#like i know we all have ideas on how it should have gone

[bookyeom]

campfire - bsk

pairing: seungkwan x reader word count: 1.7k warnings: the tiniest mention of blood at the beginning request prompt: "What are we to each other?"

A/N: Thanks so much for all the support for my 700 follower celebration. You guys rock! I'm doing my best to get through the requests, but there were way more than I anticipated so bear with me!

"I’m bleeding," you wince. You sit down on one of the rocks, turning your foot to assess the damage. A small trail of blood leads from your ankle to your pinky toe, and you let out a little whine. "Gross."

Who’s idea was it to go on a hike at 5:30am, anyway? 

Yours. Right. It was your idea. 

You’d thought some of your friends would join you – you’re on a week-long cottage vacation. Why would you not immerse yourself in the nature all around you? But only one person had signed up to tag along – the one you thought liked you the least. You don’t even know if you would consider him a friend.

The hike had been mostly silent, awkward even – and then, like an idiot, you’d gone and tripped. 

Seungkwan wastes no time, immediately crouching down on the ground in front of you. He motions for you to put your foot up on his knee and you oblige, wincing again as you move. You can’t help but watch his face as he assesses the injury. His hair is messy from the wind, and parts of it are falling across his forehead as he leans forward. He looks kind of beautiful in this element, you have to admit. All sweaty and flushed from the exertion. You try and fail to suppress a shiver as his fingers run across your skin, and his eyes meet yours in concern. 

"Did that hurt?" 

You feel your cheeks heat up as you shake your head no, before breaking his gaze and looking back down at your foot. You watch as he pulls off his backpack, resisting the urge to comment on the fact that he has a first-aid kit in there (because of course he does), even though that’s what you do. You and Seungkwan are just that – two people who happen to have the same friends, and bicker over the dumbest shit. But right now, with the way he looks so soft and concerned, his lower lip between his teeth in concentration, you can’t find it in you to make a snarky comment. 

You’ve been finding it harder and harder to do that lately, if you’re being honest with yourself. You don’t know when it started to happen, but the teasing between the two of you just makes you feel warm all over now, instead of irritated like it used to. You’re starting to resent the way he makes you smile.

“This will hurt.” Seungkwan’s voice snaps you out of your thoughts, and you nod, unable to find your voice as he presses a piece of peroxide-soaked cotton onto the affected area. You hiss at the pain, and his free hand gives your calf a gentle squeeze of reassurance. “It’s not sprained,” he tells you, “but it’s going to hurt like a bitch. You should be okay to walk on it, but we should definitely head back.”

He starts packing up his bag again, and you wish that you could find something, anything to say. You know a thank you is in order, but all you can manage is, “Since when did you become an expert in sprained ankles?”

Seungkwan snorts, but he doesn’t so much as flinch while he continues to put his things back in his bag. “Being the captain of the volleyball team has its perks, I guess.”

“And co-captain of the badminton and table tennis teams.”

That makes him look up. His eyes are wide in surprise, and you try to ignore how flushed you’ve suddenly become under his gaze. “Yeah,” he says slowly, “I didn’t know you even knew that about me.”

You can’t help the defense that shoots back up as you retort, “What do you mean? It’s all you talk about. We get it, you’re sporty.”

“Right.” His lack of response to your quip has you flustered. He simply hums, stands up and slings his backpack over his shoulders. “Can you walk on your own?”

You feel stupid all of a sudden. “I think so,” you respond, dejected by the weird energy between the two of you, and you can feel Seungkwan’s eyes on you as you stand, testing the weight on your foot. “I’m good, just go slow.”

You don’t talk to Seungkwan for the rest of the afternoon. He disappears when you make it back to the house, and all you get from him over lunch are some smiles and a giggle when you guffaw at Mingyu tripping on his own shoes. You spend the afternoon hanging out with Vernon and Seungcheol in the library, ankle propped up as you read in silence. 

A campfire is on the agenda for dinner, and you're told to sit back and relax as things are brought out from the cottage. You’re entertained from your seat by Seokmin and Mingyu as they begin cooking, and the rest of your group comes out one by one. The sun is beginning to set, and the sky is a beautiful array of blues, pinks and purples when Seungkwan sits in the chair next to you.

“How’s the ankle?”

“It’s fine,” you manage, and he nods. He settles in, eyes on the fire, and you can’t help but gawk at him. He chose to sit next to you?

The evening passes without much more chatter between the two of you. Your other friends are entertaining as always, and the time slips away peacefully until Jeonghan announces his early retirement, and others begin to follow suit. The fire is dwindling when Chan, Soonyoung and Seokmin announce that they’re headed in, leaving just you and Seungkwan, and you’re about to ask Seokmin to help you back to the house when Seungkwan interjects.

“I’ll help them.”

You flush at the chorus of oohs and ahhs that echo through the remaining group, but Seungkwan doesn’t even flinch, already maneuvering his chair in front of yours. 

“Come on,” he pats his thigh, “let me see.”

“Seungkwan…” 

He hums, focused on the task at hand. It’s quiet now as he stops fidgeting with the bandage, moving instead to gently massage the sore area around the wound. His touch is gentle but firm, and you feel electricity shoot through you. You’re holding your breath, and you feel a little dizzy; there are goosebumps on your leg from where he’s touching you. It’s not cold out, so you know you can’t blame it on that. It’s quiet, and all you can hear are the murmurs and occasional laughter of your friends in the distance, and the dying fire. 

“Why are you doing this?” Your question comes out harsher than you mean for it to, and you wince.

Seungkwan looks up at that, his fingers stilling on your skin. He’s silent for a moment, processing. “What, helping you?” He sounds incredulous, and you shrink a little bit back into yourself. He begins to gently press his fingers into the muscle of your ankle again, his eyes falling back to his work as he adds, “Didn't know you thought so lowly of me.” 

“It’s not as if you like me either, Seungkwan.” You wish you could pull your ankle away from him without it hurting, wish you could find a way to hide from whatever this conversation is about to be — but you can’t. 

Seungkwan shakes his head, the disbelieving huff of a laugh escaping his lips as he does. “Unbelievable.”

You cross your arms, defensive. “What?”

Despite being obviously annoyed, Seungkwan is gentle as he sets your foot back on the ground. “Nothing. Just let me help you back to the house, alright?”

You stare at him in disbelief as he stands, moving his chair back to its place before he holds out an arm to you. “No. What? You’ve got to be kidding me, Seungkwan.”

He runs a hand through his hair, jaw tight as looks away from you and mutters, “Fine. Get back to the house on your own.”

“That’s not…” You fight back the sudden urge to cry, blinking rapidly. “Seungkwan.”

Something in your voice makes him turn back to you, and now his own arms are crossed in defense. “What, Y/N?”

“I…” You don’t even know what you mean to say, really, and it takes a moment before you whisper softly, “What are we to each other?” 

You can tell he’s surprised by your question. His eyes widen as he straightens. “I… I don’t know,” he admits honestly. “But I can’t figure out why you don’t like me.”

His admittance lingers in the air around you, and your mouth falls open as you process. “Do you like me?” 

Seungkwan’s hand lifts to run over his face as he sits back in his chair. He’s embarrassed, you realize, and your heart stutters over itself in your chest. “I mean, yeah, but I just meant — you think that I hate you or something, but I don’t, even though you don’t like me —“

“I like you,” you blurt out, cutting him off before he can ramble any further. “I thought that you didn’t like me because you’re always so competitive and want to beat me at everything, and you never seem excited to see me or try to talk to me at parties, so I just… gave up on trying to make you like me.” 

Seungkwan lets out a whine. “You intimidate me! You’re good at everything and yes, I’m competitive, but you’re an equal match and that’s so hot. But I thought you didn’t like me, so I didn’t try, either.”

“Oh my god,” you say after a moment. 

You stare at one another in the dim firelight for a moment. And then you both begin to giggle.

“Are we going to ignore that you called me hot?”

Seungkwan stumbles a bit, the arm he has slung around your shoulders tripping you up a little bit too, but he quickly catches himself. You bite back a smile. “Yes. Yes we are.”

“Why? I think you’re hot, too.”

Seungkwan fully stops the two of you now, turning to you with an exaggerated pout. You can just make out his features in the light from the cabin up ahead, and he looks so cute you could cry. “Don’t tease me,” he whines.

“I’m serious,” you tell him honestly. He looks away, but you can see the shy smile that’s formed on his face. 

“Fine,” he says as he begins to walk again. “We can talk more about that inside.”

@wheeboo @tae-bebe @waldau @eoieopda @gyuminusone @minisugakoobies @lvlystars @seohomrwolf @variety-is-the-joy-of-life @christinewithluv @wqnwoos @iluvseokmin @darkypooo

#seungkwan x reader #svt x reader #seventeen x reader #seventeen imagines #seventeen imagine #seungkwan fluff #seungkwan imagine #seventeen fluff #my writing #bskfic #bookyeom700

[dyaz-stories]

say my name and everything just stops || gojo satoru x reader

synopsis: You welcome Gojo back after a mission that lasted longer than expected.

(He fucks you on your desk)

word count: 2.6k

genre: canon compliant, smut

cw: porn with some plot, porn with feelings, vaginal sex, fingering, gojo is a tease, light angst, some fluff too, reader is afab, implied fwb, gojo calls reader sensei but they're both teachers

a/n: just a little thing for fun and practice :) enjoy!

more gojo x reader here

Though the sun is setting outside, you’re still at your desk, dutifully filing paperwork. You’ve dismissed the students a long time ago, of course, but you haven’t left the classroom yet. The door sliding open, though you haven’t heard any footsteps, has you glancing up, on high alert. The worry dissipates right away when you’re met with familiar white hair, a broad grin, and all-black clothing.

“Well, well, sensei,” Gojo Satoru says as he approaches your desk with a nonchalant pace, hands in his pockets, “working late, are we?”

“Gojo,” you reply, eyes back on the paper sheet in front of you. “How was your trip?”

“You know you can just ask Ijichi to do that for you, right?” Gojo continues, now standing in front of your desk. “No need for you to do all that by yourself.”

“Ijichi is busy,” you answer, unperturbed by the way he ignored your question. “You’ve been gone a whole week. Did something go wrong?”

“Aw, sensei,” he coos, “were you worried?”

You put down your pen to look up at him. You’re always worried, obviously. While you’re a teacher at Jujutsu High, the main role you’re expected to fulfill is that of strategist, to better coordinate group actions. You wouldn’t be able to do that without being at least a little paranoid.

It just so happens that you are very paranoid.

Faced with your stare, Gojo’s grin widens.

“Well, I guess they were happy to have me around and they had me fix all the little problems they hadn’t been able to get rid of by themselves,” he tells you with a shrug. “If I didn’t do it, no one was going to, so, might as well get everything taken care of in one go.”

It’s hard not to openly grit your teeth at his words. You’re not thrilled about the way Gojo just gets used and shipped off to wherever the elders deem fit. You and Shoko, on the other hand, are expected to remain caged in the more ‘safe’ properties, all in the name of the greater good. You’re not sure what good it’s doing. You still know better than to say it out loud.

“You stopped by Shoko’s before coming here,” you say. It’s not a question, and his face lights up at it.

“One day, you’re really going to have to tell me how you do that.”

It’s not that hard. A light smell of smoke lingers around him; the last button of his shirt is unbuttoned, likely because of an examination; there’s a pen sticking out of his pocket that you suspect he’s stolen off her desk; and he’s not wearing his usual travel shoes, meaning he changed since coming back to Tokyo, and knowing him, you must have been close to the top of his list of people to see, so you don’t think he went home, so Ichiji must have brought them to him at the lab.

You could easily have been wrong, of course. You just made an educated guess, and it worked out well for you.

“I found something weird out there,” he states matter-of-factly. “Didn’t need any patching up. C’mon, don’t tell me you were worried?���

You roll your eyes and push your chair back to stand up. He should have been back three days ago, and you didn’t hear from him. Not that the way your relationship works means you should have. It explicitly doesn’t.

“We don’t know what kind of curses are out there,” you say. “Anything could happen.”

“Aw,” Gojo says. “But you know I’m the strongest. I can take everything they throw at me.”

He says it with such absolute confidence that you want to believe him blindly, but all your instincts rebel at that idea. You can’t let yourself think he’s invincible. You can’t make your plans based on that idea. There’d be too much to lose if— if—

“With how gloomy you look, it’s hard to think you’re happy to see me,” Gojo pouts. “And here I was, thinking I’d get a warm welcome back…”

You scoff, fighting the smile that wants to break on your face, then make to move past him. You have no intention of actually leaving of course, but you know that—

Of course, the second he thinks you’re getting away from him, he grabs your wrist and twirls you around and into him. His arm wraps around your waist smoothly, presses your chest against his.

“Really? You’re not even a little bit happy?” He says it lightly, but you don’t miss the very light twinge of annoyance in his voice.

You like to think that you are one of the few people that can get a rise out of him.

It goes both way, of course, but now that you’re in his arms, after a week without touching him, anger and fear melt away all too easily, and all you want is him.

You put both of your arms around his neck, and push yourself on your tiptoes to capture his lips. There is a second during which he remains still, as if unsure, no matter how unlike him that would be. It’s like you don’t have him back yet, like there’s a part of him, of his mind, that is still out there with the curses.

But the moment passes, and then he’s kissing you feverishly. He pushes you back until you hit your desk, then helps lift you on top of it. The papers you’ve filled so dutifully fall to the floor, but he doesn’t care and neither do you. His warm tongue meets yours and you feel small moans escaping you, which he swallows hungrily. One of his hands sneaks under your shirt, the other pushes up your long skirt as he lifts up one of your legs, fingers digging into the flesh of your thigh.

You burry your hand in his hair, try to pull him closer to you, because fuck, you’ve missed him, you’ve missed the weight of his body on yours, and you want him, you need him to be as close as possible. He groans inside your mouth, and when your other hand moves down to trace his jaw, his neck, the muscles of his shoulders, before trying to unbutton his shirt, it turns into a full whimper.

Unfortunately, that sound also brings you back to reality, and while your body is an inferno right now, you feel your cheeks heating up even more.

“Wait, wait, Gojo—”

“Satoru,” he almost growls. Now that you’re trying to speak, he presses open-mouthed kisses along your jaw, then down your neck, sucking and biting lightly at the skin.

“Satoru,” you whine, left with no strength nor desire to fight him on that, “we shouldn’t— students could—”

“They’ve gone home,” he dismisses your worries easily. “None of them are going to show up here at this time.”

He’s hooking his fingers in your panties now, trying to slide them down your legs, but you catch his arm first. You’re quite the spectacle, breathless and panting, clothes half off. Even then, there’s that serious light in your eyes that just has him weak in the knees.

“Yaga— Yaga could—”

“If you think about it, that’d be doing him a favor,” Satoru hums. “Would give him some really, really good material, if you ask me.”

He doesn’t add that the material in question is all his, and that he’d never let Yaga catch you in the act, just for that reason. He doesn’t have to, because his answer makes you laugh softly.

You always laugh for him.

“He better not find us,” you warn him, as your grasp on his arm relaxes.

“Hm, that shouldn’t be a problem, as long as a certain someone can keep quiet…”

You roll your eyes, and then you pull him back down against your lips to interrupt his laugh.

He manages to get your panties out of the way, and then pushes a long finger inside you. You’re already so wet for him, he marvels as it slides in easily. He soon follows it with a second one, spreading you open carefully, and that’s when you throw your head back, closing your eyes and pushing your hand against your mouth to muffle your moan.

“So you’ve really missed me, huh?” he can’t help but tease as he chases your mouth. He’d love nothing more than to hear you loud and clear, but he knows you won’t risk it, no matter how empty the school is right now.

Underneath him, your body trembles, and he can’t resist any longer. He pulls his blindfold out of the way, drinking in the most beautiful sight he’s ever beholden. You’re trying your best not to let the pleasure get to you, but even then, you manage to open an eye to look at him, and you’re met with the stunning blue eyes you wish you could see more often. Something softens inside you, and you reach up to touch his cheek.

“Of course I’ve missed you,” you answer.

Shit. He doesn’t know how long he can keep this up. He’s already rock hard and all he’s done is rock against you. He wanted to take his time with you tonight, because all he’s had the past week is the memory of you, and that’s nowhere near enough, but it’s not looking like he will last that long.

“Yeah?” he insists as his thumb finds your clit and he starts rubbing carefully. “Thought about me while I was gone?”

You let out a loud cry, manage to cover your mouth again before another one comes out. Your thighs are trembling around him, and fuck, he’s going to have to fuck you real soon, otherwise he’s just going to burst in his pants without you even touching him, at this point.

“I’ve thought of you,” he tells you as he pulls his fingers out of you to get rid of his pants. “Thought of how good you feel around me, of how good you sound for me, of how pretty you are when you’re bouncing on my cock…”

He guides his cock against your entrance, presses it against you. You buck your hips, unable to stop yourself, but he doesn’t give it to you, not just yet.

“You really want it that bad, don’t you?” he practically purrs.

“Satoru,” you whine, and oh, if you knew what it does to him when you say his name like that… “don’t make me b— Ah!”

Finally satisfied, he sheathes himself fully inside of you, and fuck, it’s all he’s been dreaming of for days now. Next time he swears he’ll come running back to you the second he’s done with the stupid assignment. You reach up for him and he lets you, lets you dig your nails into his shoulder blades as you bury your face in his neck to stifle your moans. His hips set up a lazy pace at first, and you try your best to follow, try to meet him with small movements of your own, before you feel his breath against your ear.

“It’s all good,” he says warmly. “Just let me take care of you, babe. I’ve got you.”

That’s when he picks up the pace, and you’re left to writhe underneath him, whimpering his name desperately against his skin like a prayer, Satoru, Satoru, Satoru!

You come, shaking, around him when he brings his fingers to your clit once more, and he doesn’t lose a second of it. The high-pitched moan that you just can’t hold in, the way your head falls back, how your thighs shake on either side of him, it’s all so perfect. You’re perfect.

He does his best to let you ride your orgasm on his cock, but he comes inside you just a couple seconds later, unable to last longer. He collapses on top of you, and your labored breathing fills the room. Your hand on his back moves gently, tracing circles on the nape of his neck, gently running through his hair.

“If you’re not down for a round two just yet, I recommend you stop that,” he mumbles against you, only to regret it immediately, because you do stop.

“We should— we should take this elsewhere,” you say quietly.

Ah, now that’s more like it.

“I can call Ichiji and we could do that in the back of the car on the way home,” he offers cheerfully as he gets up, putting the blindfold back in place, though not before he can see you grimace in horror at his suggestion.

“Absolutely not,” you say firmly, though once more, he was only teasing. He’d never let Ichiji see you like that. “Although, if you could call someone to come clean up in here, just, uh, just in case…”

Cute.

“Done. Now, about that round two…”

“Else. Where,” you insist, and you don’t fall for his cute pout.

He sighs but takes your hand to help you to your feet, then turns around as he pulls out his phone. He’s about to hit Ichiji’s number when your fingers on his skin almost bring a shiver out of him.

“Shouldn’t this be healing?” you ask, frowning, and he realizes you’re talking about the marks you’ve left on his back.

“Nah, I quite like them, actually,” he grins back. “Don’t you?”

There’s a lot of unsaid things that hang between the two of you. A lot of things that are better left unsaid. Sadly, you’re too smart for your own good, and you know better. You leave them be.

“I was worried for you,” is what do you say.

Satoru’s expression shifts. The grin vanishes, and you can’t see his eyes, so you’re not sure how he’s feeling, not until the corner of his lips lift up in a soft smile.

“Thank you,” he says, voice uncharacteristically low.

Then he turns away from you, and he’s as loud and boisterous as ever when Ichiji answers.

Of course. The strongest can’t let himself grow soft.

You bend down to pick up your papers, rearrange them neatly on the desk, eyes still on him, on the animated way he moves around the room.

You think you’re more grateful than he knows, for him being back here. Not because he’s the strongest, not because no one gets rid of a curse like he can, but because he’s Satoru. It’s probably better that way, though. You’re both too busy for distractions.

With a sigh, you put your papers back on the desk, then start moving towards the exit.

“Aren’t we going?” you ask Satoru right as you’re reaching the door.

You watch his Adam’s apple bob up and down as he swallows.

“Hope you wrote all that down, ‘cause I need to get out of here,” he says on the phone, and you hear Ichiji protest, but that doesn’t stop Satoru from hanging up unceremoniously. He follows you in the hallway, shoulders brushing against yours without quite touching.

“Hey, if not in the car, there’s a supply closet on the first floor—”

“No.”

“Yaga’s office is probably—”

“Absolutely not.”

“How about in my bed?” he asks, right against your ear, breath tickling against your skin. Your cheeks heat up.

“…Sure.”

He only savors his victory for a second.

“What about the couch?”

“Don’t push it.”

But he does, and you let him.

How could you not, when you finally have him back?

still trying to get used to writing gojo's character, don't know if i quite have him just yet. i hope you enjoyed this, any feedback you have is welcomed and encouraged! reblogs and comments are what keeps me writing, so please engage with my work to let me know if you'd like to see more~

if you enjoy my writing, you can find more gojo x reader here

#gojo x reader #gojo satoru x reader #gojo x you #gojo x y/n #jjk x reader #jujutsu kaisen x reader #gojo smut #jjk smut #jjk x you #jujutsu kaisen smut #gojo imagine #gojo x reader smut #gojo satoru smut #satoru smut #gojo fluff #jjk imagine #jjk x y/n #my writing

[russellsppttemplates]

A red thread tying you to me (Charles Leclerc)

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

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

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

my masterlist

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

"I have grandstand tickets", you stated.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

"I suppose I do", he blushed.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

#charles leclerc imagine #charles leclerc x you #charles leclerc fanfic #charles leclerc fic #charles leclerc fluff #charles leclerc x reader #f1 fluff #f1 fic #f1 fanfic #f1 imagine #f1 x reader

[dalliancekay]

We've been talking for millions of years

Aziraphale was clearly taken by Angel!Crowley from the moment he met him. I think the 6000 years could be read as when the whole human breeding thing starts. Even God says there's been many nice days in the Garden. How many? The count didn't start until the day they left Eden I think. When we meet Aziraphale and Angel!Crowley in Before the Beginning, Earth was still an idea in the works. And the War didn't happen. Or Crowley surely would have been more cautious. So I hope they have met and talked and Crowley grumbled about how unfair it all was.

And Aziraphale tried to placate him that it will all work out somehow, there’s a Plan. And they kept meeting, Crowley showing Aziraphale the prettiest corners of the universe, Aziraphale telling Crowley exciting developments re: Earth.

I wouldn’t try to guess at how far their relationship has gone… maybe relationships of the kind we know now weren’t invented yet and still, these two loved each other without knowing anything about it. After all, no other angels seem to have ANY relationships of any kind. Apart from higher or lower levels of condescension towards each other.

Then the Great War came and tore them apart. After knowing each other for millions of years and their close more-than-friendship, their world falls apart. After all, Crowley tried to do the right thing. And Aziraphale did too but it wasn’t to be. Yet. But. Their story wasn’t finished yet.

Aziraphale is relieved when he’s sent down to Earth to guard the brand new humans from the demons he has heard that the damned angels have been turned into. He’s a bit fearful about the whole thing but glad to be away and keen, if a bit anxious to see the project he’s discussed/worked on for so long.

Crowley hates Hell. He hates it cos it’s not what he wanted or what he thought he was joining. He has been lied to. He’s not regretting his decision to turn his back on Heaven, no. He still thinks they’ve made too many crappy decisions. But he despises what the Rebellion became.

When Beelzebub asks for a volunteer to go up to the new planet and tempt the fresh innocent human couple into joining them, he volunteers, even if only to escape the claustrophobic walls and the mess nobody ever clears up.

Tempting comes easy to him. He imagines talking to his lost friend. ‘But why wouldn’t you try fruit from this one tree. What’s the problem with knowing things anyway? Wouldn’t you want to decide by yourself Eve? And Eve does make a decision.

Crowley’s worried now. Not for himself. He’s without hope but did he hurt humans by doing this. He didn’t mean to. He doesn’t really want them to go to Hell. Or Heaven for that matter. He only thinks they should be free to make their own choices. If only he had someone to talk to.

He spotted a distant angel earlier. Reminded him of, of… the light hair...anyway. They held a flaming sword but surely he can dodge that if needs be. He could just try for a simple chat. He has no idea how demons are talked about in Heaven. But he guesses the angel might just try to smite him. Worth the risk. Everything feels so raw and strange here. Maybe stealing a bit of familiarity will help him settle his nerves.

He decides to slither over and ask how the angel feels about what’s been done. Will they be furious. Hurt? Guilty? Oh. It’s him. It’s too late now. Always too late. It’s him. Aziraphale. Aziraphale. It is HIS angel. What is he going to do. FUCK! Well. No better way to find out. He could just tease him like the old times. What's the worst that can happen.

Shitfuck but he smells good. These new senses will take a while to get used to: “Well that went down like a lead balloon.” A lead balloon? Whatthefuck even is that. Oh for Someone's sake.

Aziraphale’s standing on top of the Garden wall, squeezing his fingers with worry - what exactly has happened. What has possessed him to give away his sword. Did he disappoint God? Heaven? It doesn’t FEEL wrong to help them. If only he had someone to talk to.

Another angel? What. A snake? Oh. Oh. They are changing. Could it be? His heart will surely explode into million pieces…!!!! A lead balloon?!? “Sorry what was that?” Does he remember me? I think he does. I think he does. He’s here. As lovely as always.

I’ll keep him safe. Safe. I will keep him safe this time.

#good omens #aziraphale #crowley #ineffable husbands #aziracrow #good omens 2 #aziraphale my beloved #good omens thoughts #before the beginning #garden of eden #good omens eden #kaypost

[lovelybrooke]

Letters Never Sent (Yandere Malleus x Reader)

---

A letter wrote by Malleus Draconia, never sent to the object of his desires. Why don't you open it up and see what's inside...

masterlist

---

Dear My Child of Man,

I am writing this letter with no intention of you receiving it. 

Maybe this is "silly" as you would describe it, but I find myself slowly losing the restraint on my emotions as the days go by. My heart fills with unfamiliar feelings as I think of you, mixing together into an ever present sense of desire that makes me near shameful. 

I find myself thinking of you always, from the moment I wake, to the moment I fall asleep. You seep your way into my dreams, where for but a moment I can relish in the fantasy that is you. I dream of your soft voice, your comforting gaze, your addicting presence. You are so captivating that I often forget I'm dreaming, until I awake with an aching feeling I've come to know as longing. 

I long for you, I've learned.

I long for your voice, for your gaze, for your presence. I long for every essence of your being to be directed towards me. Some may call me a fool, scoff my way and paint me a madman, but I am nothing without my love for you, so it bothers me none. I often wonder if you think of me as intensely as I do you. I have to admit it is exciting, the mere thought of you reciprocating my feelings warms me so. It is intoxicating, even as a fantasy, simply imagining a life with you is enough for me. Somedays, I imagine gifting you with an unending dream, one where it is just us, away from the rest of the world. Away from duty, and work, and anything else that could distract us from each other, from our love. We would be together and we would be happy until the end of your days, and even after you're gone, I would continue loving you. 

You were always so opposed to the idea, immortality. I remember the look on your face when you realized just how long I had lived, the sadness, the remorse, the pain. At that moment, it was not something I feared, more accurately not something I thought much about. It was not until I met you that it dawned upon me that at some point, you would leave this world, and that it would keep moving. Time would progress, people would grieve, but they would move on, plants would sprout and grow and wilt and eventually grow again, but I would remain stuck. Stuck with my dreams and fantasies. Stuck with the memory of you so present it would be like you never left in the first place. 

Even now, I fear what the world would be like without you. Not much fills me with fear, my Child of Man, but I've found myself scared lately. The thought of you leaving, of going back to your home, and never returning scares me. It is almost comical in a way, I find myself dreading the thought even while writing this. You should be proud, how easily you are able to terrify me is an excellent skill, one many would love to possess. 

You were my first true friend, did you know that? I have Lilia and Silver and Sebek, but I've always been treated as above them, as something untouchable. You were the first person to treat me like an equal, to bless me with the wonderful feeling of friendship. I often find myself racked with guilt, why should I desire more from you when you've already given me so much already? It is selfish, to seek out your love so desperately when I've already taken so much from you. You are my friend, and I should value our friendship above all. 

But that is why I fear, because my love for you goes beyond the boundaries of friendship. I would even say it goes beyond the boundaries of love. It is a longing so deep I wonder if I'll ever be the same again, all while knowing that I am too engrossed in the feeling that is you to ever go back. A longing so deep I yearn with desire unexplainable to man, desire so profound and raw that I am sure you have changed something within me. A longing so deep the closest word to describe it is obsession, but even obsession doesn't explain the hundreds of letters, all unset, pilling away, all centering you. 

Fear, love, what do distinctions matter if every single one of my thoughts center you. 

I have no desire to send this letter, my Child of Man, but I hope with every meeting, every passing day, every time we are together, you are able to feel the love I hold for you. I hope my longing, my devotion, my never ending, boundless obsession is clear to you, my love. 

Because I fear what will happen when I run out of paper.

---

A/n: here's to me hoping that this will break my writers block.

#yandere x reader #soft yandere #platonic yandere #twisted wonderland x reader #yandere twisted wonderland #twisted wonderland #twst malleus #twst x reader #yandere twst #twst

[feyhunter78]

Chapter Three - Your father has taken notice of your blossoming interest in a certain dark-haired northerner.

Ch 4

“The boy is looking at you again.” Your father drawls, moving his elephant across the cyvasse board with disinterest.

You take a sip of your wine and hum in response, moving one of your trebuchets forward.

He clicks his tongue. “Bad move, little lion, that leaves me free to attack your king.”

You glance at the board and curse internally; you have been far too distracted by Jon’s barely subtle stares to properly play the game. “Perhaps I am simply letting you win, you are getting older, Father, it is only the kind thing to do.”

Your father raises an eyebrow and delivers his final move. “Ah yes, it is kindness that distracts you, not the strapping lad who seems he will burst into flames if he does not look at you every three seconds.”

You glance over at Jon, who swiftly turns his attention back to Arya, correcting her stance out in the training yard, the ground freshly cleared of snow.

You and your father have taken a seat on one of the benches within one of the entrances to the guest chambers that spills out into the yard. It’s the perfect mixture between the warmth inside and the crisp morning air outside.

“I have not the faintest idea what you speak of.” You say, popping a grape into your mouth and chewing slowly, trying to hide your smile from your father.

He sighs and shakes his head. “All those years spent teaching you to mask your emotions, to have the perfect expression that never reveals anything, gone with the simple presence of a dark-haired northern boy who does naught by train and brood.”

“He reads as well.” You say, unable to stop yourself from defending Jon.

“Oh, does he now? Someone send word to the Grand Maester, we have found his newest acolyte.” He snorts, taking a drink from his glass.

You wrinkle your nose in response. “You are quite humorous, Father, truly you could put the court fool out of a job.”

He sets his wine down and heaves a heavy sigh. “You know I only ever wish for your happiness.”

“Yes, it is why you are my favorite father in the whole continent.” You smile teasingly, pulling your cloak closer around you as the wind picks up.

“But he is a bastard—”

“You said all dwarves are bastards in their father’s eyes, and yet you are still a man worth respect and titles.” You cut in, surprising even yourself with your outburst.

“Y/N.” Your father says sternly, laying his hands flat on the table.

You duck your head. “Sorry, Father.”

“He is a bastard, he cannot be your husband, a lover, or a guard, yes, but not a husband. If we were not Lannisters, if our house was not as it was, then perhaps it would be allowed. Gods know I do not wish to force you into a marriage you despise, but you are still a lady, still have the potential to win over great victories for our family.”

You bite the inside of your cheek, turning his words over in your mind. “Are you suggesting I proposition him, like Queen Rhaenyra did Ser Criston Cole?”

“I am not suggesting anything, I do not wish to think of my only daughter as a lady grown, but if you must follow Queen Rhaenyra’s footsteps…perhaps it is a Lord Harwin Strong you should seek instead.” His tone is careful, teetering the line between fatherly advice and the words of a Lannister.

You toy with the edges of your cloak. “Jon cares much for his honor, it would be shameful to even ask him such a thing.”

Your father’s hand covers your own. “That bleeding heart of yours, it comes straight from your mother.”

You smile. “And you, as well, do not downplay your kindness. An unkind father would have shipped me off to the richest man who asked for my hand the moment I first bled.”

He shivers in disgust at the thought.

Your eyes drift over to Jon and Arya, the latter who has been distracted by the appearance of Sansa and Joffrey.

“Perhaps a guard then, you could do worse than a guard you have grown alongside, it breeds loyalty.” Your father muses, watching how Jon shifts to put himself between Arya and Joffrey.

You cringe when Joffrey challenges Jon to a playful duel, ignoring your father’s words. “This will not go well.”

“Perhaps it will be good for your cousin’s ego to be beaten into the ground by someone he deems below him.”

You meet your father’s eyes and you both burst into laughter.

“Y/N, Uncle, stop laughing and come, all must witness this display of skill.” Joffrey calls, beckoning you both over.

“I cannot, Nephew, I must meet with your Uncle Jaime.” Your father calls back, hopping down from the bench.

“Father.” You hiss, silently begging him not to leave you with Joffrey.

He pats your hand. “You will be fine, stiff upper lip, little lion, remember?”

You groan and pout at him, but he shoos you forward.

Sansa crushes your hand as you watch Jon and Jeffrey spar, it’s clear Jon is holding back, you’ve seen him training, he puts more effort into hitting the dummies than he does attempt to hit Joffrey.

“Should you not cheer for your cousin?” Sansa asks.

The thought has never crossed your mind, and now it makes your stomach turn. “I would not want to break his concentration.” You say gracefully, trying to keep your eyes on the clashing swords and not Jon.

“Who cares?” Arya cheers, “Go Jon, knock him flat.”

Jon flashes her a smile, one born of confidence and the rush of near victory, and your heart skips a beat. For a moment, you can imagine him competing in a tourney. His polished armor flashing in the sun, ripping his helmet off and letting it fall to the ground, his curls set free as he directs that smile towards you, the crown of roses in his hand naming you his Queen of Love and Beauty.

“Good work, My Prince, hit him hard.” Sansa cheers in direct opposition of her sister.

Joffrey turns towards Sansa, basking in her praise. A fatal mistake, his distraction allows Jon to knock him to the ground.

The action rips a gasp from you, not many aside from your Uncle Jaime would dare to knock Joffrey off his feet.

Your cousin lies there stunned, then he darts up, sputtering, his face turning red as he hurls insults at Jon, before storming off, Sansa jumping up to follow after him.

You catch her arm. “Lady Sansa, I would leave him to his solitude, my cousin is not fond of sharing in his embarrassment.”

Sansa looks as if she wishes to argue, but relents and turns to scold Arya for her cheering.

Jon’s gaze falls upon you, he hasn’t even broken a sweat, his eyes the color of a winter storm in the sunlight.

Perhaps a guard then. Your father’s words echo in your mind. You didn’t need to follow in Queen Rhaenyra’s footsteps, you could follow in Queen Alicent’s. Your maester had spoken of the pure and courtly bond between her and Ser Criston Cole when you were young, and you had been enraptured by the devotion Ser Cole had to his queen.

“Well done, Lord Jon.” You say, giving him a smile and a slight nod of your head as you take a step forward, then another until you are standing before him. Then you lean in, “though I would not have protested if you bruised his jaw when you knocked him flat.”

A slight smile tugs at Jon’s lips, and your eyes dart down to them.

He sucks in a breath, then takes a step back, putting more space between you, an overly appropriate amount of space. “Thank you, Lady Lannister.”

“Y/N, or if we must use titles, Lady y/n.”

Jon swallows hard, his Adam’s apple bobbing in his pale throat. He has a nice throat, well-formed, pale with a smattering of dark stubble where it meets his chin. He must be freshly shaved, there’s a slight nick near his right ear.

You must get a hold of yourself, a nice throat? Y/N, you are shameful. You chastise yourself internally, tearing your eyes from him.

“As you wish, Lady y/n.” He whispers, his voice nearly stolen by the wind.

Jon TL: @mostclevermiss

#meg's writing #jon snow x you #jon snow x reader #jon snow x oc #jon snow imagines #jon snow imagine #jon snow #lannister!reader #tyrion lannister #tyrion is such a good dad #got fanfiction #game of thrones fanfiction #game of thrones #asoiaf #asoif fanfic

[cevansbaby-dove]

Old school love

Pairing:Steve RogersX 40s!reader

Summary: When Steve goes back in time to return the stones him and Bruce run into You and Steve falls in love.

Thanks @angelbabyyy99 for this idea

"Are you sure we should do this Cap? what if something goes wrong? what if your stuck there?"

bruce says as he types something on the time travel machine.

"You worry so much Banner! All i'm going to do it return the stones and see Peggy then i'll come back"

Bruce shakes his head and says. "okay it's ready" Steve steps up and says. "you can come with" Bruce looks at Bucky and he Buck says. "I can keep an eye on things here go on"

Bruce walks up and says. "so exciting!" Steve chuckles and nods at bucky and bucky says. "Three..two..one" BLIP

Steve looked around the room he was in, was this a hospital? or the army base?

He walks around looking and sees someone he knew...Peggy. His first love but then his eyes meet yours. You tilt your head and say. "Excuse me"

Bruce says. "oh God here we go" You walk up to Steve. "Can I help you sir?"

"uh...I uh...we I mean...yes you can Y/N" he looks at Bruce and he says. "Fine"

he drags you into a hall and says. "Um hi...i'm um..Steveie Roger..." You giggle. "haven't heard that name before but ok"

He smiles and says. "Do you trust me?" You look into his blue eyes and you slowly nod. "I feel like I know you....how do I know you?" Bruce says. "two minutes!"

Steve says. "Follow me" you three rush to the check point and say. "Sir what are we doing?" Steve looks around. "come on come on buck!"

BLIP.

You were back at the tower and Bucky smiles. "Um...Steve that's not Peg-" Steve takes your hand as you walk off the platform. "I know buck" You look around and say. "was I just kidnapped!?"

Steve says. "No no y/n your safe..." "Safe!? how is this safe!? my god" you walk down to the living room and see Nat and Tony. Tony smiles.

"well hello there" He said. You stood there and feel steve's hand on your shoulder you push your shoulder away and say. "Stay away from me!" You rush out of the tower and Steve sighs.

"what happened to getting Peggy back?" Steve looks at Tony. "I never liked her like I love Y/N she died two years ago but this way...I have her back"

Nat smiles. "wow you kidnapped her? that's new for golden boy"

Steve looks at her and says. "Stay out of this!" He storms out of the room and gets into his car and knows exactly where you went...your home.

He doesn't see you there so the second place he can think of...your gravesite..no you wouldn't go there...would you?

He drives to the gravesite and sees you at your own. He gets out of the car and walks to you. "How did...I...die?" he kneels by you. "on a mission...one I asked you to join...God I blamed myself for it years after you left...I never healed from it...please y/n stay with me"

You look at him with tears in your eyes. "I don't belong here....She did..not me"

Steve looked at the field beyond the graves and didn't say anything. You look at him. "What's your real name?" He looks at you. "Steve Rogers."

You nod slowly. "What were we?" He sits down and sighs. "friends...almost more until it was too late" You sit by him. "So why bring me back?"

He blinks. "I can't live without you y/n the team moved on from you but...I never could and when I saw you I just..I knew you had to come back"

"Let me go Steve please" You place your hand on his cheek wiping away his tears. "If you love me...let me leave this city and head back to the base-" "The base is no more y/n..it was gone years ago" You look away from him. "So what shall I do then?" You lean your head on his arm. "i'm dead so I can't be around people..can I?"

Steve chuckles. "new name?" You look at him. "I'd like that Steveie" he gasps softly at the nickname you always called him.

He might have lot the old you but he is with the new you and he was more than happy to have you back in his life.

tags:@nicoline1998enilocin @cutedisneygrl @patzammit @k-slla @armystay89 @bookishtheaterlover7

#steve rogers fluff #steve rogers one shot #steve rogers imagine #steve rogers fic #steve rogers x female reader #steve rogers x reader #steve rogers x you #steve rogers x y/n #steve rogers fanfiction #steve rogers au #steve rogers

[unecoccinellenoire]

I wish you would write a fic where Gabriel, Adrien, and Nathalie get ice cream from Andre Glacier and Gabriel’s ice cream reflects Nathalie, not Emilie

It had seemed like a good idea; Nathalie had needed reassurance after being akumatised so Adrien thought to ask, and his father was being unusually attentive and indulgent so for once he could ask an expect a yes.

In fact the sound of André Glacier calling out his wares in front of the manor had seemed like fate.

Nathalie hadn't been happy with his father at breakfast, Adrien wasn't stupid enough not to see that, but his father had clearly been making an effort to win her back over- including finally acknowledging her as part of the family even if he wasn't quite ready to admit they were dating yet despite the ring he'd given her.

The two of them sharing ice cream meant for lovers should have been the ideal way to get them to reconcile, keep Nathalie from being akumatised again in her fragile state and prevent his father from falling back into the pit of grief he'd only just managed to claw his way out from.

But even as Adrien was staring at his own familar bowl of blackberry, blueberry, and strawberry choc chip and trying to convince itself that it wasn't necessarily Ladybug- that the it could be Marinette's hair and eyes and the spots in the red meant nothing his father's hand slammed down on the counter.

"That's the wrong one," He snapped at the ice cream seller. "Peach and Mint, that's what you always give me." Adrien looked up to see a bowl that looked nothing like that.

It actually looked not dissimilar to his own, the same small scoop of blueberry sat on top but-

"No, this is right," André said, "you need something a little different now, cranberry for-"

"How things have soured between us? I'm no fool I can see who this is meant to be,"

Nathalie, it had to be. As if there was any question that it those colours for his father could be anyone else the swirl of red sauce on the dark blue sorbet matching the streak on her hair made that clear.

"Isn't that a good thing?" He interupted his father, "that,"

"That it can change?" His father snarled back, "all that establishes is that this whole thing is a marketing strategy. That it's not your soulmate or the love of your life or whatever ridiculous,"

"Love is not ridiculous," André interrupted, "you can find love again Monsieur Agreste. It finds us all."

"That's-"

"Father," Adrien tried again, "if we don't hurry up then Nathalie will come looking for us."

"I'm sure Nathalie is already watching us," Gabriel spat.

Adrien blinked and stared at his father, "you said all of that knowing she might hear it? How could you? Nathalie loves you, and she's already scared because of her illness- she was just akumatised. How could you be so horrible to her?"

"Nathalie would probably say,"

"That you forget to think about other people." The woman herself startled them.

"You shouldn't be out of the house," Adrien said, feeling his cheeks go hot with embarassment.

"Your father bought me this so I could leave the house," she said, and she held out some notes to André, "here. Give me mine and we'll be gone."

"Ah, mademoiselle," he went to scope up a white ice cream, "for his icy-"

"I don't need the spiel. You've already upset one of us. Just give me something that tastes nice."

The ice cream seller handed it over. Nathalie sighed as she took it.

Once again it was easy to know who it was. Though Adrien wondered at the scoop of what looked like raspberry ripple. It looked just like one of the cravats his father used to favour, but he wasn't wearing it now.

He hadn't in fact ever since he'd finally reached out to Adrien. It didn't make sense that it was the version of his father who hadn't moved on who André had given Nathalie. Maybe Ladybug and his father were right. Making this ice cream man just put the combinations together he wanted. Maybe there was no magic.

"Thank you," Nathalie said. "Let's go."

His father stomped his way back to the house and Adrien just did not get it. No one was saying he didn't love Adrien's maman. And he'd been looked so concerned for Nathalie after his akumatisation. He didn't know how he could treat her like this, react like this now.

"Adrien," he father said suddenly, "go find us napkins. There's some in the kitchen. Nathalie and I will meet you in the garden."

He did as he was told but his father must have misjudged because Adrien was still in earshot when he heard him say, "this means nothing."

"If you say so Gabriel."

"Don't."

"I thought you asked me to call you that."

"You know," his father said, "if I was to believe in this rubbish then that cone of yours would say you still loved me."

"Does it? Or does it say that I loved the man you were."

"You're not-" his father suddenly broke off, "oh god. You are."

"Using that is cheating." Nathalie said.

Adrien frowned and peeked out the door but he couldn't see what "that" she was talking about. It just seemed to be his father and Nathalie holding nothing but their ice creams.

"But then," his father's hold on his ice cream was tight, and Adrien feared he break it, "no. No no, these things can't be real. That's just coincedence. Yours being right doesn't mean mine is."

"Thanks for making it so clear to me," Nathalie says sounding like she's making a company annoucement, "I always wanted to hear you tell me I'm not good enough for you."

His father suddenly burst out laughing. The ice cream fell from his hands to the floor.

Adrien stared in horror. This wasn't even cruelty from his father. There was no taunting in his laughter, it was all hysteria. He looked insane. Possessed.

"You think that's the problem," he said, "oh the things I could do to you Nathalie. They'd make you blush."

"Monsieur Adrien could hear you."

"I told you not to call me that." He grabbed her arm, and Adrien almost throught he was going to kiss her from how close their faces were, "don't you get it Nathalie? I could kill that man for giving me that ice cream today. I could have had this weeks ago and- and things would be different. But he gave it to me when it's too late. When I don't have the time left to-"

"Adrien," Nathalie hissed. "He might still be in the kitchen."

His father let go of her and straightens up. "It doesn't matter. This changes nothing. The only way out is the way it always has been."

Adrien didn't understand. What way out? Why didn't they have time, Nathalie's illness? Or something else?

"You should clean up that mess." Nathalie's eyes flicked to the split ice cream on the floor, the mess that had been supposed to be love for her her, "I'm going to go out after Adrien."

Her words had his feet moving, terror at getting caught moving him despite his broken heart. Something was very wrong, but all he was sure of was that them knowing he'd heard would only make things worse.

#angst #gabenath #gabriel agreste #nathalie sancoeur #if you want a happy ice cream fic go to my ao3 #my fic #prompt fic

[sea-owl]

You know I was reading up on inheritance laws for different parts of the world back in older times and this thought kinda got into my head.

So we know the whole "boy moms" things and sons being heavily favored even in more progressive countries to this day. A part of me wonders if that is some sort of leftover survival instinct. (Bad word for it but it's the closest I can think of at this moment) It wasn't that long ago that a women couldn't really do anything or even have a bank account without her husband okaying. And even farther back, when it was extremely difficult for a woman to inheirt anything, if she could at all, they had pray for the mercy of their sons to take care of them after death of their husbands.

Jane Austen wrote about this issue in several of her works. In Sense and Sensibility Henry Dashwood made his son John Dashwood promise to take care of his sisters and stepmother after his death. John does promise this but then easily let's his wife Mrs. Dashwood talk him out of it and basically give his sisters the very bare minimum. The Dashwood sisters actually had to rely on a distant relative because their brother broke his promise. Now Mrs. Dashwood frames it to her husband like hey why would you take this money away from your son. A part of me wonders though if she was also trying to secure herself too for if she outlives her husband.

This issue also comes up again in Pride and Prejudice with Mrs. Bennett worrying for her daughters because Mr. Bennett has greatly shown he does not really care about the future after he's gone, hell he hasnt even bithered to look to who his estate will go to when he passes. He has of age daughters that he should he taking to London or higher populated areas to give them better odds of marrying and marrying well. But he doesn't like the city so they stay in the country and thankfully they got lucky that Mr. Bingley and Mr. Darcy ended up rolling into town. I also don't remember exactly how this went but Mr. Bennett also was not really setting anything aside for his daughters dowieries and instead was relying on Mrs. Bennett's dowery for that. Mrs. Bennett's dowery wasn't much either when divided among all the girls especially considering she married up when she married Mr. Bennett. Compared to Mr. Darcy who is properly taking care of his female relatives and even Lizzie's. Mr. Darcy did more for the search for Lydia then Mr. Bennett, Lydia's father!

Another example is in Bridgerton. Lord and Lady Featherington are in my opinion Mr and Mrs. Bennett coded except now we are seeing what happens when Mr. Bennett/Lord Featherington dies and have done nothing to help his daughters. The whole Featherington family was stressed about the new lord because they had no idea of what he would do to them. He very easily could have kicked them out onto the street and left them with nothing. Then he turns out to be a scam artist who only cares for himself. I don't blame Portia for getting those fake documents, but back to the son thing even in those documents it is spefically stated that the firstborn grandson would become the new lord. Still putting the Featherington sisters and Portia herself at the mercy of a male relative. Because while women could inheirt, although a difficult process and often if she was married it would fall into her husband's hands until 1870, estates that were tied to a title had to be inherited by a male relative.

So that's kinda why I'm wondering if this is why the whole boy preference still exists because women's survival not too long ago very much relyed on the mercy of their male relatives.

#ignore me im rambling #jane austen #sense and sensibility #pride and prejudice #bridgerton

[rebelliousstories]

Speak Now

Relationship: Norm McLean x Reader

Fandom: Fallout

Request: Yes by @fallout-girl219

Warnings: Fluff, Angst

Word Count: 1,250

Main Masterlist: Here

Fallout Masterlist: Here

Summary: On what is supposed to be the happiest day of her life, she cannot help but feel Norm is hiding something.

“Oh, I just love a wedding. Well we haven’t had one in a while but still.” Lucy gushed as she helped get her friend ready for her special day. Her hair was being pulled every which direction, while Stephanie tidied up her nails.

“How are you feeling?” The blonde at her hands asked, looking up briefly. The woman in the chair took a deep breath, and blew it out hard while she thought.

“Okay. Nervous, I guess.” She stated. Stephanie, having just gotten married recently, was still in her honeymoon phase and reminiscing.

“I get what you’re feeling. But once you see him in front of you, you’ll know. That’s the one. Like Bert,” her eyes held little clouds in them, “I just knew he was the one for me when we were set up.” Lucy looked towards her friend like she was eagerly taking in the story, but the same could not be said for the woman in the chair.

“I don’t know. Just… the idea though. Of marrying a complete stranger that I’ll meet at the vault exchange. It doesn’t feel right.” She lamented, expressing her concern with the practice.

“You’ll change really quick when you see him. Why I just knew that Bert was going to be the best man for me the second I saw him.” Stephanie said softly once more. They quieted their chatter as the two women began to work on the bride-to-be’s makeup. All the while, she sat there, running through every possibility.

Nothing her mind came up with helped her current predicament. A figure passed by the window into her room, that stopped just for a second to long. It was Norm. Her neighbor and life-long friend, even if he was a bit peculiar. Their eyes locked and she swore that she could see an upset look in his eyes. That was, until, it was broken off by Lucy standing in front of the bride to apply her lipstick.

She had no idea why Norm would be upset over her getting married, even to a stranger. They were just friends. Nothing more. Nothing less. Although, she had tried to get him to notice her. Taking up a new hobby to show him, only to be met with a disinterested stare while she spoke about it. Styling her hair a different way just to have him ask if she was feeling alright. Trying to find out his hobbies and having him wonder what she was doing there.

But to no avail. There was nothing to suggest that he thought about her in any other fashion than that of a friend. And even that was a maybe, if he even considered her one. She sure considered him a friend of hers. By the time she could see through the window again, Norm was gone. Her heart hurt a little bit. She should be happy. Not pinning after her friend. How could she be happy though? She was not excited to be marrying a stranger from Vault 32. That was not what she wanted. But she had to. For the good of society.

As the two women finished up their beautification of the bride in the chair, she was presented with a mirror. She had to admit; they did an amazing job. Presented with a white dress, she took the offered pen and hesitantly signed her name with the date on the inside panel. Getting dressed, her heart was speeding up considerably. Her nerves were getting the better of her. The walk down to Vault 32 was terrifying. Faces passed and all she wanted to do was scream and run. Her mother and father greeted her as she made it to the spot in front of the door to Vault 32.

“How are you feeling, honey?” Her mother asked, voice airy and sweet.

“Fine.” She replied. Her voice was cut short as a lump formed in her throat. The vault door seemed larger and more daunting now as they stood in front of it. A crowd of people came around the door to watch the exchange happen. Amongst those people, she scanned for one person, who stood at the back of the room. Norm was there. It made her feel better to have him there, but not as good as she should have been.

Hank MacLean came up to her and held her hand while pulling her towards the door. Even she could feel the sweat beading up on her, and her heart beating out of her chest. Before the door could be open though, a voice shouted above the commotion.

“Wait!” Norm pushed his way to the front of the crowd. “Wait, wait, wait.”

“What are you doing, son?” Hank whispered, about to scold him.

“She can’t get married to someone else.” He stated, looking towards the woman in a wedding dress, standing before the vault door.

“What are you talking about, Norm?” His father, once again, tried to keep a lid on the situation.

“Because I won’t allow you to marry her off. We can trade something else, but I will not have her marrying anyone else. There’s no direct bloodline between us, which means that our children won’t be directly related to anyone except our direct relatives in this community.” He finished his speech, and finally took another breath. Norm looked at his father, his friend, and back to his father. She looked relieved, and a little scared.

“You wish to marry her? Right now?” Hank pressed, waiting to see how this is going to play out.

“Yes. I’ll do it right now.” Norm stood up straighter, looking usually sure of himself as he faced the situation with conviction.

“Alright then. We’ll inform Overseer Jackson we no longer need a match. We’ll find something else of value to trade. I’ll go inform him.” Hank let go of her hand and waked out with his council. Her parents walked out as well, still confused as to what was happening. Soon, it was just the two kids who were looking down at their shoes.

“So… what was that all about?” She questioned, peeking her head out from her lashes.

“I just didn’t want you marrying someone who you didn’t know. I figured you would be more comfortable with someone you know.” Norm murmured.

“Is that all?” Once again, she pressed her friend for answers.

“Well-” he started, “maybe. Not really. I just, just…”

“Norm?” A call made his head peak up. She stepped closer and closer until they were toe to toe, and chest to chest.

“Yes? You are very close to me.” That was the last thing he was able to say until her lips pressed softly against his own. They stood there, finding their place in the moment. Unfortunately, the need for air came about which led for the pair to draw away from the other.

“I think we’re supposed to do that at the alter.” Norm whispered, which sent her into a fit of giggles. He giggled along with her and moved to hold her hand. She grasped his hand tightly and felt the sweat disappear from her palms. Norm felt a surge of confidence as he looked her in the eyes once more.

“Shall we go get married now?” He suggested, looking back into their own vault.

“Let’s go get married.” She agreed, beginning to drag him along with her. Norm followed willingly, and even ended up dragging her a little bit in his excitement to finally have the girl.

#rebelliousstories #writing #fallout imagine #fallout #norm maclean #Norma Maclean imagine #norm maclean x reader #norman maclean #Norman Maclean imagine #Norman Maclean x reader #norm Maclean x oc #norman Maclean x oc

[ramen-writes]

Prompt: The villian kidnapped the hero's love interest, she remains determined believing that the hero will come for her but days after days he doesn't.

--------

The villian kidnapped the hero's love interest, she remains determined believing that the hero will come for her but days after days he doesn't.

Afterwards the villian let's her go when he realizes the hero isn't going to come save her.

The love interest starts being more distant from everyone especially the hero and although the hero doesn't notice some of her friends do but she is still reluctant to talk to them so they let her be. The pulling away was one last silent cry for help, one last plead to the hero, to see whether the man he was was still there. Turns out he wasn't.

A few months later she is just reading in a secluded section of the library with body around with her lantern. Suddenly she senses a presence, she turns around to see the villian leaning against the bookshelf.

"What are you doing here" she asks, which he blatantly ignores and walks towards her. "There is no use in kidnapping me you know what happened the last time you..."

The villian smirks "I am not here to kidnap you, love. I am here because I wan- no need your help" he lifts her face up with his finger under her chin.

"If you think I am going to help you to destroy this village you're crazy" she pulls away.

"Not to destroy the kingdom, love, but to save it".

"What are you talking about? The only thing the city needs saving from is you" She glared at him pointedly.

"Well no need to be so harsh" he says joking, putting his hand over his heart as if her words wounded him. "but atlas I can't blame you I don't really seem to have a reason to save this kingdom... especially after how it treated me..."

Before she could ask what he meant he spoke again. "But I do think that whatever will happen to this kingdom if we don't save it will be worse than anything I could ever wish to do to it" he says.

"I still have no idea what you are talking about" the girl says, confused.

"There's this....new villian, I guess. He is more powerful than any being to walk on Earth and to defeat him we have to go on a little ...trip to the origin of this Kingdom and you, my love are the person who knows exactly where that is".

That's where she grew up the place she knew the way to by heart and the place should be in rubbles after the incident.

"Why don't you just go ask the hero? He knows about it too we both grew up there, in fact he probably remembers a lot more than me....he will be willing to help you. It's his job anyway." She says, shrugging him off.

He lets out a deep chuckle "You really think that someone with an ego as big as the hero would team up with a pitiful little villian like me even if it were to save the kingdom? No, he would just waltz his way to defeat someone with powers he doesn't understand and wound up dead. That is why I need you, love"

"Stop calling me that".

"Oh sorry, I didn't know you still liked that fool, I would have assumed after the hero forgot all about your existence you would no longer be willing to be a pawn to him".

She tenses, he had gone too far but of course he had, he was the villian, he doesn't care. She turns around and starts to walk away, she needs to get out of here before she gets any more ideas of teaming up with him, he was the VILLIAN for god's sake.

The villian seems to realize that he crossed the line. He runs up to her grabbing her arm. He feels her tense under his touch and drops it. "Wait, I am sorry, I didn't mean to upset you I really do need your help with this".

She stops while her back still faces him and says "You really don't need my help, you're smart you can figure it out" but he heard what she wasn't saying, what he didn't want to admit. He'd also grown up there, something he'd liked not to mentioned.

She turns to look at him, armed crossed, looking for an reaction, whether she finds what she's looking or not the villian can't tell, as she sighs dropping her arms to her side.

"Like I said, I'm sure if you talk to the hero properly he'll be willing to help, you really don't need me or my help." She turns around again, this time determined to leave.

The villian grumbles "I already told you the hero won't listen to me. And I DO need you because you are the only one who actually cares about this kingdom, this village. All the hero wants is fame and power and you saw this happen when he chose to be there for a stupid award instead of saving you even though YOU are the reason he even got to where he is now, you actually care about the village enough to stay in the dark getting no recognition while the hero gets all the credit and popularity for the work you do, it's you who would be willing to work besides someone like me if it meant saving the place and people you love and it's you who I need for this quest" He finishes. He needed her to help him, he needed someone who cared about the city enough to put aside their differences for it.

"Okay..." He finally hears her say her voice cracking, she was trying to hold back her tears. "Wha-" he hears a few more sniffles before she finally turns and walks towards him

"I said okay. I'll hear you out and then we can discuss exactly how we are going to get to where you want me to take you" She said with determination in her voice and that fire in her eyes. The fire the hero put out.

She was back to herself, maybe not fully but she was going to be.

Herself before she became another shadow of the hero, the one he remembered, the one who she used to be when they were kids, the one before the hero broke her down, the only real villian in his world was the hero not because he stopped the villain's plan but for the way he took her away from him, just to treat her like she wasn't the best thing that ever happened to him, like she wasn't the reason his world went round, like she wasn't brighter than any star he would ever see li-like she wasn't worth every damn thing in the world and more, because if it was the villian, he would have treated her like his Queen, he wouldn't have thrown her away the way the hero did, it broke his heart when he saw her confidence fade every day the hero didn't come to her rescue because if it was him would have made sure that NOTHING ever hurt her, he would have made sure no one dared to go against her because that's what she deserves, she deserves to be treated like she's the sun on a rainy day, the stars during the night, the light at the end of a dark tunnel because that's what she was, that's what she is to him.

And if the hero wasn't going to make sure she is treated exactly as she deserves than he would because the hero had his chance, and now it was his turn.

#tumblr writers #tumblr writing community #writing #writing prompts #writing inspiration #writers #writing prompt #writeblr #writers on tumblr #writerscommunity #villian

[kateis-cakeis]

rewatching bbc merlin really has me like buzzing in my mind with so many thoughts. Like I'm kinda watching it backwards atm going from S5 to S4, I think I will jump around 3, 2, and 1 but just,,,, there is so much especially in S5 that makes me !!!!!!!

Honestly, I feel like this fandom has to give the writers more credit. Like they did a damn good job, and to me, it's such a good tragedy. Especially how S5 plays out, it takes everything and just tears you down, and down, and down. It's perfect, perfect with flaws! But still perfect

#bbc merlin #merlin #yeah idk on that note about the writers - this fandom is way too harsh #like i know we all have ideas on how it should have gone #but i think we lose how it's still a story that they planned from the start to end like that #they did their job they set up from the beginning and it is good as a tragedy imo as someone who has studied tragedies #hot take but the characterisations are consistent - i mean like as consistent as they get for a 5 series show #they did better than most and i dont feel like any characters get like their previous characterisation assassinated #that includes Arthur and Morgana btw they clearly have arcs that work well and where Arthur's is a slower progression - Morgana's is like a #lit match - slow at first but when it gets going it's going and then gone - it's wonderful #i mean look at s5 it literally starts by talking about Arthur's bane aka his fatal flaw aka his hamartia #which is himself and i dont think it's as much as the overdone hubris but rather Arthur's love and trust for others - but that like in many #tragedies can be debated #okay something else that can be debated is the peripeteia - i think a good example of it is the Disir episode because that's when Arthur's #fate becomes sealed anything after that point is fruitless because the Triple Goddess has decided he must die because of his rejection of #the Old Religion - it's a reversal of fortune in a sense that Mordred is alive to play his part in Arthur's death - as Merlin puts it. You #could see it more as Merlin's peripeteia rather than Arthur's but still #if we wanna debate it more Arthur's peripeteia would probablyyyy be when Mordred stabs him because that's when his death becomes imminent #it's a reversal of fortune because he's dying from that point forward rather than a strong king he is a man dying #the anagnorisis is another point to make. You could say for Arthur his anagnorisis is all of the finale - like this constant realisation of #Merlin and his magic and realising all that he missed all that he didnt see and now it's too late because he's dying #I'd say Merlin's anagnorisis comes with the whole Mordred and Kara ordeal and how he realises his mistake and how it's gonna cause the #downfall of not just himself but Arthur too #then catharsis - see i think it's the only part where the tragedy falters because do we get catharsis from Arthur's death and Merlin's #immortality - where he's still at the lake centuries later? #i think in some ways yes and in other ways no because I don't think BBC Merlin is following an Aristotle's tragedy #i think catharsis comes more from Morgana's half of the tragedy - seeing her die - and i think further catharsis comes from knowing it's no #over forever that there will be a second chance for redemption for both Merlin and Arthur #but it is a more difficult one for sure #anyway point is that S5 specifically has a tragedy storyline that is very well done and we should credit that more tbh

[cnl0400]

I understand why they didn't introduce Michael in the past but I think we needed more people suspecting MC was Not From Here™, they should have played More with the idea that anybody could unmask MC/Solomon true motives and Michael already knew, It would have been better for him taunting MC with the idea of telling the truth to everyones else unless they stop making pacts with the brothers (Bcuz y'know, thats what Nightbringer wants, Right? And whatever he wants must be... Not good?)

In earlier seasons the tease the idea of two Rings of Light existing in the same timeline, can you imagine the interactions?

Michael: Wow MC! that's a pretty ring you have there!

MC: ... Yeah...

Michael: It looks identical to the one I have here, see? *Flashes His own Ring of Light to MC*

MC: Ah... *Gulp*

#obey me #obey me nightbringer #see I don't like how everyone believes that MC is just a normal human from the human world and nobody questions this #Like I know Barbatos has his moments when he's like 'I know what you are ;) ' #but It's not like he's did give you away to Diavolo or anything. so it feels a bit pointless #I wish they gave more tension with this Idea... like they could catch you if you messed up too much with the timeline #like I want people breathing down my neck... Barbatos. Michael. Nightbringer IDC I just want the tension #this post was in my drafts for a long time for like a theory post but like... we're already back in the present... it's pointless now #feel like if they wanted to do time travel fuckery they should have gone all the way. go crazy idc... #we should have seen two solomons. maybe that'll fix me

[lgbtlunaverse]

I don't think we talk about xiyao exes to lovers enough. I understand that in canon the "breakup" ended with death and imo it was never going to end any other way (I have a lot of feelings about how jgy is doomed from the start) but even in aus where survival is an option I barely ever see their full potential realized. The fact that there is this heartbreaking gap that is between them now, and yet that, despite it all, they can't stop loving each other. When you have drama this good, why is the conflict relegated to outside threats and we end up with little to no exploration of internal strife, of the fact that these guys have been living a domestic lie for a decade (I cannot stress this enough, the amount of parralels between xiyao and jgy's marriage to qin su are staggering.)

And let me be clear I will NEVER begrudge anyone their hurt/comfort and wanting their faves who are denied happiness and peace at every turn to find it. god knows I need that sometimes. Or even the less healthy but so emotionally devastating fics where the caring isn't good, and it doesn't fix anything- might only make things worse, actually- and xichen ends up recreating his father's fate. I love all of those things. But. Man. This divorce was over 11 years in the making it should take AT LEAST that long to resolve. What do you do when the person you trusted the most lied to you for years? What do you do when the only person who's ever believed in you loses that faith so completely they'd hurt you over a lie without hesitation? I need me some xiyao who try to get over each other for 20 years and fail. I need them to meet after not seeing each other for years and have it hurt like no time has passed at all. I need arguments where no one raises their voice but that feel like a screaming match anyway. Do you see my vision?? Do you see what we could have?

(if fics that do exacly this are out there, recs are of course welcome)

#mdzs #meng yao #xiyao #lan xichen #jin guangyao #rs: i wish it could've been you #this might make some people really mad #at the idea that jgy has any right to have grievances with xichen but uh... #i'm not interested in arguing with jgy antis. go scream at a wall #or a different camp who DO like xiyao but who are like 'but xichen was lied to jgy wouldn't blame him' #the fact that it was a lie makes it WORSE you guys know that right? #some of you have never been the proverbial boy who cried wolf #and had people assume everything you say is a lie because you've lied in the past #and good for you! You SHOULD be honest with those you love i'm very happy for all of you #but also. lmao. you have no idea how that feels. #i have read aus where they break up and get back together of course #but i always end up feeling like people see the conflict as an obstacle? a thing to get past so we can get them back together #and not.. you know. the most interesting part. the selling point #I think in a slightly lower stakes au xiyao should wait a few years get back together because they love each other and then break up AGAIN #when they realize that the old relationship they had with that easy trust is gone forever. love isn't enough to bring that back #you can build something new. including a new kind of trust just as potent. but that old easy kind is gone. #and i think they should try to get it back because it was the best thing they ever had #and get fucked up about it when they realize they can't #and it should take them well over a decade to mourn it until they're ready to let it go and try to make something new of it #PLEASE let me talk about the xichen qin su parralels please let me talk about how rusong is nmj-coded #not in personality but in the function he has narratively as someone that can never stop haunting jgy. #the fact that nmj's death and rusong's birth were likely extremely close to each other timeline wise LET'S TALK ABOUT IT

[coldflasher]

the flash should have ended with barry quitting his job at ccpd to become a stay-at-home husband and that's on that

#the fun part is it genuinely could have ended like that. i have no idea. still haven't watched it #NOBODY TELL ME BTW #THAT IS NOT ME ASKING FOR SPOILERS. I'LL GET TO IT #but honestly it's the only thing that makes sense. i have genuine reasons for this #namely: how the fuck is iris. an incredible but ordinary non-speedster woman. meant to look after a baby speedster #ordinary babies are already making it their life's mission to die. eating shit they shouldn't. rolling over and suffocating. #idk i don't know about kids but i know babies are breakable and will roll off tables and god knows what else #now imagine you have a toddler and she can literally move at hundreds of miles per hour #how the fuck was iris meant to cope? #i still maintain that when they did the 'she put a power dampener in nora' plot it should have been like. not a control thing #but also yeah. literally a control thing because HOW THE FUCK ELSE WAS SHE MEANT TO LOOK AFTER HER BABY #if barry is gone and she's a single mother. assuming no other speedsters are around to help her. what the fuck else was she meant to do? #of course she had to suppress her powers because how can you stop your toddler running into traffic if she can run 1000 times faster than u #how do you keep her in her crib at night if she can phase through the bars? #in that sense. yeah it's fucked up. but you can understand it. you can empathize. what other options did she have? #so yeah stay-at-home dad barry is the only thing that makes sense for genuine safety reasons #he is quite literally the only one who can keep up with the kids #they dropped the ball on nora is all i'm saying. again. fic that lives in my head where original nora's death actually means something #and we get a new nora who is ACTUALLY a different person. as she would be considering her whole upbringing was different #and she has to somehow live up to the memory of a version of her that was erased from time #part of barry and iris can't accept that that specific version of their daughter is gone and it's not her #THE ANGST POTENTIALLLL #in my head she doesn't even go by nora because she's like. THAT'S NOT ME. SHE DIED. WHY CAN'T YOU ACCEPT WHO I AM AND LOVE ME FOR ME #she goes by dawn bc yeah im still kinda sad they didnt use that name #fictional characters give ur kid an original name instead of always naming them after dead ppl challenge #my fics #my meta

[lecliss]

I've still been fucked up ever since I found out that(according to an actually plausible timeline), Konoha has only existed for like 90-something or whatever years??? It's not like. Fucking 200 years old or whatever. And that Madara died when he was 74 but he had himself hooked up to, fuckin what was it??? The Gedo statue?? A tree?? Whatever. In order to keep himself alive and you look at him all old and crusty and think he's like. Over a hundred at least. But no, that man's 74. He's just an average fucking grandpa!!! And Hashirama had been dead for a LONG while, so he actually died pretty young all things considered. And that also means Mito died like. Fuckin. I'm guesstimating here but in her 60s I guess???? But it's a significant thing that the Uzumakis have longer than average lifespans so like. What the fuck is the average life expectancy in Naruto for this bullshit to make sense???

#ever since i found out mada died at 74 ive been thinking those obi grandpa theories/allegations could actually be true #cuz doesnt he actually call obi his descendant at one point or something??? i mean i do think he meant that metaphorically #but at that age it actually could be possible #mada just woulda had to have a kid later than hashi did to make sense of the age difference between obi and tsun@de #and his grandma from the anime isnt canon so we can discount her in this equation #still fucked up tho over all hidden villages therefore being younger than a century #i think in my head it just feels like kages should be kages from like. their 20s or whenever the get the position #to like. their 70s or 80s or whenever they die #ya know like hiruzen made it to 68 i think??? and only died cuz of oro #but then again he did step down for mina like. 15 whatever years ago if were using 12yo nart for comparison #so going by 'they have the position for like a couple decades. maybe 2 MAYBE 3 then pass it on to someone else' #yeah it would then make sense for konoha to be on kage number 5 within a century #it just. doesnt really occur to me i guess. am i the only one fucked up by realizing this??? or has it always been obvious to everyone else? #granted when i was a kid i was ALWAYS so confused by how there could be a 4th hokage when the current guy is called the 3rd #i just never picked up on the idea that the 3rd returned to the position when the 4th died lmao #so yeah of course this has always gone right over my head #personal