's breath hurt as much as its fire, and the dragon can and will play dirty.

You were an agile flyer, ducking whenever the strokes of its inner fire hurled for you, but even you had to exercise all of your flyer's knowledge to evade its claws. A swipe, a lick of flames, a swipe, another swipe — it was practically toying with you.

The only good thing that came with it playing with its food was the fact that you had lured it right where you wanted it.

The Quidditch Pitch was gargantuan compared to the juvenile specimen. You just hoped the place wouldn't go up in flames.

You hadn't seen Lockwood in a good minute, almost believing he'd shirked you, but then you glimpsed a flicker of serpent green in your periphery and ease up.

Before long, the dragon grew tired of the play and decided that she wanted to sink her teeth into something real.

You felt a nip at the end of your broom and zagged in the air. You steadied your mount before feeling your blood rush faster.

She was snapping at you. You chanced a glance and found the black in her eyes flattened to slits, hunger dancing in the embers of them.

"Lockwood!" you cried, narrowly dodging an eager claw. "Double time!"

"I found a soft spot! Give me a minute!"

"We don't have that much time," you surmised based on the increased momentum of the beast's strikes.

After a full turn-around to swing her tail at you, you dove. Nose aimed right down to the grass. You didn't even want to look back and see how close she was.

Gravity would be on her side but pulling up now could mean flying right into her furnace of a mouth. You didn't know which gruesome death was the lesser of two evils.

In the distance, you heard Lockwood. "Stupefy!"

The dragon nipped on your broom once more before you felt a tug on your robe. Your grip slipped, your broom flew in the opposite direction. Leaving you to crash and roll into the grass, ignoring the pain of carpet burn as you helped yourself onto your feet.

You didn't get far before your legs collapsed, your whole body weight crashing on your shoulder. You were never the type to go down without a fight. You kept kicking in a desperate attempt to escape the giant.

"Lockwood!"

"Wait for me!"

You felt its breath. Molten and fear-rushing, melting the hair on your legs as you watched your own reflection in its eye.

And then, its head hit the ground and its jaw lulled. Craning open but never snapping, just barely missing your foot as you pulled your limbs towards yourself.

The lines on Lockwood's face were deeper when you laid eyes on him. When he saw that you were alright, his expression flipped like a switch. A smile formed on his face, like you didn't almost lose your life.

He hopped off of his broom and approached.

"I didn't know you could look scared."

"I was almost a dragon's dinner," you spat.

You didn't fight him as he hooked his arms under yours and hauled you up. He kept an arm around you while the feeling returned to your legs.

He chuckled in a way that could make anyone believe he was faultless. "Sorry. It was a bother finding a soft spot. This big girl has pretty solid armour for a juvenile."

"That is the last time I ever follow your instructions. I knew getting mixed up with you was a death sentence."

"Yet," he chirped, brushing off the soot remains of the edges of your hood. "you're standing here, alive."

"I regret trusting you."

"No, you don't." He flourished a hand at the slumbering beast. "Just look at what putting your heads together did."

"It won't stay asleep forever," you whispered.

Just standing there, right at the alcove of its jaw, felt like standing on the tightrope of death. Suffice it to say, you wanted to be elsewhere.

You tasted the sweet, cool air as you replenished the oxygen in your lungs. Annoyance crept in as you realised that, despite your best efforts, you were still heaving. Adrenaline refusing to crest.

You tried to shove Lockwood but he had caught your arm. "Had to wait 'till the last minute, didn't you?" you nipped.

"I just told you, it's not easy to look for a chink in a dragon's scales. Be optimistic. I could have let her take your legs."

"You wouldn't."

"You're right, I wouldn't, but it's nice to imagine that I could be spiteful."

You snorted, trying not to flinch as the beast blinked its bleary eyes at you. "Let's put the big guy to sleep. Whoever takes care of him must be worried."

"She's a lady," Lockwood corrected.

You forced a smile. "My apologies, I didn't have the time to check in the midst of my near-delimbing."

"Easy mistake." He shrugged. "How about we tie up those loose ends?"

"We would've had it done by now if you stopped chattering."

"Last I checked, you were chattering back."

"You—"

The dragon blew out a warm breath, chilling you. You would've crumpled if Lockwood wasn't holding you up.

"Never you mind," you rectified. "You know the Sleeping Trance Charm, don't you?"

He balanced you on one arm, his hold snaking around your waist. With his free hand, he raised his wand at the dragon. "How to Pacify A Dragon 101. Of course, I do."

"Semi-circle motions," you reminded as the giant gold eyes blinked at you.

"I know that already, sweetheart. You know," Lockwood trailed off. His eyes landed on you. You ignore it for the sake of your already racing heart. "We make a pretty good team."

You allowed yourself a smile. "When you're not being insufferable."

"You always think I'm insufferable."

"So, you are self-aware."

"Oh, shut up." He didn't sound like he meant it.

The world must have been pitted against you, because the drowse in the dragon's eyes disappeared before Lockwood could even mutter the spell.

Its jaws widened, and Lockwood pulled you back just before they snapped. Half a foot from taking a chunk out of you and Lockwood.

"That's not good," Lockwood grunted. He accioed his broom closer. By how hard he was pulling you, you assumed he was trying to get you to clamber on as well.

That would be dooming the two of you. Being a singular target was like turning yourselves into a barbeque.

You pushed him away, catching the panic in his eyes for a moment.

You threw your arms out, signalling him away. "Go!"

Lockwood stalled, hand on his broom. "But—"

"Go!"

He mounted reluctantly. Taking off to grab the Longhorn's attention while you were squabbling for your broom.

When you found it, your worst fears were confirmed. The world really did want you dead.

Your broom was snapped clean in two after colliding with the base of the highest hoop. Mourning your trusted companion wasn't an option, because the dragon had spotted you. Its neck craned, rearing like a snake before it struck.

You tapped your pockets, desperate to find your wand. Not in that pocket, not in that one—

At long last, you fished it out of your most unused pocket. You pointed its end at the beast but a flash of green and silver disrupted your vision.

A tug on your arm and the feeling of rising winds brought you to the present. Lockwood had grabbed you and given you a seat on his broom, saving you from a very fiery end. The patch of grass you were standing on was charred to a crisp.

"Calm down, sweetheart. I can feel you shaking." His mouth was at your ear. You shrunk even more to hide from his view.

Your heart lurched as the Romanian Longhorn roared. You leaned closer to Lockwood, feeling the steady lub-dub through his shirt. It sang your anxieties to repose.

"We need a new plan," you told him, trying to keep your mind in one place. "I don't think she'll fall for another one of our two-person schemes."

"We're one broom down, so, how do you suggest we do that?"

You two watched as the Longhorn stretched its wings, kick starting your panic.

Lockwood leaned forward and tapped your leg. "Hold on tight."

Your hands on the broom fastened until your knuckles turned bloodless.

With renewed determination, he said, "We have to try the Sleeping Trance Charm again."

"While it's wide awake?"

"I'm sorry, would you like to ask her to sit and make it easier for us?"

You pinched his arm in response. The gesture was returned with Lockwood twisting his broom to have you two dangling upside down. One hand jutted out and grabbed Lockwood by the cloak.

"Lockwood, you prat!"

"Say sorry."

"You — Gah! Sorry!"

He smirked as he righted the broom.

Given a new perspective, you wheezed. "We have to do something before it burns down the whole pitch."

"We could summon the rest of the brooms," Lockwood suggested.

He flew higher as the Longhorn swiped for your legs.

"That would just make a mess. She can burn them. Then we'd have a bigger mess to clean up, plus a debt to whoever owns those brooms."

"Well..." Lockwood looked down at the dragon. "I could offer a special deal on pens to rack up enough pounds to pay it back."

"Pens?"

"A muggle writing device. Better and cleaner than ink and quill," he quipped. "I sell them to earn a few pounds. Don't give me that disapproving look, I gave you one for your birthday."

You reeled. "That's what it was? I didn't think 'pens' looked like that. They're supposed to be made of metal, no?"

"The archaic ones, yes. Now, there are plastic, ballpoint pens."

"Why are we talking about this? We can be turned into crispy bacon at any second now."

"Sweetheart, it's either we sacrifice the brooms or we turn into bacon, as you so nicely put it."

Your heart lurched. "My mother would kill me if we fell into debt, Lockwood. Thinking about it now, she'd behead me if she finds out about this mess."

He was genuinely perplexed by the fear that laced your voice. "I thought you were from a pureblood family."

"I am!" You trilled, sounding like you needed to prove something. "But things aren't that easy. Things are earned."

"They would understand. This is a life or death situation here!"

"No, I– Just– We can't."

"Okay..." He did his best to calm you down. It didn't help that he could practically feel the dragon's breath at this distance. "We ditch that idea. How's a firework charm?"

"Yes! Good idea."

You readied your wand. Only to stop short as silver-blue figures circled the dragon. It didn't take a genius to spot a patronus, a handful of them. You spotted a silvery cat crash into the dragon's side.

A non-corporeal patronus materialised at your side, speaking with the voice of Professor Flitwick. "Do your best not to use explosives. Her caregiver's orders."

More patronuses rose like shrouds of smoke and magic, disorienting the dragon in the midst of them. Some were fully manifested, some were faint — like they had been casted by a novice.

One look down confirmed your thoughts. Students and teachers alike were casting patronuses to keep you and Lockwood from turning into Dragon Dinner. Others were busy casting a large-scale protego to isolate the creature.

The Romanian Longhorn's only choice was to fly higher and higher. Lockwood followed, strategically hiding behind patronuses as they passed.

"You have your wand?" Lockwood inquired as the air began to thin. Breathing was a task you had to do consciously to stay awake.

"Of course, I do."

"This is our chance," he told you. He poised his wand.

You raised yours, too. "I'll cast a patronus to hide the glow of the Sleeping Trance Charm."

"Here's to hoping we keep all of our limbs."

He eased closer. You readied yourself, going through all of your best memories. You didn't go back to thoughts of your favourite books or your academics—No. Your mind kept circling back to your earlier moments with Lockwood: the sneaking out, the snitch, that moment at the threshold...

Blue sand trickled from the tip of your wand. Kicking up magic that twisted into the form of a crane. Your brows furrowed as you muttered the enchantment again, only for the patronus to stretch its wings and soar towards the dragon.

You threw a glance at Lockwood from over your shoulder. "I told you I would cast the patronus."

"You are," Lockwood quipped. He did a terrible job of hiding his smile, voice pressed like he was using the last of his air to say it. "That's your patronus."

"No, it's yours." Your tone lacked conviction, and substance — seeing as the crane did burst from your wand.

Lockwood chanced a glance at you, giving you a glimpse of that smirky smile that you'd recognize even in another life. "Have something you need to tell me, sweetheart?"

"Piss off," you said. You pulled his cheek forward, forcing him to face the winds of the dragon he was supposed to be charming. "Focus on what you have to do!"

"We'll get back to this."

He aimed at the dragon and muttered, "Dormitus."

Its eyes were locked on your patronus, following its path, unaware of its eyelids drooping and its waving wings slowing.

Slowly, the dragon began to lose altitude. Closer and closer to the ground as students and professors scuttled out of the way.

The winds dissipated as it laid its scaled head on the grass, finally quelled.

You expelled a breath you were holding in. Lockwood did the same, you felt his chest flush against your back as he laxed.

Lockwood landed a ways away and dismounted first, helping you off but never actually letting you go. Your connected hands dropped between you as you both took the time to calm your heartbeats.

A deranged laugh slipped from your lips. "If you weren't such a danger magnet, you'd have a promising future as an auror."

He looked at you, a confusing mix of disbelief and hope on his face. "You mean that?"

You shrugged with a lipped smile. Not even his habit of looking at the floor could hide his smile from you. You could see it clearly as the sun rose higher.

The moment of peace was interrupted by the furious shuffling of boots on grass. You raised your heads and spotted the unmistakable figures of Professor McGonagall, Professor Flitwick, and Hagrid.

"There you are." Lockwood said charmingly, casting a smile to match. "We were just about to come and ask what we should do about this—"

McGonagall called you both by name. Even you flinched at her vehemence.

"Why, I never!" She looked between you, clear aggravation carved into the lines of her face. "In all my years, I have never seen such a display of recklessness! You could have died. How could we ever explain that to your parents?"

You watched Lockwood's smile widen. A precursor to him saying, "Professor, with all due respect, my parents are dead."

Professor McGonagall was speechless, momentarily at a loss.

You took the chance to fill in the silence. "And I do believe Mr. Harry Potter has done worse."

Her eyes hardened as she wound her cloak tighter around herself. "I apologise for my earlier statement, Mr. Lockwood, but this kind of disobedience and endangerment cannot be tolerated. I expect you both to know where this is leading."

"Cleaning the toilets?" you two said in sync.

"Worse," Professor McGonagall looked quite proud of herself. "Detention."

You and Lockwood sobered.

"Professor, I'm a prefect," Lockwood reasoned. "And still in recovery."

"And I'm your best student," you chipped in. "Certainly, that means something."

McGonagall tipped her chin. "Then you'll be pleased to hear that the pair of you are the first to make it to detention with those accomplishments." Her tone turned frosty. "Friday evening. You know which room. Good day."

You were still reeling when Professor Flitwick motioned to his mouth. "You two should clean yourselves up, lest some misunderstand the smudges on your lips."

Hagrid flashed you two a friendly smile as you and Lockwood disconnected arms to swipe at your lips.

—

Detention didn't last too long. After a good three debates where you and Lockwood vaulted between being friends, being enemies, and being on the brink of committing murder, the kind, ghostly professor in charge let you free for his own sanity.

—

By the time you two returned to your regularly scheduled programming, Cai had been expelled and given a fancy room in St. Mungo's. Lockwood was properly compensated by the BOF company, and the pair of you received an additional fee to assure your silence. You gave your word, but one, James Potter, never made the pact. He reported the happenings to his father and promptly had the company shut down for misuse of magic.

Best wingman, indeed.

In the aurora of a half-realised friendship, you allowed Lockwood to keep his arm on your shoulder as a form of gratitude. He took every chance he got to practise his privilege.

He pulled you closer, practically nuzzling your hair. "You do appreciate me, after all."

"Barely," you replied.

The admission was enough to bring a smile to his face. If you got too soft, he'd assume you transformed into someone else entirely.

Lockwood, himself, had returned to his usual self; disputing you in class, outdoing your word counts, and (a recent development) stealing your quills to replace them with pens. How the professors didn't notice was beyond you.

You missed the banter and the thrill of the competition, but not the dingy smell of the DADA classroom. It was as pungent as always.

"Seventh years." The Professor's tone was different compared to the hundred lessons you've had before this. Dare you say she even sounded melancholic. There's a gaggle of students that laughed about it but she was more lenient, she said nothing to them. "This is your last year in Hogwarts and your last year under my tutelage. This year, we focus on practicality and efficiency. Using your knowledge against another witch or wizard."

She flicked her wand and the crowd parted, pulled in opposite directions by invisible hands.

Gasps rang out, friends clung closer to each other, and you grabbed Lockwood's sleeve when you were shoved aside. His arm dropped to support your weight by the small of your back.

You looked up and he was smiling down at you, the right side of his smile higher than the left. Familiar. Though, he was rather close.

You opened your mouth to complain, only to shudder at the sound of glass breaking. The chandelier above fell, and Professor proceeded to transfigure it into a glass cage of sorts.

She looked pleased with herself as the crystalline cage settled into a dome shape, resting both hands on her wand as she beamed at the parted crowd. "Today, we duel!"

You covered your ears at the sheer volume of your classmates' bellows. Several students looked forward to this day. They could finally let loose and cast spells like they were meant to. The girl to your right bit the end of her wand, looking a lot like a panther ready to lunge.

You grimaced and sent your prayers to Rowena Ravenclaw to save you from the hungry ones.

"Looking forward to it?" Lockwood asked, glueing himself to the spot next to you, chivalrously blocking you from the onslaught of moving bodies.

You could barely see him because the lights have been dimmed to bring all eyes to the duelling cage. You didn't know why you were even searching for his eyes in the first place.

"No," you finally answered. Your eyes landed on the cage, catching the faint veins of blue shift in and out of existence around it. Kind of like the webs of light at the surface of muggle pools. You would have missed them if you weren't squinting. "I aspire to be a healer. This is the type of thing I advise against."

He caught on to the magic, too. "Don't stress too much. The cage is enchanted to snuff out all malignant magic to avoid injury."

"How do you know?"

"That's a large-scale protego charm. Knowing the professor, she tweaked it to limit anyone who goes too far." He nudged your side. You heard the smirk in his tone. "Not bad for an aspiring auror, right?"

"Right," you agreed.

You didn't expect him to sputter. You shushed him when several heads turned your way.

"What was that?"

He patted down his robe, like it would help him collect himself. "That was surprise, sweetheart. I didn't expect you to agree with me."

"Are you suggesting that I'm unnegotiable?"

"No," he answered. "You simply... oppose me most of the time—all of the time."

"You're very easy to oppose. I just pick the choice that has a lower mortality rate. You always seem to be doing dangerous things, Mr. Lockwood."

"I'm Mr. Lockwood now, huh?" That smile again.

"Yes, you are."

"Could you call me that more often?"

His smile made you conscious. You crossed your arms over your chest, like that would protect you. "Why?"

"I like how it sounds," he replied. "I'd do just about anything to hear it again."

"Hm..." Your eyes drifted to the sparks of spells being swished back and forth. The cage turned into a mirrorball. "Win your match."

Lockwood drew himself up to full height, rolling his shoulders back with a confident grin. "Easy."

"Really? Easier than being love-spelled by a fangirl?"

Your stomach turned. That's how you knew you'd said something wrong. Your stance changed. You almost hit yourself for saying something so uncalled for.

He opened his mouth to defend himself but the Professor's voice cut through his.

"Anthony Lockwood and James Potter versus Daria Thomas-Finnigan and..." She dragged the silence on, smirking as she finally uttered your name. Professor Loathes-Your-Guts clearly, still, loathes your guts.

The room divided into two once more; those cheering for Slytherin and Gryffindor, and those cheering for Ravenclaw. The energy could rival that of a Quidditch match.

"May the best team win," was Lockwood's cold farewell. He was gruff and unjesting—a complete departure from his usual visage that it scared you. He had never been so forbidding to you, even as rivals.

He and James entered on the right wing, and you and Daria entered through the left. The circle under you lit up blue. The Professor's magic gripped you, encompassing your whole body.

Lockwood had been right. Professor kept strict tabs on everyone in the cage, and you regretted stepping in when you looked across the way.

Both Lockwood and James were ready to kill. It was an exaggeration, but you'd never seen either look so deathly competitive.

Daria's hand on your shoulder reeled you back to the present. She graced you with a smile. "Gryffindor might have good fighters but we've got something better." You were tempted to say 'female anatomy' but she spoke over your thoughts. "We've got brain."

You drew your shoulders up and gripped your wand fiercely. You faced forward as the Professor yelled, "Start."

⚜ PART 2 | SERIES MASTERLIST

SWEETHEARTS ➺ @kiyasoup @toddandersondupe @locknco @onecojg @avdiobliss @mentallyillsodapop @mitskiswift99 @mischivana @bella-rose29 @wordsarelife

⌠ @novelizt 2023 ⌡

#— ❨ 🌺 ❩ 𝐋𝐈𝐙𝐙𝐈𝐄'𝐒 𝐔𝐓𝐎𝐏𝐈𝐀 ₊˚.༄#lockwood hogwarts au #anthony lockwood x reader #lockwood x reader #anthony lockwood x you #lockwood and co fanfiction #lockwood and co x reader #lockwood x you #anthony lockwood fanfiction #anthony lockwood angst

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genshin-scenarios · 4 months

Text

A Flower Made of Playing Cards (Lyney x Reader)

Summary: A highschool idol AU commissioned by a very kind and patient anon!

It's mostly inspired by this headcanon post, where Lyney spends his civilian life starting to pine after you (a classmate) while keeping his idol life as 'Felis' a secret.

Content warnings: reader is implied to be at a height where Lyney can spin them under his arm?? That's pretty much it! Still gender neutral as usual

Preparing for the Stage:

When Lyney was first asked what he wanted to base his idol concept on, he decided on the magic of luck — something unpredictable and frankly, he wouldn’t bet on most of the time — but if a black cat of all things could disguise itself as a charming magician who made dreams come true, Lyney thought that could be the truth threaded within his performances.

His luck in gaining a family as supportive as his own. His luck in being chosen out of many candidates to debut, and…

Suppose a bit of rotten luck could play into his concept too. The kinds where props or staff go missing on the day of his nationwide tour, and miracles come into play to get him out of a tight spot.

But like a cat landing on its feet, Lyney — as Felis — would always come through in the end with a smile.

There is comfort in the mysterious and ethereal. The audience places their faith in idols to remain as an untouchable being, talented and charming till the end; while the idol repeats their tricks and illusions, learning them down to a science of well-orchestrated plans.

With the right people to support him behind the curtains, Lyney is sure there is little he can’t do.

But at the end of the day, Lyney is still just a teenager. And when faced with you, who’d unknowingly puppeteered his heartstrings to skip at the quirk of your lips, eyes crinkling with laughter from your seat a few rows away…

No one said that stars couldn’t fall in love. In fact, the ways they do so might be more beautifully devastating than ever. And Lyney is nothing if not someone who burns as brightly as he shines onstage.

On the other side:

You’ve always thought of Lyney as a regular classmate; one who gets along with others but otherwise keeps to himself. And sure, he’s also really cute, but Lyney’s always just been a nice presence to hang around with, especially after you learned he has a knack for magic tricks and was willing to teach you a few, skilled fingers sifting through a deck of cards.

You’re starting to think that Lyney’s not just a friend to you anymore.

Despite your best efforts to keep your feelings at bay, you’re more than aware that the nerves building up in your stomach whenever he’s near spells out a crush. As you get to know him, Lyney’s somehow went from cute to pretty, and you know you're not crazy when you notice his quiet charm shifting into something more extroverted.

There are no seating plans during the breaks between classes — particularly if it’s this week, where your science teacher has packed off to accompany a sports team to a tournament — so you spend the hour finishing your substitute work with Lyney by your side. Except once you’re both done, he takes to scrolling through his phone and showing you the posts on his feed every now and then, and you swear his chair has been shifting closer and closer every minute.

With quiet words, Lyney leans towards you with a quirk to his lips. You wonder if he realizes how dangerous this is to your wellbeing.

“This cafe’s menu is themed after wizards! See the cauldron?”

“Maybe you could get a part-time job there as an entertainer.” You suggest.

Lyney hums. “But I only like to perform magic for my friends. Which totals to three people, including you.”

“Are the other two Lynette and Freminet?”

“Bingo!”

“I don’t know if your sister would be happy to hear that.” She’d probably say he sounds like a loner.

“Nevermind if that makes her cringe — she’s stuck with me anyways. But I’d like to think at least Freminet would be happy.”

“He’s a sweet kid,” You try not to get distracted by Lyney’s hair tickling your shoulder. “Maybe you should take him there with you.”

“Just between us, I think Freminet would be more comfortable if you were there too.” Lyney shrugs, eyes meeting yours with a clarity that tells you this is a genuine offer. “He’s a bit more chatty around you, which is saying a lot.”

“Maybe that’s just because you’re too much for him?”

“Whatever do you mean? I’m nothing if not quiet, introverted, shy…”

“Shy.” You repeat in disbelief. You might’ve believed that once upon a time, but certainly not now. “A shy person wouldn’t offer to teach a stranger how to do card tricks.”

“Maybe I was just enchanted by you.”

“You avoided me unless we were talking about magic.” You remind him, to which Lyney bumps his shoulder against yours with a huff. “Maybe at that time you were a little shy, but I highly doubt you’d be like that towards your brother.”

“I’ve let you talk too much to my siblings…” He’s pouting. “Your impression of me is ruined now.”

“There’d be nothing to ruin you with if you haven’t done anything.” You tap your chin. “Is there another big secret that I should ask them about?”

You don’t notice, but Lyney’s eyes widen before he tears his gaze away from you, trying to stop the blush rising on his cheeks. If he wasn’t sitting so close, he’d probably slap his face to snap out of it.

Which secret? His crush — or idol career?

Just the thought of you knowing about his feelings is enough to make him combust, but the idea of you realizing he was the idol Felis? You’ve already told Lyney you weren’t that interested in idols since they were real people, compared to 2D characters who you could headcanon about to your hearts’ content.

A part of him is relieved this means that if you fell for him, it’d be for himself. But another part feels like it’s a waste of the possibilities floating around his head; what if he surprised you by inviting you to a concert, then watched as the understanding enters your face when he steps onstage? What if he dedicates one of his performances to you, or asks you to sneak out with him after a show?

He’s even wearing just one side of his earphones so there’s an opening to offer you the other; it’s less about the music at this point, and instead the little gestures that tell him he has a chance.

He’d take any interaction if it has to do with you, but only within the safety of his own home would Lyney allow himself to daydream — his imagination causing a burn on his cheeks.

Lynette tells him he’s been reading too many mangas, but an idol can dream. Lyney just hadn’t expected you to become one of said dreams so fast.

Rehearsals:

Somehow, practicing how he’d confess to you is harder than any other rehearsal Lyney’s done. Perhaps it’s because he knows he looks like an idiot, speaking to the wall-length mirror after he gave up on Lynette and Freminet as helpers.

…The things he’d like to say to you remain private, anyways. There’s no way Lyney could bring himself to sound so sappy to anyone’s face but yours.

Seeing as it’s off-season, the only idol work Lyney has is related to magazine and advertisements shoots. It’s nothing much compared to when he first did an overseas tour, so he has the chance to steal some time for himself — going for a coffee run after he dons a mask and large sweater, then a cap which hides most of his hair.

Today Lyney had to model for a limited-edition pocky series. It’s strawberry and something-flavored, so the dress and makeup people had the bright idea to add a ribbon to his hair. It’s fanservice, it’s cute, and Lyney doesn’t think much of it seeing as he can’t see himself, until he spots you outside of the cafe where he’s waiting for his order.

He’s always been light on his feet, but Lyney doesn’t think he’s ever ducked into a corner so fast, quieting himself in an attempt to become invisible.

You haven’t seen him without his glasses before, so maybe you wouldn’t…?

“Order for Felix!”

Of course it’s his turn now that you’re here. He considers taking off the ribbon before thinking better of it, hoping it isn't visibly poking out from underneath his cap.

“...Here!” Lyney tries not to cringe as he goes up to the counter. On most days he gives the cashier a random name — sometimes ‘Felix’ because it could be his idol alias read wrongly — but right now it almost gives him a heart attack when he hears his not-name, because it’s followed by you accidentally bumping into him and apologizing for almost spilling his coffee.

“I’m so sorry! Are you okay?”

“It’s alright, nothing’s spilled.” Lyney realizes too late that you might recognise his voice, and starts to speak in a muffled tenor. “No worries at all. Thank you for your concern.”

“...Felix, was it?” You look at him in confusion. “Is your throat okay?”

Before you can look at him any closer, Lyney’s turned away from you and started to speed-walk out of the cafe like his life depends on it.

“Perfectly fine, enjoy your day!” He says a bit louder to not appear too rude. He’s quite sure his ears are red as he makes his retreat, and by the time he makes enough distance between himself and the cafe, Lyney realizes something.

He didn’t even get to hear your coffee order!

Back to your side:

Out of all strange incidents that could happen over the weekend, you didn’t expect an encounter with some ‘Felix’ guy to linger in your mind until now.

To be honest, it was less about the stranger and just the ribbon you spotted in his hair when he ran away. As you listen to Lyney ramble about a magic trick he’s figured out recently, you watch the way his ash-blond locks sway with every motion.

…That pink ribbon from the stranger's head might look cute on Lyney. With how the breeze is playing with his hair, you can imagine the ends of the ribbon floating, threatening to fall loose and fly off the school rooftop you’re loitering at.

Lunch finished and forgotten, Lyney stands up as he’s reminded of something. He spins on his heel to look at you, hands linked behind his back.

“You know, over the weekend I saw a dance go viral.”

“The one on tiktok?”

“Yep! Want to try it?”

Lyney’s not usually this energetic, but it’s not so out-of-character that you’d start to find it odd. Instead, you’d like to preserve the easy smile on his lips while you still can — it’s a rare sight to see him this excited, steps light and gaze playful.

“I’m not a good dancer, though…” You hesitate, before Lyney comes closer to pull you to your feet with both hands — and how could you say no when your fingers are still loosely linked between you?

Lyney’s cheery demeanor slips into something more calm. With a content hum, he takes a small step away from you and positions his feet. You mimic him as he explains each move.

“Okay, so now you have to do a turn from this side.”

“How should I when you’re still holding onto me?”

“Like this,” Lyney urges you to turn, and as naturally as momentum brings you, he lets go of one of your hands to twirl you under his arm. “See? It’s easy!”

“I’m quite sure the dance didn’t involve a partner.” You can’t keep your smile down, peering up at Lyney when you stand in front of him again. “Trying to set a new trend, are we?”

“Only if you’ll let me record us. I won’t post it anywhere though, since my manager might get mad at me.”

“Your manager at work?” You ask, confusion furrowing your brow. “Did you accidentally sign an extra clause or something? They shouldn’t be able to control how you act outside of your shift!” Lyney bursts into laughter, earning a light hit on the shoulder from you. “Hey! This is serious — what kind of part time job did you get yourself into?”

“I wouldn’t say it’s a regular side-gig.” Lyney calms down, expression dusted with a pink blush as he looks at you fondly. “I’m a bit of a public figure, though I don’t normally dress that way when I’m at school.”

“Well then, Mr Popular.” You play along. “What should I be calling you instead then, when I see you during your job?”

“...Most people call me Felis, if that rings any bells.” He glances away. “It’d be pretty embarrassing if you didn’t recognise my name. But I do have to sing, dance, and…”

“You’re an idol.” Your eyes widened, the words spoken so quietly, you had to repeat them just to make sure they didn’t slip away. “You’re that idol, aren’t you? The sparkly-looking guy on the billboards!”

“Not so loud!” Lyney hushes you, grabbing your shoulders in reflex before stopping. He clears his throat, taking a step away. You would’ve minded the distance more, if it were not for the sight of Lyney bashful in front of you. “...It’s a bit of a secret, just so I can still live peacefully as a civilian. I asked Lynette and Freminet to make sure no one could overhear us here. They might be as nervous as me about your reaction, I’m sure.”

“I find that a little hard to believe.” If anything, they might be more worried about Lyney recuperating. You speak tentatively, raising a hand to tuck a strand of hair behind his ear. “Now that I’m checking properly though, you do have the same look.”

It takes everything in Lyney to not squirm at your touch, and it’s even more terrifying that he wants to keep you there. “I would hope so, seeing as we’re the same person.”

“I bet Felis doesn’t spin his fans under his arm,” You quirk a cheeky smile. “Unless there’s something else you have to tell me?”

“Of course not, that’s only reserved for the best of…” Lyney trails off, the word ‘friend’ dying on his tongue. Not that you aren’t one, but— “I thought it’d be important to tell you about my job, before I ask you the real question I have on my mind.”

Giving him a nod, you tell him you’re all ears.

“...If you’re free next week, would you want to go somewhere together? As a date, I mean.” He lets the question sit in the air. “I understand if not, of course, whether it be because you just see me as a friend or find the whole idol thing too much—”

“I’ll make sure I’m free.” It takes a moment for your answer to register in Lyney’s head before his eyes light up. “Rather, you might have to make sure I don’t mess anything up for you. Like… should I call you by another name? Do I also need to wear a disguise?” If you had a net right now, it’d be very helpful in catching the butterflies in your stomach, to keep you focused on what you’re saying.

Just you would be perfect. “As long as we dress casually, it should be fine.” Lyney’s smile is contagious, now that he’s settling into the fact you said yes. “Sunday afternoon?”

“Sounds good!” You’re cut off by the bell. Remembering that you have PE and haven’t changed yet, you curse under your breath and quickly apologize to Lyney. “I’ll see you later— or text, if not!”

By the time your sentence ends, the door to the rooftop has shut, and Lyney is left standing with the tiniest of smiles, looking at the ground to try and control his expression before his siblings can bombard him with questions.

Lyney has never felt nervous while singing love songs before, but his manager recently commented that he feels younger than usual. Like an actual teenager in love.

It checks out, considering how fast his heart races when he starts to associate lyrics with you. Gone is the Felis who shines like an untouchable star, and here enters an idol who might just be human.

He enjoys it, as afraid as he is at the same time. To place one’s heart in the hands of another is terrifying, but he’d rather it be you than anyone else.

…But maybe you shouldn’t attend any of his concerts for now. He doesn’t know what he’d do if his brain short-circuits at the sight of you within the crowd.

His own little secret within a sea of people entrusting him with their dreams — what a thrilling thing indeed.

Speeding up:

After that day, you noticed that Lyney has loosened up more around you — in a way that means he’s more likely to smile and cling to you during conversations. If he had cat ears, you can imagine they’d be standing proud every time he managed to fluster you, watching for every micro-reaction as if his career depended on pulling that expression from you as he might with a crowd of adoring fans.

Except you think that Lyney’s adapting to this too quickly. How is it that he was the nervous one that day at the rooftop, but has been going on the offense ever since the next morning?!

Lynette apologized to you in advance, telling you that once Lyney has his eyes on a goal, he’d be merciless in trying to charm your heart. You just didn’t think it’d affect you this much, though that might have more to say about how quickly you’re falling rather than Lyney’s approach.

Every time Lyney calls your name and decides it’s time to hang around you like sunshine to a flower, you’re reminded of the clips of Felis you’ve watched after learning of his job. It was a mix of curiosity and puzzling out what Lyney’s other side might be like…

But god, does he have to constantly sport a smile like that? You find out through a promotional video that the coffee shop stranger actually was Lyney, and the ribbon does look very cute in his hair.

It’s a shame you’re only seeing the whole design through a screen. And even worse is the way he’s blowing a kiss to the camera in this one music video—

“What’re you watching?” Lyney’s hands rest against the back of your seat as he leans to look over your shoulder, prompting a panicked noise from your throat. You fumble with your phone, flipping it over so he can’t see. The little smile Lyney’s wearing tells you he has an inkling, but he does you the favor of not spelling it out. “Must’ve been a pretty good video if you didn’t hear me coming over.”

“You snuck up on me!” Sending him a glare, you power off your phone protectively. “...And if you must know, I was just listening to a song.”

“Can I hear?” Despite his playful tone, Lyney does give you the space to deny him as he adjusts his glasses. “But of course, I understand if you don’t like to share headphones.”

“I don’t mind, but there’s something else I’m wondering about.” You tilt your head up to peer at Lyney more closely, reaching a hand out to graze against his fingers. “Are these real?”

“My hands? I’d hope so.”

“Your glasses.” You retort quietly, trying not to roll your eyes. “Despite how I had to make a reality check about you too, I do know in fact that you’re real.”

Lyney laughs, raising a fist to his mouth. “You flatter me. But to answer your question — yes, these are actual glasses. Though the prescription isn’t too bad, so I only wear contacts if needed elsewhere.” With a serious pause, Lyney meets your gaze. “I wear these to school though, because I need to look at the board from behind and admire you clearly.”

You prop your chin against your palm. “I’m starting to think you’ve gotten too flirty recently.”

“Would you believe me if I said I’ve been holding back?” He hums, pulling a chair to sit beside you and mirror your pose. “I wanted to make sure you were comfortable with me romantically at first, but after that…”

“...You’re lucky I find you cute.” You sigh in jest. “At this rate, you might wear me down before we even go on a first date.”

“There’s still a lot about myself I’d like to share with you.” Lyney quietly admits. “I just hope we’ll be able to talk with more freedom. And if you decide you still like me after that — I suppose I’d feel like the luckiest guy in the world.”

The softness in his words somehow hits you harder than his previous flirtations.

It’s me who should be feeling incredibly lucky.

Rather than one persona being more genuine than the other, you were starting to understand Lyney’s balance between the schoolmate you knew and the charming idol onscreen.

You see the truth of his smile underneath the blinding lights and exchanges in the hallways; the adorable way he fiddles with his pen during class versus his confident choreography.

It’s all Lyney. You just have to learn more about him and put his trust to good use.

He’s not the type to pull just anyone into his world, after all. Lyney has always held back just a little, so as to not let his secrets show from behind the curtains to even his familiar friends.

And now that he’s allowed you in, how could you possibly take his excitement for granted? You’d be lying if you said you weren’t looking forward to it too.

The date:

When Lyney greets you at the start of the date, the last thing you expected is for him to sneak a pink rose into your hair in place of a bouquet.

He claims it’s more discreet, especially considering the way he’s dressed with a mask and hat to hide his features, glasses also present. Despite these, Lyney is expressive enough that it doesn’t affect your conversations, and you allow him to take your hand as he leads you to the aquarium. It’s lunch time, so you’re going against the regular flow of people and enjoying the exhibits while it’s less populated.

Beneath the walkway tunnel where various rainbows of fish swim by, you gaze up in wonder at the shadow of a shark passing through.

Fontaine is nothing if not abundant in sea-related attractions, even if the main city is on land. You haven’t visited this aquarium since you were a kid, so it was nice to relive traipsing through a world washed in soothing, gentle blue.

“I think when we were younger, me and Lynette would talk about catching these fish if we were allowed into the tanks.” Lyney muses. “Perhaps that’s why our father says we’re like cats.”

“If we were in the wild though, catching fish for dinner would be a pretty good idea.” You gaze up. “But… if I was able to breathe underwater, I think I’d just spend all day escaping my troubles.”

“Would you have space for a partner in crime?”

“Only if they’d be able to help, by whisking us away from pursuers, for example.” You smile when Lyney starts swinging your hands lightly between you. “It’s stressful business when I have to worry about two of us getting caught, instead of just one.”

“I’d take the heat so you can get away first.” The conversation is childish, but Lyney’s sentiment makes a frown pull at your lips.

He’s confused when you stop walking and turn to face him. “No self-sacrifices! We either run together or get caught together. Nothing in-between.”

Something flickers in his eyes before he replies, tone warm. “Alright then. I’m at your mercy.”

“A bold claim, when you surprised me with this in my hair.” You point towards the rose Lyney’s managed to secure to your shirt with a pin, after his initial sneaky reveal. “...I’m just trying to make sure you’re not the only one giving between us, but it’s hard to keep up with all…” You gesture vaguely at him. “This.”

“You just signaled to all of me.”

“That’s right!” You huff, crossing your arms across your chest. Lyney resists the urge to reach out and entwine your fingers again. “You’re too pretty, and nice, then I find out you can sing and dance too—”

“But I like surprising you.” Lyney chirps back, a laugh in his voice as he notices the way your face is darkening with a blush. He does you the service of hiding this from passersby — if any actually entered the walkway now, empty as it is — with his hands cupping both of your cheeks. “Maybe it’s because I’m a workaholic, but I want to make sure your eyes are only on me.” It’s the most dangerous thing he could say to you, in public or not. “So maybe I should apologize for dragging you into my selfish whims.”

“...But you don’t intend to stop.” You say, feeling lightheaded.

“Of course not.” Lyney hums, eyes bright with a smile. “There are a lot of stars to compete with in the night sky.”

And you said we're in this together, did you not? It's not the first time someone's told him he doesn't have to do things alone, but… it means a lot, coming from you.

“I hope you don’t say this to all your fans,” you sigh, relaxing into the softness of his palms. They’re smooth, and you realize Lyney’s always felt a little warm to the touch.

“You’re a fan?”

The lilt in Lyney’s voice tells you you’ve made a mistake in your choice of words. He’s much, much too happy that a previously-disinterested person like you has now seen enough of his idol content to make such a slip.

“A fan of Lyney Hearth.” You try to salvage your pride, gaze trained onto the ground.

“Oh… I see.”

Lyney’s eyes widen before he catches himself, suddenly glad he’s wearing a mask for a different reason.

God… What is he going to do with you?

After attempting to feed penguins, seals, and exploring the open pool where you’re allowed to touch reef creatures, you and Lyney make a beeline out of the aquarium and towards the main shopping street, where many cafes are abound.

Since you were working against the usual rush schedule, you managed to grab a seat at a local favorite which also served meals; corner of the cafe and out of sight.

The meal passes by without issue, and next you browse some stores nearby while slowly heading towards the park. You were in a hobby shop when a group suddenly exclaimed the name Felis, causing Lyney to flinch and pull you with him behind a shelf.

“Oh my god, they do have idol stuff!”

“Yeah, but we already have this! It’s not new merch, y’know.”

Lyney lets out a relieved sigh, slumping against the shelf of comics. “Nevermind, false alarm.”

“Are you always this jumpy?” You whisper back, resisting the urge to look around him and see what said Felis merch was as the group moves to another end of the store. Lyney doesn’t seem to realize his arms are still wrapped around you, and that if you simply tilted your head a little, your faces could touch.

“Only because I’m more distracted today.” With you. “It’s nice to know that people are having fun though. My manager would classify that as a good review.”

“Yes, but also, um…” You clear your throat, causing Lyney to finally turn his head and freeze at your proximity. “Not that I mind, but you’re still holding on to me.”

“...Am I too close?” He sheepishly asks.

Yes.

“Not at all.” You swallow your nerves. “But if the staff find us like this, we’re definitely going to get kicked out.”

One shared crepe and a walk in the park later, you reach a quiet area hidden between the trees that’s lit by the evening light. Lyney explains that he and other trainees would often come here to hide out and practice choreography together, when the training rooms became too suffocating. In hindsight, he’s quite sure this spot had eventually been bought out by their company, seeing as they never ran into any press or strangers here.

“We’d prop our phones on water bottles and record ourselves, since there was no mirror.” Lyney recounts. “It was mostly to catch our mistakes, but some managers encourage us to pretend we’re doing vlogs too, to get used to presenting our personalities to the camera. Whatever does get uploaded is screened, though.”

“Do you still have those videos?” You’re sitting on a bench, legs crossed and facing one-another. “The ones that didn’t get posted, I mean.”

“...Maybe? They’re really embarrassing though.” He chuckles, and almost moves to take off his mask before he thinks better of it. “And I think I only did those to update my family on how I was doing. They don’t believe my words entirely when I say I’m fine.”

“You are too good of a talker, so I’d be wary too.” You laugh, glancing up at the sky. The clouds are parting for purple and orange. “I think once upon a time, I might’ve dreamed about doing something creative too. Like singing, fashion, or etcetera.”

“Not every interest has to be placed in the public eye.” Lyney takes off his hat, giving you a wink. “Guess what’s inside.”

“A dove? More roses?”

“Take a look.”

Once you lean closer, Lyney raises the cap to shield your faces from one side, then pulls his mask aside to block the other. It’s over in a moment, but he brushes his lips over your cheek, and the one image that clings to your mind is the blush adorning his face and the clear look in his violet eyes.

Eyes that are trained on you — holding your attention until something flickers in the corner of your vision, and Lyney reveals a rose made of playing cards.

You look down to check for the flower pinned on your shirt: no longer there, and presumably transformed by Lyney’s trick of the senses. He allows you to take the handcrafted rose with a satisfied smile.

“I was nervous it might’ve fallen apart after walking around all day.” He admits. “It’s not as romantic as a regular rose, but I hope it holds its charm all the same.”

It’s very him. Lovely and careful in the ways he opens up his petals to you, but hiding a puzzle of spells underneath.

“It’ll last a lot longer, too.” You smile, storing it carefully to take home later. “How long did you spend on preparing that?”

“What do you mean? I transformed it in a second.” He muses. “Besides, I don’t want to spoil the magic. It took a lot of practice, but normally just with an audience that looks at the hat, instead of…” Lyney trails off, clapping his hands together as if to signal the next topic. “I can teach you to fold a flower like that though, if you’d like.”

“In the library as usual?” You allow the shift in conversation, if only because unlike Lyney, you do not have the solace of hiding your expression behind a disguise. “I’m starting to wonder if your skillset will ever be exhausted.”

“Well, I’m quite adept at interviews, modeling, and learning things by sight.” For his idol work, he means. “But I will admit I’ve been curious about baking. Maybe one day we could try that together.”

“Collecting points in more categories, I see. Maybe you can teach me how to dance, too.”

Lyney surprises you by swinging his legs off the bench and standing. He gives you a little bow, a glint in his eyes as he extends a hand towards you. “One of Felis’ you mean? I could do that now.”

Right now?!

“Don’t you trust me to?” Lyney pouts. “I’m a good teacher, I promise.”

“M… Maybe next time?” You’re not too sure, suddenly feeling intimidated by the idea of proper choreography. By instinct, you still take Lyney’s hand and get to your feet. “I need to mentally prepare— Whoa!”

Before you can finish, Lyney’s spun you around and lowered you into a dip, hands supporting you at your back and waist. He keeps it shallow and helps you back up — lips quirked as you’re suddenly pulled closer to him with the momentum, bodies and faces inches apart.

His pupils are dilated.

Your indignation quickly forms into surprise. There’s a quiet tension surrounding the air — a question asked, and your hand reaches up to take off Lyney’s mask in reply as he steals your breath away straight from your lips.

You’ve been wondering when you’d finally get the chance to stop his honeyed words with a kiss.

After you get home, you find a playing card that Lyney’s slipped into your pocket. On it is his familiar scrawl, and a few simple words:

‘Thank you for today. Love — your number 1 fan.’

You get a feeling that this wouldn’t be the last time you exchange messages upon a suit of hearts. Maybe you’ll start investing in a deck of your own, just for him.

#genshin lyney x reader #lyney x reader #lyney x you #lyney x y/n #genshin x reader #lyney genshin impact #genshin x you #lyney x gender neutral reader #genshin reader insert #genshin writing #genshin impact imagines #genshin scenarios #genshin fic #traveler wishes

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dragonmurray · 1 year

Text

Poisoned Truth

Loki x female reader

Triggers - smut, 18+, mild angst

Description - hydra had poisoned the team with a love drug. What will you do when you’re the only one without a lover?

————

You were screwed. No two ways about it. Death was coming for you. The irony in that phrase.

A simple mission with the Avengers turned out to be a trap set by Hydra. Tony, Nat, Clint and you headed over to a warehouse thinking you would be collecting some valuable intel on the latest leader to step up in Hydra. It was too late when Tony detected the gas in the building, you were all infected.

The flight back in the jet was spent scanning, researching, testing everything possible to work out what they had poisoned you with, but 5 minutes in to the flight you were starting to realise.

Tony was desperate to get to Pepper, Nat to Bruce, and Clint to his wife. Desperate with need. Overwhelming, soul crushing need. From the little Tony could gather the Hydra drug would drive them to madness, boil them from the inside out unless they found their completion with the one they love.

Hydra were placing their bets on no Avenger being able to find true love. They would lose that bet, for the most part.

You however? Agent y/n l/n? You had no such love. Not that anyone knew anyway. You made it back to the tower, the others running to their loved ones for some life saving alone time. You slowly stumbled back to your room, a thin veil of sweat starting to cover your body. Alone.

You closed the door to your room and sank down to the floor. A weird kind of acceptance seeping in to your brain. So this is how it would end. Thwarted by the one enemy you could never defeat, love and orgasms. How poetic. You weren’t a virgin, you’d had your share of partners, but every one a disappointment. No man had ever taken the time to learn your body, to relish in your pleasure instead of their own. You’d never known pleasure from another.

An ache in your core starter and your mind drifted to the man you had dared to hope would have changed that. A secret hope he could never know of. He, a God, could never lower himself to the standards of a mortal. Sure you spent most of your free time together. Reading, playing tricks on each other to pass the time. You were one of the few to get him to open up and on some occasions, laugh. But he was also quick to tell you of his lineage, his power, his birthright.

You were just y/n. A basic mortal with some killer fighting skills. Nothing more.

A knock on your door had you jumping and groaning at the same time as the heat flared in your body.

“Agent?” Loki called “agent you need to let me in”

“Go away Loki, you can’t be near me. You can’t see this. It’s fine just go” you replied. Keeping your voice as flat as possible in the hope he wouldn’t care enough to stay.

“We both know that’s not true. I’ve seen, and heard the other return. I know something is very wrong now let me in” Loki sounded aggravated. So he wanted to know what happened, good for him, he can read about it later you thought.

Shivers were starting to run down your spine. His proximity not helping your situation. You may not be ready to admit your feelings for the god, but clearly your body knew. It was getting harder to form coherent thoughts so you didn’t bother to respond to him. Resting your head back on the door you closed your eyes as pain started to deep in to your limbs.

“Agent!” An urgent voice right in front of you. You open your eyes to see Loki knelt in front of you, his eyes taking in the sight of you. Dazed, hot, your breathing increased.

“How, how are you here Loki?” Tony restricted his magic in the compound while he earned his place in society.

“My dear y/n. If you think there is anywhere in the nine realms I couldn’t reach to get to you, you are so very mistaken” he reached a hand forward to cup your face.

“NO!” You shot up and tried to back across your room, anywhere to get some distance from him. His proximity was sending your body into overdrive. Your mind couldn’t comprehend his words. Was this the drug? Making you see and hear things? “Loki you can’t be here. The mission went wrong. Hydra, drugged us. It’s bad. I can’t… you can’t…” your eyes fluttered and your legs faltered as a wave of heat came from your core.

In a second Loki was beside you, catching you as you fell. You cried out as his body made contact with yours. Part pain, part desperate need. Loki couldn’t wait any longer, his palm touched your forehead and he dove in to your memories. A sigh escaped him as he realised why you were trying to escape him.

“Y/n, I am here. You have nothing to fear. It would be my honour to stay with you, foolish mortal” a smile tugged his lips “I will not stop until you are cured, and I can’t guarantee I will after that either”

Your eyes fluttered open as you tried to take in his words. “I…” that was all he allowed before his lips crashed in to yours. I’m an instant heat burned through you with the power of a thousand suns. No pain, just need and fulfilment. This is what you needed. He is what you needed.

A moan escaped your lips as fingers caress your scalp, tugging your head to align you more perfectly with his mouth. His sinful, achingly beautiful mouth. You could come apart right now. A tiny voice in the back of your barely functioning mind started to whisper dark thoughts, telling you this wouldn’t work. No one else has managed to pleasure you fully, you’re broken.

Loki couldn’t sense your hesitation. He needed to silence it. After months of yearning, never daring to risk their treasured friendship, he finally had you. Upon seeing the state of the other avengers on their return he knew he had to find you. He couldn’t lose you.

His mouth left yours and blazed a trail down your neck, stopping to nip and suck at your pulse point, pulling a ragged moan from your throat and silencing all voices in your head. Your fingers dove in to his hair and pulled him closer. Still half collapsed in to each other on the floor he picked you up. You wrapped your legs around his waist and ground in to him as moans spilled from your lips. Loki intended to lay you on the bed but it was too much for him. He slammed you in to the wall, teeth latching on to your neck as his hand found your hardened nipple beneath your suit and rolled it between his thumb and finger.

You cried out, core tightening as you felt yourself close to cumming already. Gods how you wanted him, needed him. You had never felt like this before. He groaned as his hips rocked in to you. “Gods y/n, you feel perfect against me. I need to touch every part of you, taste all of you” with a wave of his hand your clothes melted from your body. “Perfection” he said as he looked down at you, still wrapped round his waist. Your head back and eyes closed in pure bliss. The pink tint to your skin brought him back to reality, he needed to save you.

His hands gripped you tightly as he spun round and placed you on the edge of the bed. With no time to think about your new position he dove between your thighs, mouth latching on to your clit and sucking hard. The force of it slammed in to your nerves and had you screaming out, back arched in pure pleasure. You had never felt anything close to this before, even from your own hands. His attack on your clit didn’t let up as he slid 2 fingers into your pussy, curling to find your spot and pumping relentlessly. You couldn’t think, couldn’t breath, not enough air in your lungs to even scream out as an orgasm ripped through your body with enough force to bend your backwards.

When you finally came down you gasped for air. Your foggy brain trying to work out what happened, how it happened. Blinking back to reality you looked down at Loki still sat between your legs looking at you with awe in his eyes.

“How… how did you do that? Is it the drug?” You asked.

He looked at you confused. “I’m unsure what you mean Y/n. Has no one done this to you before?”.

You shook your head. “Not like that, no one’s ever made me cum Loki” you looked away and started to try to cover yourself from embarrassment. He took your hands to stop you. As he did another wave of heat started to build, the drug wasn’t done with you yet. You whimpered and Loki realised your pain.

“Mortal men cannot comprehend the goddess that you are Agent. It seems you have been waiting for me for far too long…”. He climbed up your body, his hand sliding into your hair and…..

And I’m a really mean writer! Do I carry on?!

#loki laufeyson #loki #loki friggason #loki smut #loki odinson #loki x reader #loki god of mischief #smut #love potion

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ssparksflyy · 8 days

Note

helllo can you do just a fluffy jason grace x reader athena that wanted to make her crush fly please something simple thank you;)

ask and thou shall receive ༉‧₊˚.

levitating ✶⋆.˚

pairing: jason grace x daughter of athena!reader warning(s): lowkey ooc jason word count: 810 a/n: ty for requesting! heres somethin short n simple for ya ♡♡

when asked to fly by other campers, jason usually had no problem with it. if they asked him to do it for help, he'd quickly do it, happy to help them. if they just wanted to see him fly, he'd float just a few inches off the ground and even pick the kid up if they wanted to. he usually was happy to fly for other campers.

usually.

you'd made a bet with him. you bet that you could somehow trick him into flying without being asked. being a child of athena, who was pretty good at coming up with plans, you felt pretty confident in yourself. but jason also felt confident in himself. learning how to say 'no' was something jason had gotten used to lately, and he believed that he would be able to avoid any tactic you used to get him to fly.

the rules were simple. you try to make jason float, he tries not to. if he flies in front of you, because somebody else asked him to, it doesn't count. if he flies in front of you for any reason that doesn't involve you asking or doing anything to make him fly, it doesn't count. you also weren't allowed to say that something dangerous was happening, cause, that just wasn't fair.

it was wednesday when you'd made the bet. you had until friday afternoon to make jason fly.

honestly, you hadn't thought it would be as hard as it was. a part of you hoped jason would fall for something simple, but he was surprisingly good at avoiding your attempts to make him fly. you tried things like throwing something at him super high, so he'd have to fly up and get it, but he simply just let it fall to the floor. you tried putting unavoidable things in his way, but that's when you found out jason was a great jumper and was up to taking a longer route (freak).

you even tried pushing him off the rock climbing wall, but turns out he was also good at that too!! seeing him beating all of your attempts was only fueling you more ( and draining your brain ).

it was friday morning when you came up with an plan that jason was sure to fall for. you'd convinced a tree nymph to put your sword at the very top of her tall tree, and called jason over. yea it was kinda of desperate but hey, so were you.

once he walked over to the tree you pointed up at your sword, "got stuck."

he gave you the most deadpan look you'd ever seen, "literally how does that even happen?"

you shrugged, "can you help me?"

he rolled his eyes and just as he was about to fly up, he stopped. instead of doing the easy thing and flying up he walked over to the tree and started climbing.

"youre joking." you said, watching him climb up the tree.

holy shit hes got a fat ass

jason had somehow managed to climb up to the very top of the tree, grabbed your tree and climbed down, all without getting knocked down by the nymph. traitor.

he jumped down a few branches high, landing right in front of you.

"i believe this belongs to you, m'lady" he said, holding out you sword with a cocky smile.

you grabbed the sword for him, muttering a small "thank you"

"aw what's wrong? bird brain mad she couldn't trick me?" he said, moving closer to you, "better think of something quick cause your times running out."

you paused for a second, unsure of how to respond. your eyes flickered from his eyes to his lips, an idea suddenly crossing your mind.

you grabbed jason by the collar of his shirt and kissed him. when you pulled away, you looked down at the floor and smirked.

"i win" you whispered smugly, still holding onto his shirt.

"huh?" he asked, his voice cracking and cheeks flushing.

you let go of his shirt and took a step back, motioning your head towards the ground. jason looked down, confused. he was floating a mere inch off the ground.

"you start floating whenever you get surprised." you said, grinning.

"what?- i- huh???" he said, confused out of his mind, "wait- so that's what the kiss was for??"

"in the moment, yea. but ive also been waiting months for you to do it, so i thought i'd take matters into my own hands" you said, a smile slowly forming on your face.

"damn, months?? you should've told me" he said, smiling, "can i make it up to you?" he took a step closer to you and placed his hands on your hips.

a giggle escaped your lips as you slung your arms around his neck, "of course, sparky."

he closed the space between you with a sweet kiss.

a/n two: i was fr like 'huh i feel like ive seen sparky somewhere besides jason' its my url. bffr. n e wayz i hope u enjoyed this nd have a good day/night !!

peace from manhattan,

percy jackson ♡

#percy jackson #pjo #heroes of olympus #pjo x reader #heroes of olympus x reader #hoo x reader #jason grace #jason grace x reader #percy jackson x reader #by bells ♡⋆ ࣪.

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sharpedgedfool · 6 months

Note

i fucking love your monster au design for shadow could we have some lore abt him? (if you want to :])

Apologies for the essay I'm about to drop for your ask jddfgsdkgf, but here's a sketch as a peace offering and I'll drop all the lore I have for you under the read more! Glad people are interested in it cause I'm currently obsessed with it lmao

OK so basically Eggman in this universe is still the mad doctor type, he’s just obsessed with the occult instead of robotics. He’s a mortal human but hunts monsters for experiments and he’s obsessed with gaining supernatural powers to rule the world, and Sonic and Amy with their usual group are his main enemies.

He has a big following of humans (who think he’s trying to save them from monsters) and a rather large army of other monsters who work for him - so he has a ton of resources despite being a 'regular dude', and he’s slowly collecting spellbooks and teaching himself magic.

He finds a rare grimoire, and it unlocks a treasure trove of dark magics. Now his big master plan is to summon a demon to serve him and gain ultimate power, to do this he needs the seven emeralds for the ritual.

Sonic and Amy are the main hero duo in the story, Sonic was cursed with lycanthropy as a child when a pack attacked his village, he was spared because he was young, and went to find a witch in hopes of a cure. The witch he found was Vanilla, her daughter Cream, and Amy who is her apprentice. Before Sonic could be cured he made friends with a few other cryptids who live in the same woods and in the end decided he’d rather stay cursed with them as he had nowhere else to go anyways. He’s not in a traditional pack (all were-creatures) instead they have a rag-tag group with all kinds of different monsters that live with the witches (Tails and Knux are in there somewhere I promise jkfgdhdf). He likes having the werehog strength so he can fight back and protect his new family.

Rouge is a born Vampire, not turned. Her parents were killed at some point and she took over their coven after she avenged them and proved herself worthy. She’s like the Queen of sorts and rules over a majority of the vampires across the world - she has eyes (and ears) everywhere, there's very little she doesn’t know about. So Sonic and Amy ask her for help when they realise Eggman’s planning something big. She has a huge hoard of gems locked up in a big spooky cliffside castle, she’s obsessed with treasure still. She agrees to aid them to overthrow Eggman in exchange for the seven emeralds for herself. She doesn’t want to use them for their power, so they agree.

Everyone teams up to find the emeralds first, but Eggman outsmarts them, and the ritual begins before they can stop him, and once it’s begun it’s irreversible. The only thing they can do at this point is change who the demon is bound to, so Sonic throws himself into the curse (he already has one after all).

Shadow is the demon that’s summoned. Typical demon pacts imply that he’ll do whatever the summoner asks, granting them ultimate power, but he’ll get their soul in return. The catch is if Sonic never asks him to do anything, he’s technically not indebted and Shadow won't get his soul. It’s a game of temptation, but since Sonic was technically an unwilling participant, Shadow's more intrigued than anything - he’s confident Sonic will eventually cave and ask him for something (they always do) so he doesn’t attempt to trick him, he sees no need.

Sonic now has a demon chained to him constantly, and he’s extremely on guard (demons are as powerful as creatures get in this universe) and he’s off put by how genuine Shadow comes across. Shadow asks a lot of questions, and Sonic assumes he’s doing it to learn how to manipulate him - Shadow finds it amusing. Eventually they get used to each other, Shadow and Rouge get along well (though they both tease Sonic mercilessly together so he tries to avoid her but Shadow will nag him to visit) Amy tries to work on a spell to break the bond between them but it's a notoriously hard spell to break (perhaps impossible as they destroyed the grimoire in the fight with Eggman), but eventually Sonic and Shadow are both unsure if they want it to be broken at all…

Sonic starts asking Shadow questions too, and finds out more about Shadow. Originally he was an angel - thousands of years ago he had a mortal friend (Maria) and the two of them were inseparable. Unlike demons, angels rarely interact with the world so her village mistook her good fortune as witchcraft and assumed Shadow to be a demon. They killed her over it, and Shadow was heartbroken - in a fit of rage he lashed out, wiped out their town and proved to them he could be the demon they thought he was. He became a fallen angel, scorned and bitter - not born of pure evil but clearly capable of carnage all the same.

Unlike hellborn demons, Shadow doesn’t enjoy mindlessly committing atrocities - he has to feel it’s a necessary evil or he’ll turn it on his summoner (this makes him dangerous to summon, he’s normally considered off-limits). He’s one of the more powerful demons but he’s hard to reason with to make it worth it. Eggman targeted him specifically because he thought Shadow would side with him as Maria was a distant ancestor of his.

Once the annoyance of being forcefully summoned wears off, Shadow’s rather pleased Sonic isn’t trying to use him for anything - he’s secretly happy to have someone with decent morals to hang out with (he’s an outcast in hell for obvious reasons) but he’d refused to make mortal contact with anyone willingly after Maria for fear of resigning them to a bad fate all over again.

Again thank you for reading!! I'll have more art to share soon!! :)

#ask #monster au

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yandere-wishes · 9 months

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Hello! This is the same anon that gave the thalassophobia idea, and I have come back with another one!

I would imagine that Yandere! Lyney would probably be a people-pleaser, especially when it comes to reader. He would try oh so hard just to get even a single reaction from them, using whatever new trick he could come up with. Of course, the only reaction that he ever gets is either just an unimpressed or annoyed one. Eventually reader starts to hide or just walk away whenever he comes near them, not wanting to deal with another one of his tricks. Reader just wants some peace and quiet! Is that so much to ask?

You can call me 💠☔ anon if you want.

Another excellent prompt 💠☔anon!! I had a whole mental debate about whether to make the reader pyrophilic or pyrophobic.

Lyney is giving me clingy Yandere vibes. He's so desperate for his darling's love and affection but seeing as how they don't even know he exists at first he'll settle for their acknowledgment at the very least. It shouldn't be too hard right? He's an excellent magician, a few card tricks and rabbits popping out of his hat and he'll have his darling swooning all over him...right? except it's not that easy, nothing ever is, he should have learned this lesson by now. His darling is more annoyed than amazed. Complaining about how the bunnies are running her new designer dress and how she's already seen street magicians do those card tricks. It breaks Lyney's heart, his darling is just so spoiled and insensitive. As a final attempt, he tries a trick using his pyro vision and to his surprise his darling is terrified. Eyes wide open, precious tears falling from her eyes. She's scared of the pyro element. And you can bet that Lyney will take FULL advantage of that. Very soon after a few tragic incidents involving the roaring flames of the inferno, and poor spoiled darling losing everything in the blaze. She has no choice but to seek refuge with Lyney. Lyney is kind, a sweet darling boy if you will. He'll gladly let his darling stay with him and his sister, he can even be his new/second assistant. Just behave and fawn lovingly over the trickster boy and there won't be any more fire-related incidents...

#💠☔ anon #anon asks #genie answers #fontaine #lyney #yandere Lyney #Lyney x reader

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smileycarat · 8 months

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delulu thoughts: jun ver

so we all saw the trailer huh?

imagine that irl

well kinda, but more soft?

i do believe that jun would be more carefree with giving with his affection toward you

the switch between being friends to a relationship was pretty seamless between both of you

your friends only caught on that you had taken the next step was that you were both now exchanging kisses in greeting instead of the regular side hugs

jun is so sweet when it comes to take care of you

if he’s the first to wake up, expect there to be some sort of breakfast for you being made, whether or not it’s a piece of toast is not the question (it’s the thought that counts)

when you both began sleeping in the same bed long before you became a couple, you invested in a sleeping mask for him

you had the scare of a lifetime when you turned to your side and were face to face with him sleeping with his eyes open

immediately, the first thing you did the next day was buy a sleeping mask for him djdjkd

he just laughed at you

if you wear his shirts to bed, i can imagine him putting on an article of clothing of yours, no matter how it looks on him

he WILL strike a pose or two

he’s just so silly sometimes really

this man always knows how to make you laugh

i imagine him being the PERFECT wedding date

he will be the first to suggest matching outfits

will buy you that one accessory that you stared at a second too long without a doubt

he is nothing but a gentleman to all your relatives

the kids in the wedding LOVEEE HIM

he is not afraid to get his clothes dirty while he lets your younger cousins chase him across the field

always comes back to you though

sits as close as your chairs will allow during the dinner

and slow dances with you

you can bet all your money that everyone wants a dance with him (you’re proven right when even the bride asks for a dance with him) (he gives you one of these looks •_•)

he is totally the type to teach you phrases in languages that you don’t know

however, he does trick you with a few curse words here and there but that’s like a given with learning any language

one of my favorite things ever about jun is that despite how silly and goofy he can be, he is just so caring too??

i could see him being the type to stay up with you while you finish up on a paper, regardless of how tired he is from being in the dance studio

whenever he’s away for work, he always makes sure to bring you a souvenir from wherever he goes as well as his favorite snacks from that place

fans are familiar with you already because he’s not too worried about keeping your relationship a secret

i mean he has a picture of the two of you as his lock screen for goodness sake HAHA

when it comes to his turn for his speech after his members at an event, he keeps it simple with a “this is for you, i love you”

fans went CRAZYYY for the way he smiled at the camera (sheesh me too tho)

fans have had a few interactions with you when they run into you in public, and they always say how you’re so nice and how you would even offer to take a picture of them with jun

(jun was flabbergasted when fans then asked him if he could take a picture of them with you (he obvi happily did so, even suggested group selfie of all of you))

(the picture went viral)

on your birthday, he buys you the cutest small cake that is enough for the both of you

and he wakes you up by singing happy birthday as he carries the cake in

it becomes a tradition to begin birthdays with eating cake for breakfast together in bed

taglist:

@fandems @minmingsstuff

#seventeen #seventeen headcanons #seventeen x reader #seventeen jun #seventeen junhui #seventeen wen junhui #wen junhui #jun #delulu thoughts #embabbles #seventeen x you #seventeen fluff #seventeen imagines #seventeen drabbles #jun x reader #reader insert #svt x reader #x reader

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ghostflowerhotpotch · 10 months

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Do you have any more Ghostflower/Gwiles headcanons 👀👀 ?

Hehe, I haven't done more of those for awhile haven't I? Okay, let's see.

Miles actually, ended up doing a painting of Gwen for his Studio Art classes; he has done so many drawings of her that it came almost naturally for him, and his teacher found the painting so beautiful the teacher begged him to let be on display on the academy. Gwen eventually saw the paint, to Miles embarrassment, she just said she thought it was cute. In reality she felt her heart melt at seeing the portrait of her in warm colours, sunflowers, and with a smile and a glow so beautiful she was in awe at the knowledge that yeah, this is how Miles sees her.

Gwen actually started taking classes in Spanish after she came back to her dimension in the first movie; I dig that headcanon I had seen around that she likes languages in general, but she got a tad curious after meeting Miles. She works extra hard after the fiasco that was meeting Rio and Jeff; she actually ends up having a better pronunciation than Jeff to the amusement of Miles' parents. (Jeff learned Spanish for Rio, no idea if this is canon or not but it is for me.)

Miles and Gwen at some point develop a tradition of trying stuff from their own dimensions; all started with Miles being curious about the difference between his Kola-soda and her Bepsi. After awhile, both Gwen and Miles made an habit to keep handy the snacks the other likes from their respective dimensions (Chocolate covered pop rocks for Gwen, plantain chips seasoned with pimenton de la vera for Miles.) They didn't even coordinate for it to happen, they just caught on the fact once after a difficult mission, Miles offered the chocolate and she the chips.

Miles can dance, if only enough to not make a fool of himself in the parties (Rio's idea, not son of hers was going to be moving uncomfortable while Chayanne is playing on the dance floor.) Gwen will deny it until she is blue in the face, but her brain became mush while Miles was showing her to dance salsa. (Sidenote, I think Gwen is better dancing alone, while Miles knows how to move better in a couple's dance.)

Remember in ATSV when they are swinging around New York? They do that a lot, in both of their dimensions; they like to chase each other and try daredevil tricks while laughing as the world around them doesn't exist. It has gotten into a point that there video compilations of them doing this, a lot of with the title of "Spidey dance" or "Spiders in love" because even a bystander doing a video can see the way they go after each other has mean to something else. Gwen's dad is the one who brought her attention to one of these videos, one of the most embarrassing moments in her life.

These are a few! Hmm, maybe I should try one of those OTP memes or something, I bet it would be fun with them.

Hope you like these!

#ghostflower #gwiles #miles morales #gwen stacy #atsv #across the spiderverse #headcanons #ghostflower hcs

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msmargarita · 10 months

Text

✨🤓Johnathon/🕳️ Spot Headcanons✨

These are some headcanons I wrote for my two fics:

i'm not going to turn into a cosmic anomaly and leave you forever

and

i'm really serious this time, baby

It has !!spoilers!! for both of those fics!

It's basically an AU unless I somehow foresaw the future and guessed what happens in BTSV!

Beware the keep reading button. This is HUGE.

🤓 Johnathon HCs!

HE IS A GEMINI. Like come on. Talks a lot, nerdy, silly guy. He is a canonically silly guy! In his first fight with Miles he pretends to have hurt his nose (he doesn’t have one) to trick him. So silly! I would bet there's Capricorn somewhere in there too. And Pisces. I’ll make this man’s whole birth chart if you dare me. Just dare me. I’m insane.

Jason Schwartzman used to be in a band in the 00s. I think it would be cool if Johnathon also had some sort of interest in music. I think he would have tried to learn guitar in college but only got a few chords in before life got too chaotic and every now and then he thinks of picking it back up.

He is also one of those guys who fanboys over old ass music, especially from the 60s and 70s. Loves Jazz, Funk and Prog Rock. Look at this man and tell me he is not a prog rock guy. He is a nerd, he might even be *shudders* a math rock guy. I also think he would have one completely random favorite artist that has nothing to do with the things listed above, like, idk Lizzo. Or Princess Nokia. He just looks like the type.

I think everyone agrees Johnathon is at least in his thirties, but I put him down as thirty-three in the end. I did that because Olivia is thirty-five tops in ITSV (according to Peter) and since he was her subordinate it makes sense that he would be just a little bit younger than her.

“But hey! That's too young to get a PhD!” you might say, but I think Johnny is an overachiever. I think he was one of those super genius kids that got in early in college and lived for academia. A teacher's pet even.

He is a workaholic, so when he quits his job he gets really lost and doesn't know what to do with himself. He might have a new job soon doing what he loves, so you’re going to need to be on his ass so he doesn’t fall back into his old habit of overworking.

I like to think that Miles would get an internship under Johnathon a few years in the future and they would learn a lot together. Jonathan would probably take a week to figure out he is Spider-Man and would cover for him when the boy needs to disappear. This actually sounds like a fun drabble to write about.

Johnathon may be a genius, but like he said, he is not too familiar with relationships. I think he might've had one or two in the past, but everything slowed down when he started working at Alchemax. “I’ve been told” is referring to those past relationships, in which he was probably told that he works too much and never has time to spend with his partners. He’s not been with anyone for a long time and his game consists of buying the first comic book he saw on a shelf in order to ask you out.

But that doesn't mean he is cold. Quite the opposite really, Johnathon is very touchy-feely. He hasn't been with anyone for a while and misses touching and being touched. He is most comfortable when being at least 70% curled around you.

He smokes Dunhill Carltons (he likes to feel fancy), but less now that he isn't as stressed from work. Like he said, he used to go on walks to smoke and pass by the comic book store you work at before you guys had even met. I like to think he developed a little crush back then.

Had his tattoos done in college, so they are very faded now. He doesn’t think of redoing them because the mere thought of having to stay seated for hours in the same place feeling pain stresses him out. He was a lot more easygoing when he had them done.

He did have a superhero phase when he was a kid. He would fantasize a lot about having superpowers and flying away when the bullies showed up. Never thought about fighting back. Before becoming the Spot, he wasn't the confrontational type. The hero thing fizzled out as he grew older, but he would always dream about being stronger. Being a better version of himself in a kinda superficial, but understandable way.

He still has a bunch of action figures, he thinks they look cool. If you give him one, he won't even care if he knows the character or not, he just likes them.

Even though Johanthon says he is “good-looking”, he does add “for a scientist” in the end. I think he tries to mask his insecurities with humor, always putting himself down with a joke, always saying he’s too old, too corny, too nerdy. In the back of his head he knows the hair and the glasses are kind of a look, but he doesn’t feel handsome. You help as much as you can, but that’s an obstacle for him to overcome by himself. I think after i’m really serious this time, baby he gets better at this.

🕳️ The Spot HCs!

For clarification: the story of i’m not gonna turn into a cosmic anomaly and leave you forever stretches the plot of ATSV to a few weeks instead of a day. Just think of it like Spot taking a little longer to power up instead of a few hours.

Since he was forced to do crime to survive, I think he would've thought to himself: "Well, since I have to go rob a store anyway, might as well be that one where that cute cashier works at."

Yes, Spot starts tracking and following you after you two meet. He uses his computer nerd powers for evil. A very unhealthy way of dealing with a crush, I think.

Spot can eat but he doesn't get any nutritional value from food. When you drink wine together or when he burns his tongue (?) from tea it's just a placebo effect. I like to think that Johnathon's mind is still inside The Spot's body, so he eats just for habit. He says he gets hungry all the time, but it's actually a deep need to consume everything around him. The little rascal.

As he powers up, Spot gets more confident in himself. He thinks the stronger he gets the further away he gets from Johnathon, his old self. Which, in the end, turns out to be true.

I think at first you don't really believe Spot is an actual supervillain which is why when you see him after the fight in Mumbattan it's such a shock. In a way, you did the same thing Miles did when he underestimated him, even if for whole different reasons. I think even though he knows you care about him, Spot knows you don't see him as a threat and that makes him want to impress you more.

Spot knows that the reason you keep getting new jobs is because his own crazy supervillain life keeps interfering with yours, so he tries to keep it as much hidden from you as possible. He thinks what you don’t know can’t hurt you! As Johnathon, he feels guilty at first that you’re changing your whole life to go with him to New Jersey, BUT this time it was your choice! Not because of supervillain shenanigans!

He does love you (even if it was too early to know) and wants to be with you, but his head is so lost in the supervillain game, he thinks he can’t stop now. You never really realized how serious he was about “being stronger”. Which is why you never tried to stop him.

I chose I’d Rather Be With You as a theme song because I think it’s a song Johnathon/Spot would enjoy. But I also like how the lyrics match both their feelings towards you, in both fics. He wants to fly away with you once he gets all powered up, he loves your smile, etc. He does want to be your friend until the end as the Spot, but as Johanthon he is really committed to work on his bad habits in order to be with you. We gon' make it this time, baby! I cry, damnit.

It’s also a surprisingly gender-neutral song, with no physical descriptions in it! Anyone can put themselves in the lover's place. Bootsy Collins is cool like that.

I like to think that, in the end, Spot didn't erase himself from the timeline. He just reloaded an old save. Does that make sense? Like you said, your relationship will always have happened, just in an old, non existent dimension. And since Johnathon and you still get dreams and deja vu about the whole thing (think of it as dimensional residue or whatever), you do have all the EXP of the old save. Johnathon, after going through the literal end of all existence and then forgetting about it, feels something compelling him to finally take a chance and enter the comic book store. It’s like when your body goes through something and it remembers later, even if your mind doesn't. Here's a (hopefully) comprehensive timeline:

the end.

Thank you for taking an interest in my weird AU! I would kill for you 💖

#can someone please make a ready to hole shirt and mail it to me #spot #spot x reader #johnathon ohnn x reader #bagel guy x reader #reader fic #the bagel effect #spider man: across the spider verse #reader insert #headcanon #AU

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rwrbficrecs · 6 months

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Halloween Rec List Part 1 🎃👻

Here's the first part of the Halloween recs! Part 2 will be posted late November to cover all the new fics still coming out @halloweenhuh is currently posting works from their Halloween/Autumn themed fest, so be sure to give them a follow! Here's a link to their collection on AO3 🎃 Fics themed around Halloween and Autumn/Fall vibes 🍂:

but i can count on you to tell me the truth when (i’ve) been drinking and you’re wearing a mask by @anincompletelist

mistaken identities and halloween kisses

Halloween Calamity by @itsthemxze

Alex and Henry throw a Halloween party, but Alex has some strong opinions about Henry’s costume

Leave him Hen, he's a spice hater by greenandmoss

Alex learns to love the Spice Girls because of Henry's thighs

Lost and Found by milowren

Alex and Henry are coworkers, Henry has a crush, and they end up at a haunted corn maze together a few nights before Halloween. Shenanigans ensue! Plus many horror movie references.

love bites by @coffeecatsme

Alex leaves love bites on Henry's neck right before a public Halloween party. The solution? Vampire costume.

stars by the pocketful by weather_stained

Though Henry opts out of June's Halloween party, Alex makes sure he doesn't spend the holiday alone.

The Last Day of October by ifigo

A reflection on Henry’s relationship with October 31st over the years

This Is Halloween by @bibliothesoph

Their first Halloween in the brownstone goes...not according to plan

Trick or Kiss by @hillerskas

Alex is throwing the Halloween party of the year and can't quite figure out why the Prince of England is haunting his every thought.

Where There Are Octobers by @iboatedhere

31 Days of October themed FirstPrince prompts

For more spooky vibes! Fics featuring ghosts/vampires/demons/other supernatural & mythical beings etc 👻🧛🏻:

A Love That Haunts the Land by @14carrotghoul (necromancy & other supernatural things)

Falling in love is the easy part. The supernatural consequences - not so much.

a slightly hysterical vampire fantasy moment by @cinnamoncoffees (vampires)

Alex doesn’t really think Henry is a vampire. He’s just his roommate. Because vampires aren’t real… right?

A Taste of You by @everwitch-magiks (vampires & other supernatural beings)

When Henry lets Alex take him home, he thinks he’s the only one who’s about to reveal his true nature. He’s wrong.

Ghosted by @tintagel-or-cockleshells (ghosts)

the fic where people are ghosts until they're not, dead until proven otherwise, and we take bets on how thin the veil is between the living and the dead.

Got a ticket for two by @clottedcreamfudge (demons)

Henry likes his apartment - he has done since the day he moved in a year ago. His flatmates themselves? Well, they're a little… strange.

(lord, save me) my drug is my baby by @coffeecatsme (vampires)

5 times Alex learns something new about Henry and 1 time Henry learns something new about Alex.

matchmaking from beyond the grave: a guide by arthur fox by @softest-cinnamon-roll (ghosts)

Alex can see the dead. Enter Arthur Fox who really thinks Alex should meet his son, Henry.

Out For A Bite by @everwitch-magiks (vampires)

He's heard whispers of this place, and more importantly of its patrons. He thinks he knows what this man is.

the beagle, the ghost and the wardrobe by @dumbpeachjuice (ghosts)

Henry’s new flat comes with one unexpected feature: it’s already inhabited. But not by a human. By a ghost.

🎃🎃🎃

#halloween #vampire #ghosts #supernatural beings #rwrb fic recs

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heisenberg-simp257 · 7 months

Note

Spooky month is right around the corner! You know what that means! Halloween with the Heisenberg family. I wondered who dresses up as who. Karl learning about Halloween and what trick or treating is? Lol probably no trick or treating but i at least see some candy apples being made for the kids as a treat…and the twin boys playing some tricks.

I love this idea!! For reminders, Annalise is the daughter's name and Felix and Konrad are the boys. I hope headcanons are alright! Happy Spooky Season everyone~💖

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

Halloween with the Heisenberg Family

-To be honest, he's never celebrated this holiday in his life. This goes back to cultural things as Americans celebrate a little differently than some European countries. That said, Heisenberg (just to be a little shit to Miranda) has done a deep dive on all things that resonate outside of the village.

-It should be no surprise that Heisenberg loves the horror aspect of Halloween.

-There's still a lot of that he doesn't "get" such as a lot of the "childish" aspects of dressing up or trick or treating and stuff like that. He's more into the actual horror aspect.

-You can bet that he has a secret man cave where he hides all his old American Halloween movies that you guys watch for the whole night of the holiday. If you get scared, you can bet that Heisenberg will hold you close for protection. It's his favorite excuse for cuddles.

-And he might throw fits, but you are getting Halloween decorations. Whether it be DIY or through the Duke, you are making sure the place is festive. While the thought of decorating makes him scoff, he can't also help but find it endearing.

-This is the most you guys would do, and then the children came.

-You would make sure that they learned all about your holidays, Halloween especially. They would get to learn alongside their father! Heisenberg is still trying to understand all the silly stuff you do. It's not just all about being spooky.

-It's about treats as well! And dressing up!

-You would definitely be persuasive enough to have him participate in the kids making things like candy apples (he doesn't see the appeal). But you do catch him sneaking a few, much to the dismay of Annalise.

-But he will definitely steal some pumpkins for all of you to carve. Honestly, it would probably become a contest to see who could make the best one. The kids might end up just drawing pictures on them, but maybe Heisendad will carve something for them.

-You and the kids also convince him to dress up. The kids are all for it, especially the boys, who dress up as something together. Annalise dresses up like a princess or something, stereotypical for a young girl. You dress up as (custom of your choice), and you manage to convince Heisenberg to do that as well.

-If he has to, he picks something on the lines of evil scientist. It's hard for him to think too much outside of the box.

-Also, mad respect for Donna as she made all the costumes by hand per your persistence and begging. She wants at least one candy apple out of this.

-Felix and Konrad love the spooky aspect of Halloween too. They run around in their cute little outfits and try to scare both their parents and sister. Mostly it involves jumping from around corners and yelling "Boo!". They only got scolded once or twice, and it was because they ventured too far into the factory, really startling their father.

-Cue the night ending with watching fun Halloween movies.

-Heisenberg embraces this holiday like it was always a part of his heritage. But now he's not just doing it for him, but also for his children. Some people always mark Christmas on their calendar, but Heisenberg marks down Halloween.

-Also, scaring the other lords is a must. Maybe lighting Mother Miranda on fire. Who knows.

#resident evil #resident evil village #resident evil imagines #resident evil village imagines #resident evil headcanons #resident evil village headcanons #karl heisenberg #karl heisenberg x reader #karl heisenberg imagine #karl heisenberg headcanons

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redheadspark · 6 months

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Off You Go

Summary - You and Oliver send Poppy off to Hogwarts, ready to let her go on her own

A/N - This is part of my Oliver Wood x reader with their daughter Poppy Wood storyline that I might be starting up officially pretty soon!

Warnings - mostly fluff!

“Alright, darlin’. Here we are,”

“Woah….Is this it, Da?”

“You bet, Pops,”

You were watching with a grin as your husband and daughter, who was sporting her school robes, peered at the Hogwarts Express together whilst holding hands between them. This day was a day neither you nor Oliver were ready for, and yet it finally came at last. The weather was perfect, you left your home earlier than you thought you would in case you were going to hit traffic, and now you had mere minutes before sending off your child to Hogwarts.

This day was huge in the Wood household.

Ever since Poppy Angelina Wood got her Acceptance Letter from Hogwarts, she was over the moon excited. There was no slowing down her mind when it came to what she imagined it would be like at Hogwarts, who she was going to meet, and what she’d learn. The possibilities were endless with your daughter, and she asked you and Oliver plenty of questions about what it was like for you two when you were students.

“Was Gryffindor the best house?”

“When can I play quidditch like you did, da?”

“Was Herbology hard to learn, mum?”

Both yourself and Oliver indulged her and answered every question she brought you two, never holding back as she was letting her mind expand with imaginations and dreams. Her older cousins told her plenty of tips and tricks too, promising you that they’d look out for her as she navigated her first year. Although that made you both feel a bit better, you were still a bit nervous about sending your only child off to school.

This time it was different for Poppy, she had no real threats against her compared to how it was for you and Oliver. Ever since the end of the Second Wizarding War, new protections and protocols were placed on the newly renovated Hogwarts, and there hasn’t been any accident or occurrences since then.

Hogwarts was safe again, insanely safe thanks to the new Aurors at the Ministry of Magic which included both Harry Potter and Ron Weasley. Another old Schoolmate and fellow Gryffindor, Neville Longbottom, wrote to you and Oliver with reassurance and comfort in telling you both he’ll look out for Poppy while he wasn’t teaching Herbology.

Still, no matter how many people were telling you Poppy was going to be fine and in good hands, you and Oliver still had some fears and some worries. Worries that she would hate it, worry that she wouldn’t get the proper footing on her own.

In the end, she had to go out on her own.

“The Hogwarts Express!” Poppy said in glee as she tugged on her father’s hand, looking at the massive red train that was ready to take off in a few minute's time. You were remembering back when you were a first year, the same height and size as your daughter, and looking at the massive train in wonder and excitement. You grinned, shifting in front of the trolley you were pushing with her trunk and a few parcels that she was taking with her from home to make the homesickness more tolerable.

Lastly, there was a small cage on the top of the trunk with an orange tabby cat inside, sleeping away and not caring what was going on around her. The cat, affectionally named Clover, was the house cat that was going to be Poppy’s cat at school, which was perfect since Poppy and Clover had been attached at the hip since Poppy was a toddler.

Other students and parents were bustling around the three of you, loading their possessions and saying their last goodbyes as the Hogwarts Express workers were busy packing the train with ease.

“Now, remember, when you get to the Hogsmeade Station, you’re goin’ to meet—“ Oliver started with Poppy, but she looked at him and spoke.

“Hagrid, I know Da,” she replied, you eyeing her and then Oliver, seeing the nervousness in his eyes as he knelt down in front of her. You walked over too, listening in on the conversation with your husband and daughter.

“And then you’ll be Sorted,” Oliver reminded her, placing a reassuring hand on his shoulder to give him some ease, “Do ya remember what me and your mum told ya about the Houses?”

“It doesn’t matter what house I’m in, as long as I do my best wherever I go,” Poppy recited clearly, the train then whistling as the first warning that it was time to hop on the train. She looked a bit nervous then, her confidence was still a bit evident but the small sense of fear was now on her freckled face and in her bright eyes, “Da….Mum…I’m scared,”

That made your heart tender for a moment as you knelt down to be next to Oliver, giving your daughter a warm smile as you spoke, “And remember what we talked about? Being scared is normal. Poppy, this is the first step of a big adventure you’re going on, and you’re not alone, right? There are others who are scared too, because you don’t know what will happen, right?”

She nodded rapidly, her fingers were fidgeting in front of the school robes she was wearing. You and Oliver spoke to her the night before, hearing her worries and fears as if she wasn’t going to make friends if she was going to be lonely. You had those fears too as a child, and now that you were the parent, it was your turn to be the comforter and the one bringing peace.

“But that’s the best part, my little Pops,” Oliver explained to her, Poppy watching him with the same eyes she inherited from you and the freckles she got from him dancing on her nose and cheeks, “All ya can do is take it day by day, moment by moment, and know that you’re going to have the best time, at the best school.”

“Really?” She asked with hope in her tone.

“Absolutely! Your mum and I had the time of our lives all those seven years, both in the good times and bad. You’re strong, Poppy. Strong and as tough as they come, You’re a Wood after all,” he explained, Poppy giggling as Oliver held out his arms to her. Poppy hopped into his embrace, Oliver holding her close and almost breathing her in one last time as you petted her brown braid with your fingers. As hard as it was for you to be parted from your daughter, it was going to be harder for Oliver.

Oliver and Poppy were a tag team from the moment Poppy was born. Oliver loved being a father, it was one of the best roles he ever had in his life and he would take being a father over being a quidditch player anytime in his life. You knew it was a sacrifice for him when you told him you were pregnant, not to mention being pregnant during one of the harshest and scariest times in Magical history with Voldemort taking over the Magical World.

Poppy was a gift, the purest gift that Oliver never took for granted. He called off practices and matches to tend to Poppy when she was sick or when you needed help with her. He took her to professional matches when she was a toddler, rode with her while she was a baby in a harness, and even showed her off to his teammates and old schoolmates. He treasured her more than anything, and now he was letting his own treasure go on her own for the first time.

“I love ya to the moon and back, Poppy,” he said into her hair, his hold on her tightened slightly, "I’ll miss ya terribly without my partner in crime,”

“I love you too, Da!” She mumbled into his shirt, then pulled away and grinned at him, “I’ll miss you a lot.”

Oliver grinned, you nothing some tears in his eyes as Poppy moved over to hug you tightly. You hummed in happiness, keeping your daughter close as workers on the Hogwarts Express took her trolley away with her possessions, another single that it was almost time to board.

“I’m so proud of you my little Pops,” You said to her as you peppered her face with kisses to make her laugh. She giggled, Oliver was then chuckling wetly as you pulled away and framed her face in your fingers and palms, “We’ll see you again when you come back for the Christmas Holidays, okay? Remember to study hard, and to play just as hard. Also, make sure you write home at least once a month and tell us everything you’re up to,”

“Twice a month!” Oliver interjected, both you and Poppy looked at him in shock as he grinned with some tears on his cheek and a shrug on his shoulders.

“Da!” Poppy whined as you rolled your eyes and had Poppy face you again.

“At least once a month…for your Da’s sake,” You joked with him as Poppy giggled, “But most of all, you stay true to yourself and not lose sight of who you are. You’re smart, kind, and brave, Poppy Angelina Wood, and I am already proud of you, okay?”

“Okay,” Poppy replied with a softer smile, hugging you one more time as you kissed her forehead,” I love you, Mum.”

“Love you too, my darling girl,” You replied. The Hogwarts Express’s whistle sounded off a second time, which was the last warning before the train was off. You immediately moved up, letting Poppy go as one of the Head Boys from Hufflepuff saw Poppy, gesturing her to hop on the train. With one final wave to you and Oliver, Poppy walked a bit faster now with her hesitance gone, going to one of the doors that was open and looking back at you both. Other parents were waving goodbye, some were already stepping back through the brick wall with ease, and the rest were saying their final farewells as students were waving from the window of the train.

Though you and Oliver were focusing on Poppy, seeing her wave one more time and then going in through the door. Oliver hummed, taking your hand in his own and watching with his wide eyes as Poppy’s head poked out from an open window.

“BYE MUM! BYE DA! LOVE YOU!” She bellowed, you laughing as you waved. With Oliver waving too, the Train was blowing steam and bellowed one last time, the last of the doors were closing and the rest of the students were already inside. With one long lurch, the train was moving, and the massive wheels turned with ease as the train was now on its way out of the station. Your eyes were still on Poppy, seeing her keep her head out for a longer moment before she reluctantly went back inside the train.

She was off, and the train soon departed the station and was out of sight within moments.

Poppy was gone.

As the rest of the parents and patrons started to shuffle away and back through the wall, you looked over at Oliver and sighed, seeing him wipe away his tears and take in a long breath of almost exhaustion and sadness.

“The Great Oliver Wood,” you teased, Oliver wetly chuckled as you cupped his jaw in your fingers,” Your daughter will be fine at Hogwarts, remember?”

“I know,” He hummed in a hiccup,” I didn’t think this day would come but….she’ll be fine, right?”

“Of course she will,” You reassured him, “She’s a Wood, she’ll know how to handle herself. She’s learned from her Da,”

Oliver grinned, wrapping his arm around your shoulder as you two were almost the last two parents still on the platform. The small comfortable silence between the pair was calming, therapeutic in a way since you two were now alone again in your household, at least for a few months when she came back for the Christmas Holiday. Oliver then perked up a bit, a small smile on his face as he spoke.

“We can always owl McGonagall and—“ he stared, but you smacked his chest and gave him a scowling look.

“Oliver Wood, you will do no such thing! Poppy is going to be fine, and I highly doubt our old Head of House and Professor will give us kudos point for our daughter,” You scolded him as you both walked over to the Brick wall, Oliver huffing and rolling his eyes.

“But now she’s the new Headmistress!” Oliver tried to argue with you.

“And as such our child will get no special treatment from McGonagall! Neville’s already looking out for her, and if Poppy finds out about the Headmistress, she’ll never forgive you, are we clear?” You warned him, seeing him sigh in defeat as he gave you a soft smile, laving your fingers together.

“Fine.” He replied, you kissing his cheek as you both walked through the brick wall.

The End.

Tagging - @a-lumos-in-the-nox

#oliver wood x reader #oliverwoodand poppywood #oliver wood x y/n #oliver wood x you #oliver wood #oliver wood fanfiction #writing #fanfiction #hp #hp fandom #harry potter #fanficiton #oliver wood imagine

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bradshawsbaby · 1 year

Text

Letters to My Love // Part V

Boogie Woogie Bugle Boy

Series Masterlist

Pairing: Bob Floyd x Female Reader

Summary: When you signed up to volunteer with the USO, you never anticipated that you would meet a man like Ensign Robert Floyd. Fate brings you together one balmy spring evening in Charleston—the night before Bob is set to ship off across the Atlantic. Pen and paper become your only means of sharing your heart with the naval aviator who’s captivated it, igniting a correspondence that spans the distance between you. Can love blossom even as war rages and thousands of miles keep you apart?

Word Count: 3.7k

Author’s Note: As always, if you’re interested in learning more about the historical context of any of the letters, or if you have any questions about anything that gets discussed, feel free to reach out! I will say that Bob’s mother’s remedy for influenza that gets mentioned in this chapter was a real “home cure” that people used to use back in the day!

Set the Mood: If you’re looking for some 1940s vibes, check out the playlist I made to pair with the story!

The title for this chapter comes from The Andrews Sisters song of the same name.

Dedication: As always, this story is dedicated to @luminousnotmatter. I could thank you endlessly for all the love and support!

Warnings: Alternating POV, references to war and its impact, mentions of rationing, discussion of war casualties and death, references to church and prayer, a ton of fluff as always.

October 12, 1942

Dear Peach,

First of all, I want to start by saying that I’m so sorry for the troubles your family went through at the end of the summer. Little Frankie sounds like quite the trooper, but I’m sure it must have been hard on all of you to see him so sick like that. I’m real, real glad to hear that he’s on the mend. Dottie, too.

It’s funny—even though I’ve never met her, it’s not hard at all for me to believe that your sister was one of the few babies who survived the Spanish Flu back in 1918. From everything you’ve shared with me, it sounds like it would take a lot to break Dottie Sheridan. I’d bet my last dollar that she gives Paddy a run for his money on a regular basis. Maybe don’t tell her I said that though. I do want her to like me, should we ever get to meet in person one day.

You know, a couple summers back, my little brothers ended up coming down with a case of influenza. It seemed as though they picked it up from some of the kids they’d been playing with. It might sound crazy, but my mother would take a handkerchief, sprinkle it with whiskey, and make my brothers inhale the fumes every night before they went to bed. I don’t know where she learned that remedy, but would you believe that the two of them were right as rain after just four days? I’m confident that everyone in your household is the picture of health now, but you might want to give it a try should anyone else come down with the flu. I can’t explain it, but it did seem to do the trick!

I’ll selfishly admit that the weeks that went by without receiving a letter from you were desolate ones indeed. I received a couple letters from home, which were wonderful, but I found that my mind kept wandering back to sunny Charleston instead of the farmlands of Iowa. When I finally saw your handwriting on the envelope they handed me during Mail Call, it took everything in me not to jump up and down like a fool and make a scene. Just like you, I’ve been rereading your letters each night before lights out. I know we haven’t been exchanging messages for long, but each one lifts my spirits more than you could know. And around these parts, that’s a real special thing.

Despite being so far away from home and from everything that’s familiar and comfortable, when I close my eyes and imagine sharing a slice of your mama’s peach tart or getting to dance with you again and hear your pretty voice, I feel as though everything’s going to be alright. Even if the feeling only lasts for a minute or two, it gives me something to hold onto in the moments when it feels like maybe the world really is going to pieces. So thank you for that. Your kindness and your sweet words of encouragement are helping me get through this war, minute by minute and day by day.

I think, if you’re agreeable to it, that I’d really like to take you up on your offer to show you the world one day. Maybe even from up in the air. I may be Paul’s backseat gunner, but I know a thing or two about piloting an aircraft. You can trust me. Any places in particular you’d like to see, Peach? I’m all ears.

I promise you that I am most certainly NOT remembering you through rose-colored glasses. If you remember, my glasses are very much of the non-rose-tinted variety. But they do aid my vision, which helped me to see that night back in May just how absolutely swell you are. I hope it doesn’t embarrass you if I say that I still remember the way your smile put the stars to shame that night on King Street. And though I know no rehearsal is necessary, it does make me quite happy to think that you’ll be practicing a song with me in mind. I know any song you pick will be beautiful, but how about “Someone to Watch Over Me?” It was the first song we danced to, after all. And I’m sure you’ll knock it out of the park. If Gershwin was still alive, I know he’d be thrilled to hear someone doing such justice to his music.

I’ll have you know that it took me quite some time to get the peace and quiet I needed to write this letter because Tommy Boy and Benny simply would not stop chattering in my ear. At first, it was just more of their usual advice—most of which, for your sake, I don’t actually take—but then I realized they were trying to pass along messages of their own to you! I very clearly, and perhaps a bit selfishly, told them that you were my pen pal and that they’d just have to go find some of their own. Benny pouted a bit, but Tommy Boy just grinned, slapped me on the shoulder, and told me he’d never been prouder.

They both say hello, by the way. I did agree to pass that much along.

Paul’s sitting near me right now, writing his own letter home to Natasha and the kids. He wanted me to thank you for your prayers and for your kind words. He’s not one to get all mushy most of the time, but I can tell that your thoughts for him and his family really do mean a lot to him. And he said he’s definitely going to take you up on that jewelry offer when we get home. He may have made some comment about buttering Natasha up when we finally return home, after leaving her alone with two babies for so long. Although, now that I think about it, my little goddaughter, Clara always insists that she’s a big girl. So I’m sure she would take great offense at me referring to her as a baby. Promise you won’t tell on me?

Peach, I hope you know how truly extraordinary you are. I find it just about impossible to believe that people don’t take notice of you. To me, that feels like people taking a stroll outside and not taking notice of the sun. But it means more to me than words can say that you can relate to me in that way. Feeling like you see me, like you really understand me—that doesn’t happen to me often. Especially not with girls as lovely as you. I’m very much looking forward to us getting to know each other better and better.

As far as childhood stories go, I want to make it very clear that Paul and Natasha were solely responsible for any and all mischief that was had in our youth. I was very much just along for the ride. I promise you that it wasn’t my idea to put frogs in our mean teacher’s purse during the school picnic when we were in the third grade. And I certainly wasn’t the one who kidnapped our class hamster so that he could “live a life of freedom in the great outdoors.” Though I will admit I may have been present when the crime was committed. I was a very nerdy and awkward kid, which I’m sure isn’t hard at all for you to imagine, so I do have to credit Paul and Natasha with providing me with some of the most exciting and interesting moments of my life. There’s hardly a memory I have that doesn’t involve the two of them. I think you and Natasha would get on wonderfully. Maybe one day, the two of you will get to meet.

What about you, Miss Peach? Were you a rebel growing up in Georgia, or a goody two shoes like me?

I’m glad to hear that President Roosevelt is keeping you all informed back home, but I’m sorry to hear that the prices are still going up. I know you already mentioned that they started rationing sugar. I hope more rations aren’t coming your way, but, truth be told, I have a sinking feeling that they will be. We’ve been burning through supplies like crazy over here, and it always feels like a scramble to get more of what we need. But I’d still hate to think of you or anyone else having to go without. It just doesn’t seem right. But then, I suppose a lot in this world doesn’t feel right at the moment.

Thank you for sharing the president’s words with me, Peach. I passed them on to the rest of the fellas, and we’re all mighty appreciative of it. I have to say, even if it was Roosevelt’s words, they sounded a lot sweeter coming from you. My safety and comfort feel like a small price to pay if it means that you and my family and the rest of the good folks back home get to rest well each night.

I hate to end my letter to you on a sad note, but thinking of men who aren’t concerned about themselves makes me think of some of the boys that we just lost recently. Just last week, in fact. They weren’t part of my squadron, but I did know several of them. They were a couple years ahead of me at Annapolis, and they were bunking on the carrier with my squadron. Good men, every single one of them. They were shot down during what was supposed to be a fairly routine fly-over. They leave behind mothers, fathers, brothers, sisters, fiancées, sweethearts, and friends. But I think a part of them will still be here, so long as those of us who remember them are still around. They were men, like President Roosevelt said, who put duty and country before themselves. And they deserve to be remembered.

We also recently lost some enlisted men—some sailors on a nearby carrier. We’d gotten to know them pretty well these past few months, and it was a tough blow. I was saddest to learn about the death of a boy named Timmy [REDACTED]. I say boy because that’s what he was. We got to talking one night, him and I, and he admitted to me that he was only sixteen. He’d lied about his age and somehow managed to squeak on by—my guess is that with the draft on, they’re willing to look the other way when boys jump up to volunteer. Sixteen years old. I tell you, I don’t think I could have stomached this at sixteen. I can barely stomach it now at twenty-two. I promised him I wouldn’t tell, and I feel a little guilty to be breaking that promise now that he’s gone, but I think someone else besides me should know how brave he was. He gave everything he had for the family and the country that he loved. I know I’ll never forget him. I know I keep piling more and more names on your list, but maybe you can remember him, too? That way, his legacy will live on. I think he’d be happy to know that.

If any of my letters ever feel like too much to you, Peach, please let me know. I don’t want to unburden my own heart at the cost of your peace of mind. I’m thankful for all the ways you listen and make me feel heard, even with the entire Atlantic in between us. Just getting these words down on paper, knowing that you’ll be reading them soon, fills me with a great sense of calm. Has anyone ever told you what a great pen pal you are?

My mother wouldn’t be happy if she heard me admitting this, but sometimes I’m so dead tired at the end of the night that I fall asleep without saying my prayers. On the nights that I do manage to stay awake, however, I pray for you right after my family, you and Paddy and Dottie and Frankie. I pray that you’re safe and happy and well. I’m always glad to hear that it’s so.

Goodbye for now, Peach. I look forward to your next letter, as I always do.

Very Sincerely Yours,

Bobby

November 3, 1942

Dear Bobby,

I was so thrilled to receive your last letter in the mail, but I admit that I was crying like a baby by the end of it. I’m so sorry for the friends that you lost, especially young Timmy. Sorry always seems like such a trite thing to say in the face of such a tragedy, doesn’t it? It doesn’t feel like it encompasses even half of the pain and the grief and the sorrow that follow in the wake of such horror. But for lack of any other words that would suffice, I’m afraid that “I’m sorry” is all that I can say. Please know that I mean it from the very bottom of my heart.

I hope you don’t mind, but I showed the last part of your letter to Dottie. She walked into the kitchen and was very concerned about why I was such a bawling mess, so I thought it would be better if she heard it directly from you. My big sister is much less prone to tears than I am, but even she cried when she read your beautiful tribute to that young man. We went to church the next day and lit candles in honor of Timmy and all the young men who were lost. I’m so incredibly touched that you would want to share their memories with me, Bobby. I will most certainly treasure them in my heart and pass them along to anyone I can. I don’t want them to be forgotten either. I don’t think anyone deserves to be forgotten. Everyone leaves their mark on this world, no matter how tiny it might seem to others. Even at just sixteen, Timmy clearly left his mark.

I can only begin to imagine what it must be like for you over there, flying dangerous missions yourself and watching those around you, men who you’ve shared laughs and good times with, make that final sacrifice. Please don’t ever feel like you can’t share it with me, Bobby. If you have to live it every day, and face that reality, then the very least I can do is lend a listening ear. I’m always here for you, whatever you need to get off your chest.

To be honest, you’re the first real pen pal I’ve ever had. I’m glad to hear that I’m doing a good job, because I happen to think you’re a terrific pen pal, and I wouldn’t want to let you down in return. It’s kind of funny—when I’m sitting down to read your letters or write one of my own, I sometimes forget that there’s an entire ocean between us. Sometimes, when I read your words, it feels like you’re right here next to me. I can hear your voice, even if it was so long ago now that we were last together. And it just makes it all feel so real to me. You’re a rather wonderful writer, you know.

Hm, now let’s see. Which part of your wonderful letter should I respond to next? I have it laid out in front of me right now, so that I don’t miss or forget anything. Should we discuss your mother’s rather unorthodox cure for the flu? I’d never heard of whiskey in a handkerchief before! I thought Paddy was going to split his sides from laughing so hard when I told him and Dottie. He said that he’s not so sure he should be sticking booze in his baby’s face, but that he’d be more than happy to try that remedy himself! We’d only ever been aware of good, old-fashioned chicken noodle soup and lots of rest. I’m hoping we don’t have another influenza scare any time soon, but we’ll be sure to try the whiskey trick if we do.

Now as for seeing the world—I’ve never been flying before. On the one hand, it seems very exciting and exhilarating, but on the other hand, it seems like the most terrifying prospect in the world. Bless those Wright brothers for being the first ones to give it a go. I suppose if I ever wanted to expand my horizons, however, I’d have to get on an airplane. Ocean liners aren’t exactly the most efficient means of travel. And if I’d trust anyone to take me up in the air for the first time, it would be you, Bobby. Like I mentioned once before, my parents went to Paris for their honeymoon, so I’ve always wanted to see it. Did you know that they call it the city of love? I suppose it must be very romantic with a nickname like that. I’ve also always wanted to see Italy—the Colosseum, the Pantheon, all that amazing art. I imagine it must be so magical. Maybe not right this moment, but Rome has certainly survived its fair share of catastrophes, if I remember my history correctly. I’m sure it will survive this, too.

How about you, Bobby? What parts of the world would you like to see when all of this is over?

“Someone to Watch Over Me” is one of my favorite songs. And now every time I hear it, I think of you and that dance we shared at the USO. If that’s the song that you’d like to hear, then I’ll happily start practicing it right away. Mr. Gershwin certainly knew what he was doing when it came to composing, didn’t he?

Don’t tell them this—we wouldn’t want them getting big heads now—but I always find it to be a delight when you share stories of Tommy Boy and Benny. It makes me so happy to know that you have such good friends over there with you. And I always get a good laugh, imagining their antics. You must have the patience of a saint, Bobby, to put up with all of it. As I’ve said before, I know all too well what it’s like to have to hide away to carve out a little peace for letter writing—Dottie is constantly trying to throw her two cents in whenever she can. I actually have Frankie to thank for my solitude at the moment. He’s been a bit fussy, so Dottie hurried off to check on him. I adore my sister more than life itself, but even I can admit that it’s a bit easier to concentrate when she’s distracted.

I absolutely cross my heart that I will never let it slip past my lips that you called our young Clara a baby. It will be our little secret. I’m sure she and Natasha and Paul, Jr. will be thrilled to receive the letter Paul’s writing to them. Paul sounds like such a wonderful husband and father. He reminds me of Paddy in that way. The two of them seem to have a lot in common. Tell Paul that I’m more than happy to lend any assistance I can to helping him pick out the perfect gift for buttering up his wife. Trust me, I’ve helped my dear brother-in-law do it on more than one occasion.

Speaking of Paul and Natasha, I’m shocked to learn they were such little hooligans when the three of you were growing up. Frogs in your teacher’s purse? Kidnapping the classroom hamster? What kind of trouble did you not get into, I should ask? I think that perhaps you were more of a little rebel than you’re willing to admit, Ensign Floyd. I myself was quite the prim and proper little lady growing up back home in Georgia. Believe me, I was much too shy to be getting into any sort of trouble with anyone. Truth be told, I really sort of kept to myself, even when I was a child. But I always had Dottie, thank goodness. She’s four years older, and she’s always looked out for me. She’s my best friend and my biggest champion. It would be lovely to get to meet Natasha one day, too. Any friend of yours must be a delightful person who I’m sure I would like very much.

Your words are sweet as honey, Bobby, and make me feel just as warm and cozy inside. Whenever I’m having a difficult day, or the weight of the world’s troubles feel like they’re pressing down on me, I read your letters and they never fail to make me smile. I always knew that there were good men out there in the world—my father and Paddy have always been prime examples of that to me—but I think I was starting to doubt that there were many men left who were truly kind and good-hearted. You put those fears in my heart to rest. You are such a good man. I know we haven’t known each other long, and that most of our conversations have been through letters, but your warmth and your kindness always shine through.

I may not be able to speak to how unhappy your mother would be to learn about you falling asleep before your prayers—I like to think she’d understand, given the circumstances—but I can say with total confidence, despite never having met her, that she would be very happy and proud to know just what kind of man her oldest son is. I’m sure she already knows and is already so proud.

I keep you in my prayers every night, too, Bobby. You and Paul and his family and Tommy Boy and Benny, and all the rest of your squadron. All I ask for is that you all come home safely. And soon.

You’re in my thoughts. I look forward, as always, to your next letter, whenever it may arrive.

Affectionately Yours,

Peach

P.S. I almost forgot to mention that it was Frankie’s first Halloween! Unfortunately, the annual parade in town was canceled, but everyone still decorated and the children in the neighborhood got to go trick-or-treating. Dottie made Frankie a little pumpkin costume—he was the cutest little pumpkin you ever did see! We still have some candy lying around the house, which I wish I could send to you. Did Clara, Paul, Jr., and your brothers dress up this year? I hope they had lots of fun!

#robert bob floyd #robert floyd #bob floyd #bob floyd x reader #x reader #x female reader #top gun #top gun: maverick #lewis pullman #WWII AU #1940s AU

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