#also it is cold in france right now

[flammedoudoune]

Everyone going "the thing you miss the most when you leave Japan is the smart toilets", I get you, but also, I arrived in Paris, paid 11 euros for two drinks and a yogurt, and this made me want to cry a little bit.

#thinking about her* #*eki bento in a pretty box with a bunch of different delicious foods all compartimented that costed around 5 euros #also it is cold in france right now #it wasn't cold in japan :(

[dilemmaontwolegs]

Ghost Whisperer || CL16

AN: another one from the archives of forgotten fics.

Summary: gifted with the ability to talk with the dead, you meet a man who wants you to take him to Monaco to check on his godson.

Warnings: mentions of death

Your family holiday had taken a turn when you reached Nice, France, and found the apartment that they had rented was already occupied. They were oblivious to the man who had lived there a decade earlier but your sixth sense had spotted him the moment you walked in the door.

“You’re going to love him,” Jules repeated for what seemed like the hundredth time that morning.

“This isn’t Tinder,” you said to the apparition sitting in the passenger seat of your rental car. “I’m just going to find your friend so you can finally rest.”

“What’s Tinder?”

“Nevermind.”

“And he’s not just my friend,” he corrected. “He’s my godson, he’s family.”

You sighed as you imagined how the conversation would go with a child. It was hard enough trying to explain your gifts to adults who understood what you were saying, they just didn’t believe you. Everyone thought you were just trying to scam them when you said you had a message from a loved one.

“He’s the kindest kid you’ll ever meet. You’ll see.” Jules smiled as you followed his directions and crested over the mountain range to see Monaco in all its summer glory. “Beautiful, right?”

You were awestruck by the sight of the sun on the sea and his smile grew at your loss for words. It was a shame you had to drive when all you wanted to do was sit and watch the city grow before your eyes. Unfortunately it took a huge amount of energy for a ghost to even move a feather so there was no hope of Jules taking over the steering wheel for you.

Once inside the city he directed you to a home that the family had lived in and hopefully still did. The white door had a large brass door knocker in the shape of a lion and it was cold to the touch when you grabbed it.

“Bonjour,” a friendly middle aged woman answered and Jules breathed her name like prayer. “Puis-je vous aider?”

“Do you speak English?”

“Yes, is there something I can help you with?”

You looked to your left and Jules gave you an encouraging smile. “I was hoping to speak to Charles. Is he here?”

You were aware it was a weekday and he was likely at school but it was still disappointing to see Pascale shake her head. “He hasn’t lived here for some time, are you a friend of his?”

She was already growing defensive, crossing her arms over her chest as she waited for your answer. “No, we don’t know each other but a mutual friend asked me to pass a message to him.”

“Aw, we are friends,” Jules chuckled and you had to fight to resist rolling your eyes.

“Perhaps I should call my son,” she murmured as she held a hand up. “Just wait here a moment.”

She closed the door behind her and you waited impatiently as you shifted on your feet. “What happens if she doesn’t give up his address?”

“The city isn’t that big, I’m sure we can find him.” His attention turned to the door and he went to nudge you but his elbow went straight through, causing goosebumps to travel across your skin.

“Stop doing that,” you growled as the door opened. Pascale gave you an odd look as she found you alone waiting, but she didn’t ask who you were talking to as she held a phone out.

“He wants to know who this mutual friend is.”

You took the phone and raised it to your ear. “Hello, is this Charles?”

“Yes, now give me one good reason why I shouldn’t call the police and have you trespassed?”

You reeled back at the animosity, but also the depth of his voice. He was not the child you had envisioned. “I have done nothing wrong.”

“I understand you are a fan and I appreciate that, but you cannot just keep showing up at my mother’s house and expect to find me. There is a boundary and this is crossing it.”

You pulled back the phone to look at it in disgust before you turned and took a step away from his mother. “I don’t know who you think you are, hot shot, but I was only doing this because your friend asked me to. For some reason he thinks highly of you, but I can’t say the same.”

The seconds dragged on and if it wasn’t for his soft breathing you would have thought the call disconnected. “Who?” he finally asked.

You took a steadying breath knowing this was almost always the point that you lost their interest. “Jules.”

“Goodbye.”

“Charles!” Your ears rang with Jules’ outburst and the screen pixelated before returning to normal to show the call was still connected. Charles’ breathing turned ragged as he choked on his tongue knowing the voice he had heard. Doubt and other emotions roiled his insides but he couldn’t hang up no matter how much he wanted to.

An address rattled off his heavy tongue and Jules recognised the street name, giving you a nod. “I’ll see you soon,” you said as you handed the phone back to his mother.

“Please don’t hurt him,” she asked as she pocketed the device.

“I just want to pass on a message and go back to my holiday,” you promised, though she frowned at the evasive words that created more questions she held back.

By force of habit, her frown deepened when you nodded your head to the empty space beside you and muttered, “Come on then.”

Jules lingered another moment, his hand reaching for Pascale’s only for her to shiver and wrap her arms around herself. With a sigh, he turned away and heard the door click shut behind him.

“She was like a second mother to me,” he said quietly as he caught up. “The kindest woman I knew.”

“You also said Charles would be great but so far that is not how I am feeling.”

Jules had nothing to say to that, but it had been 10 years since his death. Perhaps a decade had changed Charles while Jules remained the same.

–

The apartment building was as pretty as the rest that you had passed but the afternoon sun left a shadow climbing its walls and you couldn’t help feeling like it was an omen as you buzzed his apartment number. Instead of answering, the front door unlocked and you stepped inside apprehensively. Each step on the tiled floor echoed and you followed the apartment numbers as you climbed the stairs to Charles’.

His door was already opened, a handsome man leaning against the doorway, and his eyes narrowed as they scanned you with each step closer. You wanted to elbow Jules for not telling you his godson was Adonis reincarnated but Jules was in his own state of shock seeing Charles grown into adulthood. The boy he knew was long gone, this was a man.

“My mother said to listen to you, that is the only reason you are here.” He stood up straighter, blocking you from seeing the inside of his home. “Say what you need to then go.”

You looked at Jules but he wasn’t any help as his jaw still hung open. You decided to go with honesty but really you were just taking a shot in the dark, he didn’t seem like the type to believe anything that was going to come out of your mouth. “My AirBnB in Nice came with a ghost named Jules and he wanted me to find you.”

Charles' hands dropped limp at his sides before a sharp laugh erupted and he stepped back into this apartment. He reached for his door, ready to slam it closed when Jules emerged from his stupor and whispered a few words for you to repeat.

“Bring it home, underdog.”

Charles froze at the words and nearly stumbled as he spun around. Anger painted his face and he closed the distance in a few strides as he shoved a shaking finger in your face. “What did you say?”

You swallowed at the animosity in his tone before straightening your spine and looking him in the eye. “The only way you show these guys you’re not a charity case is to prove them wrong and win, kid.”

His nose twitched as he struggled to understand the words he had heard once before. “Who told you to say that?”

You jutted your thumb at Jules. “You know who, the same man that told me.”

An array of emotions flitted across his face before settling on disbelief. “That’s not possible.”

“I wish,” you murmured before looking at Jules, and you felt bad. “Sorry.”

“I wouldn’t want that gift either,” he admitted. “Can you tell him he looks strong? And he finally grew into his big head.”

“Jules says you look good.”

“I said strong.”

“Strong, whatever,” you corrected. “He thinks you look strong. And you had a big head. Are you still racing?”

Charles followed your eyes to the space beside you but no matter how hard he tried to focus he couldn’t see anything. “I must be crazy.”

You snorted a laugh at what Jules said before repeating it. “No, you were crazy when you drove for years without knowing how to use the brakes.”

“I was eight,” Charles defended himself before realising that was not something widely known and something akin to wonder brightened his face. “Jules?”

“Yeah, kid, I’m here.”

Charles stepped aside and waved a hand in, urging you to follow him to the dining room table. He grabbed three bottles of water without thinking and then frowned as he put one back, a look of sadness washing over him.

“Don’t feel sad,” you said as you accepted the water. “Good things came about because of his death.”

Charles scoffed and untwisted the bottle cap with more force than necessary, spilling water over his hands. “Not for me.”

“You’re alive because of him, and that makes him happy,” you said, taking his hand across the table and squeezing it. “Because of Jules they made the halo and that saved your life, and others too. He would take the sacrifice any day.”

“Always,” Jules echoed. He placed his hand on top of yours and it drifted through, sending goosebumps up yours and Charles’ arms.

“Jules,” you growled as you shook your hand out, but Charles stared at his in wonder.

“I felt him,” he whispered in amazement. “Mon Dieu!”

—

The next few hours passed by with an onslaught of questions, mostly ‘how’. How do you do it? How long have you seen them? How did you find out?

Slowly the questions became more personal.

“Do you do this for work?”

“No way, well kind of, maybe…I’m studying history. It does help when the old professor still hangs out in the library. He’s happy to help whenever I have questions.”

“Isn’t that cheating?”

“It’s no different to a tall person playing basketball. Success is just playing to your strengths.”

“Is talking to the dead really a strength?” Jules asked as he crossed his legs and drummed his fingers on his lips, pondering. “Surely you are just missing out on life.”

“I don’t think you’re one to talk, you’re still here when you could be enjoying whatever afterlife awaits.”

“I wish I could hear him,” Charles sighed. “Why hasn’t he moved on?”

You shrugged and looked at Jules for an answer.

“I promised Hervé I would watch over him.”

Charles’ eyes misted and his head bowed as he tried to hide how he wiped the tears away. “I’m an adult now, Jules, you don’t have to stick around for me.”

“I see that now,” he said with a sad smile as he stood up and ruffled Charles' hair. “I love you, kid.”

Charles’ breath shuddered from his lungs as he felt the large hand on his head for a second before it disappeared. “Is he…is he gone?”

You watched Jules step out onto the balcony and warmth flooded the room as he faded into the shimmering light.

“Now he is,” you swallowed the lump in your throat that always came with the final goodbye. Standing up, you looked to the door and wondered if you should quietly leave but when you looked back at Charles, his eyes red and cheeks wet, you knew you couldn’t leave him that way.

Walking around the table, you took a seat next to Charles and took his hand. He broke away from staring silently at the wood grain and knots in the table and sniffled. “Thank you.”

“I would say anytime but…”

You smiled as Charles managed a small chuckle. “I think once is enough, but I wonder…” he looked around the room. “You haven’t seen my father have you?”

You shook your head. “There wasn’t anyone at your mother’s house either. It’s likely if he was at peace then he’s already moved on.”

“Good, that’s good.” He took a deep breath and wiped his eyes, wincing at the dampness on his hands. “Sorry.”

“I’m used to it, you cry as much as you want. There isn’t exactly a right way to feel when it comes to this,” you admitted as you looked out of the balcony to see the marina looking even more beautiful.

“I don’t know how to thank you.” He caught your lingering gaze and cleared his throat. “Maybe I could show you the city?”

“You’re probably in shock. You should rest,” you said with a shake of your head. “But I’m pretty sure I saw Monaco on my mum’s itinerary for next week. Maybe I’ll see you around.”

Charles reached into his pocket and pulled out his cellphone. “Or maybe you could call me?”

#charles leclerc imagine #charles leclerc fanfic #f1 fanfic #f1 imagine #formula one imagine #formula 1 fanfic #formula one fanfiction #charles leclerc x reader

[cumulo-stratus]

Communication Issues

(GIF NOT MINE)

Plantonic!BAU team x french!reader

Description: reader is from France and lived there until he was 11/12 and then moved to america and his first language is french. He also has a little bit of an accent. Basically reader is new to the team and it is their first late night back home on the jet with him. And basically they learn that when hes tired he reverts back to his mother tongue.

CW: possible swearing, I can't think of anything else

A/N: I'm thinking of making a series about this, like just funny scenarios related to the reader being French, if y'all have any ideas let me know! Also reader is gonna be loosely based off me when im rly tired cus i get kinda giggly/floppy/goofy. ( also sry it's short)

French, translation

3rd person POV:

after a hard, and long case the team was very ready to go home. They had found a 9 yr old girl and rescued her from a man holding her in his basement to torture her. And even though it took the profilers almost 3 full days with almost no sleep to find her. To say they were tired was understatement. It was almost 2 am when they trudged onto the plane, all tired physically and emotionally. Y/N was the last on the plane and decided to take the couch to get some sleep. Just as he was sitting down Reid plopped down next to him. (Y/N and Reid liked to sit next to each other so they could read together)

“Désolé reid, je veux lire avec toi, mais je suis trop fatigué pour ça” (sorry reid, i wanna read with you but im too tired for that) you said to him, slightly slurring your words. “Huh?” Spencer looked up at you with a small crease between his eyebrows. The switch in language caught the rest the rest of the team off guard as well (evidently by the looks on their faces) you peered at them just as perplexed and asked “Qu'est-ce qui ne va pas?” (Whats wrong?).

“Dont worry guys I’ll talk to him” said spencer with a little giggle at his new friends antics. Morgan gave spencer a little knowing look and eyebrow wiggle at his conversation with Y/N, despite having no idea what they were saying. “Mon biche, tu parle français maintenant, pas anglais.” (Darling, you’re speaking french right now, not english) says spencers with a small smile. a look of understanding dawned your features and you said “je suis?! Oh c'est pas grave, Oh, tu n'as besoin que de me comprendre de toute façon.” (I am?! Thats okay, you’re the only one who needs to understand me anyways) you say with a wink ad a giggle. Spencers cheeks went red and emily gave him a questioning look. “Y/N, tu fais quoi?” (y/n, what are you doing?). you just gave him a mischievous look before putting your head on his shoulder and snuggling into him to fall asleep. The rest of the team got bored of making fun of the pair and began their own conversations or trying to sleep. But after a minute or two the team heard and hushed but strict “shhhhh!” coming from their resident genius. “You guys are so loud! hes asleep!” said spencer’s while he gestured vicariously to the sleeping figure drooped over his left side. “hush up pretty boy, your little boyfriend over theres out cold dont worry about it.” said derek with a teasing smile. spencers cheeks turned even more red than before if hat was even possible and started stuttering about the sleep man not being his boyfriend. “okay, okay, hes not your boyfriend,” said derek with his hands up in surrender after spencer kept spluttering on about y/n not being his boyfriend.

(small time skip)

As the plane landed people began packing up their things and getting ready to get off the plane. But y/n and Spencer had moved and when the team looked over they found the two agents passed out on top of each other and snoring lightly.

THE END

#criminal minds #criminal minds x reader #criminal minds x male reader #Criminal minds x French reader #Criminal minds x autistic reader #French reader #French speaking reader #bau team #Bau #Male reader #ftm reader #Spencer reid #spencer reid x male reader #Spencer reid x ftm reader #Spencer reid x French reader

[mangowafflesss]

Plz don’t ask me what this is buttt it’s something I wrote while a spider crawled into my shoe and bit me 🙃

As you wash your hands before preparing your dinner for the night you take a glance out of the window at the house across the road. The ‘For Sale’ sign that had been hanging up for months has a now red ‘Sold’ sticker slapped over the top.

It was a rather large house made for a big family with its five bedrooms and three bathrooms. The old family that used to live there relocated to Australia since their children were young and it would be better to bring them up somewhere more exciting. You still lived in your childhood home after your parents moved to France, the house was paid off years ago so your parents let you keep it. They were very rich.

You don’t speak to your parents as much only if it’s a birthday or when you visit them at Christmas time but other than that you’re quite lonely here. You have some friends that you occasionally go out with but you just don’t feel as connected with them as you used to.

Pulling yourself away from the window you grab your ingredients to make dinner. As you’re cooking your mind wonders to who would move in, you haven’t seen anyone view the house in a while. Would it be a cute couple who the want to extend their family? An already big family? Someone who fosters children? Maybe it’ll be a care home for children? You decide to stop thinking and carry on with your dinner.

The next morning you wake up at 6am wanting to go for a morning jog. You haven’t had chance to do it in a while and you felt yourself slipping into the state where you can’t be bothered to do anything. You grab some leggings and a shirt with a jacket to throw on top, it was still early in the morning so it would be cold.

You grab a water bottle and open your front door, locking the door behind you. Finding the right playlist for your run you nod your head and begin to walk towards the woods near your house. It had a great trail and no one was going to be there at this time.

Your run lasted for 45 minutes as you got bored and was freezing your tits off, you tried to do some exercises to keep yourself warm but it wouldn’t work you were cold to the bone. On your walk back to your home you see two cars parked outside of the house over the road. There was a light on inside and you tried to subtly look inside without them seeing you but no one was inside of the room you were looking through.

You unlock your front door and walk inside throwing your water bottle onto the entrance table. You kick off your trainers and go upstairs to take a nice warm shower.

At 9am you clean your house and gather all your laundry that has been piled up for weeks. Also you needed to wash your work uniform before later. At 12pm you make some lunch and eat it while watching your favourite show. You fell asleep half way through and wake up at 2, you put your laundry away and start to get ready for work. Your uniform was just a plain black trousers with a black shirt with the restaurants name embroidered above your left breast.

After making sure everything was okay and not going to set on fire anytime soon you lock your door and get into your car. Arriving at the place you work you look at the time and see you’re 10 minutes late, cursing under your breath you speed walk through the staff door and quickly sign in.

As you round the corner to your locker you’re met with your manager. “You’re late!” Her angry expression makes you internally roll your eyes. “Yes and I’m very sorry, there was traffic…” she hums under her breath and her face breaks out into a big smile “Well if you’re really sorry… you’ll wait the tables today” you actually roll your eyes now as she walks away from you.

You grab your apron and wrap it around your waist making it look smaller than it is, you walk up to the bar and meet your favourite co worker. “Hey Dan” you mutter and he senses your sullen attitude “What’s up?” He asks while wiping down the bar “Mandy’s put me on tables, god I hate not being behind the bar” you rest your head on your hand as you lean on the bar. He gives you a sympathetic look and pats you on the back “Cheer up kid, just don’t be late again” you flip him off and begin to walk over to the new group of people walking through the door. You give them your fake customer service smile and greet them.

Your work hours dragged on and after your 30 minute break you saw a group of four men walk into the place. You’ll admit your cheeks were starting to hurt after all this fake smiling but you just know your manager will kill you if she sees you without a smile plastered on your face. “We have a reservation, should be under the name Price” you type away on the tablet for a reservation under that name and frown “I’m sorry there’s not anything for that name”

The man with the beanie looks at the other man with a Mohawk and gives him a stern look. The shorter man pulls out his phone and frantically types on his phone “Oh shit ca- John I booked it for the wrong day” the older looking man shakes his head and lets out a sigh. A taller man who is wearing a mask that covers the bottom half of his face pipes in “Way to go Johnny can’t give you a simple job without fucking it up” his voice was deep and commanding making a shiver go down your spine.

You look at the available tables and see a couple that aren’t filled due to it being a Wednesday and you’re not that busy. “If it’s just a table of four we have some that are free, if you want” you give them a smile and stand there awkwardly as they confer with one another. They all start to nod and the older man tells you to lead the way, grabbing some menus you begin to walk.

You look on the tablet and see either a table near the bar or in the corner of the room free that have four chairs around them. You take them towards the one in the corner and point towards it still giving them a friendly smile. “I hope this one is okay, I saw you booked a corner table on your reservation” they all speak their confirmations and sit down, you see the man with the mask looking around his surroundings and you walk over to the divider. You pull it out and seclude the table away from onlookers, you give the man a comforting smile and grab your notebook and pen.

“Can I get you any drinks?” They all give their requests to the older man which you find strange as if they couldn’t have just told you themselves but you shake it off anyway “We’ll all take whatever’s on tap love” you nod towards him and take off towards the bar ignoring how the way he called you love made you feel.

You go behind the bar and grab four pint glasses and filling them with whatever beer you had in the keg. “How’s your night princess” Dan hums from behind you making you step onto his toe “Great” your lips press into a firm line.

You carry the four beers over to the table and place them in front of everyone. “Are you guys ready to order? Or do you want me to give you a few more minutes?” You know exactly what the answer is, with men like these they don’t mess around they order what they want and that’s it no thinking required.

“Three steaks all medium rare and a cheeseburger, all with chips” the same man relays the order to you and you write it down on your notepad. You feel the masked man staring at you which makes you feel uneasy making you shift your weight from one foot to the other. “Anything else?” He looks around to the others and shakes his head no.

Walking into the back room to the kitchen you place their order and go back out to the front by the bar. “God my feet are killing me” you say leaning against the bars wooden top. “You complain too much” you give Dan a death glare and hear someone calling for you from one of the tables.

Walking over to the table you see an older couple looking at you with a stern look “Yes? Do you need anything?” The woman scoffs and pushes her plate towards you which then slides off the table. “My food is cold” you look down at the plate that is now smashed on the floor by your feet coating your shoes in a carbonara sauce. ‘Yeah well now it’s fucking ruined you stupid bitch’

“I’m so very sorry I’ll bring you another” you turn around and signal for Dan to go clean the floor while you speak to the cooks in the back, you complain to your favourite chef who gives you a sympathetic look and a nod towards you. You grab a cloth and clean off your shoes and go back out to the front.

You see Dan hasn’t done anything besides placing a wet floor sign down making you tense your jaw in anger. Grabbing a dustpan and brush you gather as much of the broken plate and food as you can and throw it in a bin. The woman is talking shit about you to her husband while you’re cleaning and all you can think about it slicing their ankles with the broken porcelain.

As you’re cleaning the floor you don’t see the woman tilting her glass of red wine over your head. A loud shriek falls from your lips as you feel the wine drip onto your head. Standing up you see the woman with a grin on her face as she sees the state that you’re in. “Get out” you say to the woman making her look at her husband in shock.

“Excuse you? I’m a regular here you can’t kick me out” she says completely gobsmacked at what you said, before you can speak a voice comes from behind you “You’ve just harassed one of my members of staff Mary. I think you should go” your manager Mandy lays a hand on your shoulder and tells you to go clean off in the toilets.

You walk past the multiple tables of people and go into the toilets. You grab a few paper towels and wet them before dragging them over your face getting all of the wine off. Your hair was sticky but at least it wasn’t much to make a difference, pulling your hair back you cover as much of the wine stain with your hair and tie it with a bobble. “What a fucking cunt” you say out-loud and exit the toilets.

Your manager is outside of the toilets and you let out a sigh “You can go home if you want” she says and you shake your head, you only have an hour left of your shift so you might as well continue. Your manager may be a bitch to you but if anyone ever hurt you she would intervene.

Grabbing the now ready orders you carry them to the table of four men. “Cheeseburger and three steaks” you say and hand them to the allocated people. You walk away and go greet some more customers by the door and seating them.

As you’re walking past you hear a polite excuse me and look over at the table of men, “Could I have some ketchup please?” His voice was soft and you swear you melted right on the spot. You go to get some from the closest station and return to the table.

“Here you go is there anything else?” You say handing him the packets of ketchup “No, thanks Y/n” you freeze on the spot and just stare at him “How do you know my name?” You see his eyes go wide and he starts to stutter “Your name badge” you begin to awkwardly laugh and walk away before you start to get more creeped out.

You’re not even wearing a name badge.

#captain john price x reader #price x reader #simon ghost riley x reader #simon riley x reader #john soap mactavish x reader #soap x reader #gaz x reader #ghost x reader #kyle gaz garrick x reader

[mangogobibiboo]

Hoodie Heaven w/ Isagi

Isagi Yoichi x Reader // Warnings: Foul Language, slightly suggestive // Word Count: 900+

"Would it be all right if I borrowed your sweater? It smells like you."

The tone of the FaceTime chime rings through the room. You hadn’t really noticed how quiet the room had been until the call rung from Isagi’s tablet.

“WHERE THE HELL IS YOUR LUKEWARM ASS ISAGI!” Rin’s lovely voice rang through the room. It had cut through the tension soliciting a small giggle from you as you turned back to the open luggage in front of you.

Isagi let out a dry chuckle and rubbed the back of his neck. “Why do call me just to yell Rin, we’re not even supposed to be at the airport for another three hours”

“Check your fucking phone, the flight got moved up. Get here now! The flight leaves in an hour!” The call suddenly cuts off. ‘Rin is as civil as ever’ you think as you fumble with the same hoodie you’ve been fiddling with for the past 20 minutes.

“Shit, I have to leave now” Isagi starts rushing around the bedroom grabbing things and tossing them into the luggage. He was leaving. This time it was to Paris for a tournament or something. Last time it was to Germany and the time before Brazil. This was the off season and it still seemed like he was never home. You loved him you did and you were proud of him, you really were but at some point all his games meant more time away.

The last time he left was just two months ago, he had only gotten back last week. Now he was leaving, again.

“What is this trip for again Yoi?”

“It’s a charity tournament baby! The kids from the foundation are gonna get to do a training camp with former bluelock players. It’s going to be so cute!” He places a quick kiss on your neck as he sneaks behind you to toss another pair of pants into the bag.

It tickles. He had just shaved yesterday but you could already feel the stubble starting to grow back. You were going to miss his kisses. Your clutch tightened on the hoodie a little. You pulled it closer.

“Rin’s manager really thought that he would be a good mix with kids” you mumble and turn back to him and giggle again. He was still buzzing around the room making sure he had everything not really listening to what you said. How dare that damn airline, you were never going to book with them again, how could they rob you of your precious time with your boyfriend. The 3 hours had just turned into a hectic 40 minutes.

“Okay! I think that’s everything…oh can you toss that hoodie in too baby it supposed to be really cold around this time in France.” You give him the hoodie in your hand. He zipped up his bag and made his way to you. Now finally having a second to breathe before leaving for the airport. He placed his hand on your waist, one making its way to your chin and guiding your face up to him.

“What’s with the face?” He leaned in for a peck, it was slow and warm. You pulled away from the kiss and buried your face in his chest. You hug him tight. “Geez what has gotten into you” he chuckled, hugging you back, kissing the top of your forehead.

He smells so good. It was the perfect mixture of your vanilla body wash with a hint of his musky calonge.

Oh! An idea struck your head. That what you needed

“Yoichi! Take off your hoodie!” you pull back for him and start tugging his top up.

His eyes went wide for a second but abided. “W- Now? You want to do that now. I mean I guess I do have a half hour left. But we should be quick.” He went for his belt next but you hastily stopped him. You laughed and shook your head partly for how funny it was to see Isagi so eager he was stumbling over himself and also out of embarrassment for the misunderstanding.

“No you Perv!” You smack his chest. “it’s just that- I miss you so much when you leave Yoi. I just wanted to have the hoodie you're wearing now. So, would it be all right if I borrowed your sweater?…it smells like you.”

This time Isagi looks away, embarrassed. “Well you should have started with that. Of course you can have it, baby. Is that why you looked so down?” You nod your head “I promise this is the last event and I am all yours for the rest of the off season and I promise I will call you every night okay?”

You both thread your pinky fingers together. Isagi seals the promise with a kiss on your interlocked fingers first and then your lips as he cups your jaw.

DING!

It was his phone. “Damn it’s probably Rin, I have to go. Can you answer that while I get a shirt?” You nod as he rushes to the walk-in closet.

ITOSHI RIN: If your not here in the next 20 minutes I will shove these tickets down your fucking throat.

You stifle another laugh “Yoichi hurry! If you're any more late I might never see you again” Isagi emerges with a confused face as you show him the text. “Remind me again why Rin is doing this”

“Bachira convinced him that if he could train his team to beat my team it would mean that he is the better striker” Isagi grabs the luggage’s walking out as you follow.

“Those poor kids” you grab the keys from the counter.

“Kids!? No honey, wait till he finds out that he is my co - coach. I don’t know who gonna get it worse me or Bachria?”

A/N: This was so cute to write. Isagi is just so perfectly boyfriend coded. Also reader kind of completely useless while packing in this story sorryyyy, like girl he is in a rush 😭

#blue lock headcanons #blue lock drabbles #blue lock #bluelock headcanons #bluelock x reader #bluelock #isagi x reader #isagi smau #isagi yoichi #bllk isagi #blue lock isagi #isagi x you #isagi smut #isagi fluff #isagi x y/n #isagi headcanons #isagi drabbles #itoshi rin

[therwriter]

The way Arknights pulls from real world history is fascinating, especially the way it mixes and matches different parts of history, and historical geopolitics, to create such a fascinating, rich world that utilises our understanding of the real world to add depth and realism to its themes while still being a science-fantasy setting with magic, gods and eldritch horrors

The way Arknights pulls from real world history is also infuriating, because I feel like I need in-depth knowledge of the entire history of the globe over the last 200 years to really get into what they're putting down here.

The founding of the US and war of independence is within living memory, but it is also the cold war nuclear/space arms race. WWI is on the horizon. The imperial conquest of much of the globe has not yet started in earnest but is coming soon. France no longer exists and Iberia is essentially post-apocalyptic.

I think it draws most heavily from the 19th century, specifically the late 19th century, but it also draws on a lot of other time periods and situations too. It's obviously deliberate since every location is named and patterned after real world nations, meant to be like our world but not quite. Feels like there's a lot that could be talked about with the geopolitics of Arknights, but I don't know enough to get into it right now.

The one that bugs me the most is France. Why was it destroyed? What was the war of the four emperors? I'm sure HG is cooking something but I don't know enough continental European history to figure it out!!

Very funny that fantasy Australia is a mining company in a trenchcoat with a population predominantly made up of an invasive species though. Real subtle HG.

#arknights #Me when the setting has a rich real world inspiration: Yes #Me when I have to read up on all of that inspiration to discuss it: Wth #this sucks

[newtonsheffield]

The first chapter of Head on the Pillow was the perfect way to start that story off! And now I just want more. Is there any way we could get a snippet of something like when Ant gets out of the hospital and Kate is suddenly pushing photogs away from her new companion? Cos I feel like she’d bust someone’s camera lens the second they get to her close to her man.

I think Kate definitely feels protective of Anthony at first. He nearly just died for one. And sure, her therapist is probably thrilled because it’s given them a fresh new stress dream to wade through but it also means that she nearly lost the person she wants to spend the rest of her life with. And that doesn’t feel great.

“We don’t have to do this.”

Anthony huffed as they waited out the front of the hospital for the car to be pulled round, “It was specifically requested. I was given this outfit.”

Kate rolled her eyes, “Well right now I don’t care what the palace wants.”

It had been such an understated announcement at first. The palace describing Anthony as her Protection Agent and Companion in their official statement about his recovery and it had spiraled from there. Just as they’d known it would. The palace’s more official statement about their relationship printed and reprinted with every photo of her that had ever been taken, Anthony in the front, trying to shield her. And now there were hundreds of people waiting for them outside. Waiting to catch their first glimpse of the first official royal couple since her parents had walked out with her between them, holding both their hands.

“You do care. We have to leave through the front door. It’s what Royals do when they leave hospital according to your team.” Anthony sighed, trying to smile and Kate squeezed his hand while she ran her fingers through his hair and under the dark shadows under his eyes.

“I care about you. If this is too much we’ll sneak out the back. I don’t care. My parents won’t either. I’ll tell them it was gusty and I wasn’t wearing underwear.”

Anthony’s eyes narrowed as though she’d caught his attention. “Are you?”

“Wouldn’t you like to know.”

“Car out front, your highness.” Ronald said from his respectful distance away. “Exiting?”

Anthony nodded,taking a deep breath and gripping her hand tightly, his other arm in a sling. “Exiting.”

Th crows roared as Ronald pushed the doors open and Kate squared her shoulders waving with her free hand as the cameras flashed.

“Kate! Anthony!”

“Anthony! How’d you pull it off?”

“Kate! Any cold feet?!”

“Is it true you’re engaged?!”

“Is it true you married secretly in france last year?!”

Kept kept them moving forward towards the car and Anthony fingers gripped hers in panic as the photographers tried to bustle forward against the security.

She could see the panic in his eyes, not used to being on this side of the attention, people no longer letting their gaze pass through him and she cleared her throat.

“Boys, can you do me a favour?”

“What’s in it for us?!” A photographer called out and Kate laughed playing along.

“I’ll answer all of your questions in a press conference tomorrow. Every sordid detail. I’ll even do an interview for the television.” She could feel the anticipation in them, rising by the second, “But you need to leave Anthony alone while he recovers. I’ve put him through enough and I don’t need you boys scaring him off.”

They stopped pushing, staying in place, the flashes lessening.

“When’s this conference?”

“The palace will be in touch.”

The car door opened and Kate nudged Anthony inside before she followed him, his shoulders relaxing as he squeezed her hand again.

“That was very neatly done.”

Kate shrugged. “Well as attractive as I found you bodying Ken out of the way for me, I can’t do the same thing for you. I have to give a little to get a little.”

“You hate TV interviews.”

Kate shrugged, “I’ll pick someone good. Someone fun.”

“Thank you.” His voice was tiny, as the people flew by outside the window. “I’ll get better at this. I’ll get better and then I can support-”

“You’re perfect.” She leaned over to kiss his temple. “Just like this. I don’t want you to get better at that. That’s the last thing I want.”

“The palace might disagree.”

“I don’t care what the palace wants.”

#head on the pillow au #bodyguard au #kathony #anthony x kate #kate sharma #kate sheffield #anthony bridgerton #molly’s asks and answers

[httpsuniverse]

LIPS OF AN ANGEL | MM19

PAIRING: mason mount x wolff!reader ; a bit of george russell x wolff!reader

DETAILS & WARNINGS: profanities, mentions cheating/infidelity, mason's anger is totally understandable, y/n's a bit of a bitch(? idk towards the end tho), rushed ending bc i really wanted to end this hahahah, also not proofread and tons of dialogues ahhahah

WC: 4k

A/N: i apologize for uploading this soo late 😭 i had writers block for a long while :< anyway, enjoy reading!

TAGGED: @i83andrew @pleasantducktimetravel

this work is purely fictional. names, characters, places and incidents either are products of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously. © newuniverse, 2023. do not steal, repost in other platforms, translate and/or claim this work as your own.

now, four months have passed since you’ve broken up with mason (or at least that was what your letter stated). in those months, mason finds himself longing for you. the man often finds himself up most nights, sleeping so late and waking up so early to head to training and other prior schedules he has every day.

mason would not deny it; that if someone were to ask if he had tried contacting you, your dad and even your stepmum. the couple would always say that they don’t know your whereabouts, but deep inside, he knows they know and knowing you, you were probably the one who asked them not to tell him. the first month was the hardest, he tried calling you every night and every chance he got while on his schedule. he was waiting for your voicemail greeting to play just to hear your voice and after that, he’d record what he wanted to say. a mixture of i love you’s, i miss you’s and please come back. 

it wasn’t easy with you as well. you missed mason and you missed the days where it was just the two of you in your own little world. if you could only go back in time, you’d never leave the house during the night of your fight and maybe this never would’ve happened. you missed seeing mason on the other side of the bed; you weren’t a morning person but whenever there’s a chance that you wake up before him, you’d watch him sleep and listen to his gentle snores while you lightly trace his beard with the tip of your finger. you missed snuggling to him during cold mornings, you missed the lazy make-outs because he couldn’t get his hands off of you, you missed him whispering sweet nothings in your ear after you wake up. you missed mornings with mason, too bad you can no longer relive those moments.

though you can’t help that every time you wake up, you have that thought that you could go back to london, you could return his calls, you could return back to mason and restart your relationship. but every time you do think of doing those things, you’re reminded of what you did. all those lies you’ve told him, and those days where you were away and sleeping with another man. 

going back to the man you’ve hurt seems such a foolish thing to do, and you know the people around mason wouldn’t allow such a thing. though you may think that mason would have the same thinking as the others, he sometimes does not. he wanted to risk it all again with you, he wanted to try and fix it with you. all he wanted is you and you alone.

going back to mason is something that you want to do but wouldn’t do. and on the fourth month, 5 day mark, mason had revealed his month long relationship with a model, lia mendes.

honey, why you calling me so late?

it’s kinda hard to talk right now. 

honey, why you crying, is everything okay?

i gotta whisper cause i can’t be too loud.

you stood in your living room filled with moving boxes, susie and toto were outside while jack was napping inside your bedroom. all you could do was sigh. it felt so weird moving into a new apartment–let alone moving to the southeast corner of france. monaco was a lovely place to live in, knowing that your father lives here (though he travels most of the time), the fact that you live nearby brings you some sort of relief, safety and comfort. though, as many people have said, you disappeared off the face of the earth for a few months, you’ve lived your life quietly with your mum for a while as you wait for the situation with mason to die down.

you were in a rush when you left london the night you told mason you were just going to the store. you left without even taking a second look, not even an ounce of thought. sure, it was a wrong move—a dumb decision as well, but you wanted to run away from all the mistakes you’ve made. you wanted to escape. leave everything you have to the place you once loved—now a place you dread the most. it was not the easiest decision either, but it was the only solution that you could think of.

the night you left mason, you didn’t go to the store. instead, you met george. again, a clandestine meeting. you messaged george when you were a few blocks away from his place, which is why you met a furious brit.

“have you lost your mind, kid?” he says, god you hated that nickname. it was the nickname that toto knew george gave you and became the hint that you and the driver are close. “she could’ve caught me! she could’ve seen your bloody message! why did you want to see me—”

“i told him, george. he–he probably saw the letter by now because i left a few hours ago.”

the driver’s eyes widened, definitely not the sentence he was not expecting to hear from you. suddenly, he didn’t know what to do or say. george tried to pull you in his arms, but you were quick to push him away. “this… george! this is exactly why we need to stop what’s between us!” you said, “i can’t believe i’m saying this but i regret everything that happened between us. i regret taking advantage of mason and carmen. i hate how i know that dad will be so disappointed in me. so please, let’s stop this… we can’t keep hurting and breaking the trusts of the people around us.” 

your voice cracks by the end of the last sentence, you could feel george staring at you but you kept your gaze on your feet. no strength to look at his eyes because you know that this man would do anything just to make you stay. 

“but baby—”

from calling you kid to baby—you hated it. you felt disgusted. you needed to end it.

“no, george. no buts.” you cut off, “i have to go. i… i wish you all the best.”

you walk back to your car, locking the doors in case george runs after you. again, without looking back, you drive away. leaving the confused brit in the empty street.

and even though you ended things with george that night, he hadn’t stopped calling and texting you—afraid that you might say anything about your relationship to others, even with friends and family. all he ever cared about was his reputation, he was scared. after all, he was doing great with mercedes the past season and a scandal with his boss’ daughter would put him through hell. 

now, you were left alone in this apartment overlooking the beauty of monaco. you sat on your balcony with a glass of wine sitting on the table, feeling the breeze of the mediterranean sea. oh you missed mason. you haven’t heard anything from him since you two broke up. 

and maybe it was the number of wine in your system that you ended up dialing his number, the one you’ve deleted yet can’t seem to forget as you knew it by heart. no matter how hard you try to forget about it. it kept on ringing and ringing, and you tried to re-dial once it ended due to the exceeding minute. 

on the fifth try, you finally heard his voice. 

“hello?”

you know that feeling when you’ve spoken to your high school crush for the very first time, your heart drops and your stomach is filled with butterflies to the point where you don’t know what to say? that is exactly what you felt when you heard mason’s voice after months.

“hello?” he repeats, “is this a prank call? ‘cause this is the fifth time you called and i might need to block your number–”

“masey.”

you heard sounds of bed rustling followed by a door closing, you assumed that he was already in bed and was fast asleep. after all, it was already midnight. “y/n?” and that’s when the tears started to roll in, god how you missed that voice. “are you crying? is everything alright?” his voice was quiet.

“y-yeah, just…” you sniffed, “just missing you and i think it has something to do with this stupid wine.”

“sorry, i’ve got to whisper. m-my girlfriend’s asleep,”

“oh.” you wiped your tears, you only found out that mason was dating someone now. “i’m sorry, i should’ve known. god, i’ll hang up–”

“no!”

well, my girl’s in the next room

sometimes i wish she was you

i guess we never really moved on

it’s really good to hear your voice saying my name

it sounds so sweet

“she’s in the other room anyway, we can continue talking.” he continued, “h-how have you been? i’ve seen photos of jack on susie’s instagram, may have had a glimpse of you spending time with them in her stories. have you gone karting with jack recently?”

you chuckle, chugging the remaining wine on your glass before responding. “i-i stayed with them for a month, i stayed with my mum as well, after our… well, you know. i’ve accompanied jack while dad and susie are busy. you know, the season has already started and susie is busy with the f1 academy. i was vacant for a month, but i’ve started working again–i’m talking too much, you should really hang up, mason.”

“you know, it’s really good to hear your voice saying my name, y/n.” mason said, “it-it really sounds so sweet.”

“we should really stop, mason.”

you heard him scoff on the other end of the line, “it’s so funny that you’re the one saying that, i’m not the one who called in the first place, y/n.”

“i know, and i only found out that you were dating someone tonight. y-you should be with her, you shouldn’t be talking to your ex who… who cheated on you tonight. she deserves better.”

“i guess we never really moved on, y/n.” he replied, “i–”

“goodbye, mason. good night.”

coming from the lips of an angel

hearing those words, it makes me weak

and i never wanna say goodbye

but, girl, you make it hard to be faithful

with the lips of an angel

mason couldn’t sleep that night and had trouble waking up, which was the reason why lia, so early in the morning, was mad as her boyfriend was sleeping so deep and no matter how hard she tried to wake him up, she just couldn’t. lia was running late for a schedule that mason had promised to come with her as their break for the season had begun. 

“masey, i’m running super late. my manager is about to burst, can’t you please move much faster?” she said, in a mixture of annoyed and calm voice. “didn’t we go to bed at the same time last night? why do you look like you haven’t at all?”

“because i haven’t slept,” he answered directly.

“why?”

“just… nothing. let’s go.”

the couple exited mason’s house, lia practically sprinted to mason’s car and sat on the front seat. masey, that was the nickname most people call him but now, he only wanted to hear your voice call him that and nobody else. when you say his name, it sounded like it came from the lips of an angel. it made him weak most of the time. 

lia had arrived a half an hour late, her manager was already glaring at mason and immediately separated the couple. while lia was doing her photoshoot, leaving mason alone, he realised that he never wanted to break up with you, even if you admitted what had happened between you and george, or maybe he was just thinking about it as you’ve spoken last night. maybe he just missed you. he did miss you. 

what’s fucked up is that he thought he finally moved on from you, that he was ready to commit to a new relationship. he knew that when he and lia were testing the waters, a month before they officially dated. he has told himself several times that he was over you, yet here he is. reminiscing all the memories you’ve shared the past years you two were together after that phone call. you were making it hard for him to be faithful.

as he was waiting, mason was on his phone when he received a notification of an invite to attend another f1 race with red bull. this time, it was in barcelona. he remembered the last time you and he went to monaco, a weekend to remember indeed. 

“we’re going to be separated for almost the whole day, baby” you laugh, putting on your dress as mason shoves his phone into his pocket. “it’s going to be so weird because you’ll be at the red bull garage, and i’ll be at mercedes!”

“hey, i can still go there, you know? plus we’ll see each other around the paddock.” he replied, walking behind you and wrapped his arms around your waist. “besides, your dad loooves me. i’m sure he’ll understand that this is for work and publicity.”

you smiled, zipping your dress up and turned to face him. mason pursed his lips, signifying that he was asking for a kiss. you giggled, and eventually leaned in to connect your lips together. when you pulled away, you put your hand on his face and ran the pads of your thumb on his beard–the one you loved doing after you two kissed every time.

“you, sir… look so handsome with your outfit.” you compliment, he was wearing his chequered rhude shirt over some white shirt. you leaned in again for another kiss, deepening it–only pulling away when you heard your phone ring. “okay, before things escalate, i have to go. dad’s calling.”

“your dad’s such a cockblocker.” he teased, earning a slap on the arm from you. “i’m just kidding! i’ll see you when i see you at the paddock.”

mason remembered how he stole a kiss every time you crossed paths at the paddock or at the pit lane during his walk. a lot of people saw and took pictures and videos of it, posting it on social media. that video was trending in the world of f1 and football for a few days before dying down. he remembered seeing tweets and posts on instagram, saying they were jealous of your relationship. he remembered the two of you having dinner at toto and susie’s place, how he was teased by you and jack (toto eventually joined) throughout dinner as he went as red bull’s guest and not mercedes. he remembered lying with you on the deck of a rented yacht, under the sun, enjoying the monte-carlo air.

on the other side of europe, you are woken up by the sound of your phone ringing. you were taking your afternoon siesta before returning back to your home office to continue working, and whoever was calling you in the middle of your nap, may they stub their toe on some furniture. tired, you reached out for your phone and answered the call without looking at the screen.

“hello?” you groggily said, “whoever you are, you’ve interrupted my siesta and i may hate you for that.”

“well, hello to you, my daughter.” your father’s voice rang through your ears. “and i’m sorry if i interrupted your nap, but would you be so kind and open your front door please?”

“what?”

“open the door, i’ve been out here for almost fifteen minutes.”

and off you went to your front door, toto was greeted by a grumpy daughter whose eyebrows were furrowed. you looked at your father, “what are you doing here, dad?”

“no ‘hallo, vater’? no ‘how are you doing, dad?’. none?” he joked, entering your place as you made way for him and closed the door. “okay, i will be quick. come with us to barcelona this weekend.”

your eyes widened, “what? i have work, i can’t just leave.”

“your brother told me that you have a flexible work schedule, that you’re allowed to bring your work everywhere you go.” your dad replied.

“theodore wolff, that little bitch.” you cursed under your breath, you couldn’t help but facepalm with what your brother just did. “dad–”

“i know that tone, y/n wolff.” toto stopped you from continuing your sentence, “come on, it’ll be just like the old days! except your brother isn’t here because his finals week aligned with the weekend in barcelona.”

you bit your lip, making a decision as your father can be impatient. if you go to the race, the possibility of running to george is high–no matter how much effort you exert on avoiding the man, you simply can’t as he is, of course, a driver for mercedes. but, it’ll be good for you as well! you haven’t gone to spain for years, a change of environment and working outside of your home office may be good for you as well. you work only on weekdays, and you’ll be free for the rest of the weekend so you wouldn’t think of work that much in case.

“okay fine, i’ll go with you. when’s the flight?” 

“tonight.”

“TONIGHT?! dad, a little heads up would’ve been nice!”

“i’m sorry, pack your bags and we’ll pick you up by 8.” toto said, planting a kiss on your head. “i’ll go now, we’ll see you later!”

—

on saturday morning, arriving at the paddock with your father, a lot of people approached you by the entrance. some asked for pictures, some for autographs (which you didn’t quite understand), and some were nice enough to greet you. to say that you’re nervous is an understatement. you were returning to the paddock, you’re about to see george, his fiancée–the people you've been avoiding for months were in barcelona with you. you opted to stay in your hotel since your arrival in spain, finishing all the work you have left before proceeding with your weekend. as you walk to the paddock with toto, you could feel your palm sweat and your stomach turn the more you get closer to mercedes’ garage. 

“word is, footballers are in red bull’s garage.” you overheard one of the mechanics upon entering the garage. the word football made you even more nervous than you already were.

“oh come on, mate. i think i’ve seen a few yesterday! that’s old news!”

“i haven’t seen any yesterday but so far, i’ve seen james, felix, chilwell–” please don’t tell me mason is here. “–and mount. just last year they were in monaco, weren’t they?”

the other mechanic nodded his head. mason is here. breathing the same air as you, probably a few metres away from you even. i knew this was a bad idea. you thought to yourself.

“you look like you saw a ghost.” said your father after speaking to the engineers.

you shook your head, “well, i think i’m about to see one today.” you joked, “i-uh, i’ll go out to find something to drink.”

toto raised an eyebrow, a bit unsure of your change of behaviour but you gave him a smile and reassured that you’ll be back. “alright, just…be back before quali, alright?”

you nodded your head and exited the garage. walking around the paddock like you were a normal guest, someone who just wants to enjoy the weekend. but it’s hard when people recognize you as toto wolff’s daughter, and as much as you try to stay away from the crowd, people still approached you. little did you know, someone has spotted you.

“oi, mason!” ben called his teammate, walking towards the man who’re talking with the other players. “guess who i saw walking around the paddock?”

“who?”

ben took a step closer to the younger, whispering your name. mason felt his heart skip a beat, realising the same thing you’ve thought about just a few minutes ago: you were here, breathing the same air as him.

it's funny that you're calling me tonight

and, yes, i've dreamt of you too

and does he know you're talking to me?

will it start a fight?

no, i don't think she has a clue.

needless to say, you were good at hiding. mason had presented the pirelli pole position award to max, he wanted to know if you were there to see him next to the driver. but as he scanned the sea of crowd, you were nowhere to be found. after the qualifying, you returned back to your hotel–reasoning that you were exhausted and had a headache. as soon as you were back, you changed clothes and plopped yourself on the bed. but it wasn’t so soon when your phone started ringing, a number you once called.

“hello?”

“a little birdie told me that you were in the paddock today.”

you sighed, closing your eyes but held the phone close to your earshot. “was it ben?”

“you know it. he’s always liked you–in a platonic way, i mean.”

silence followed right after he had mentioned ben, you were exhausted to even reply. 

“y/n–”

“it’s so funny that you’re calling me tonight, mason.” you said, “i assumed the night i called you, you would’ve blocked my number.”

“you know i would never do that. we’ve been together for a long time, y/n.”

“i must be living in your head, mason.”

mason scoffed on the other end of the line, “well, i wasn’t thinking of you until the night you called.” he replied, “and yes, i’ve dreamt of you too.”

you jolted up from the bed when you heard a knock on the door, with the phone on the other hand you made your way to the door. you didn’t even bother looking through the peephole to see who was knocking on your door late in the night, you just assumed it was your dad. promptly, you opened the door–lo and behold, mason mount was standing in front of you. unable to speak, you still held your phone by your ear and stared at him, him and his stupid smile. mason was the one who ended the call and shoved his phone into his pocket.

“hi,” he said, “it’s been a few months, y/n.”

“how did you–what are you–i’m so confused right now.” you expressed, about to shut the door but mason was quick enough to stop you. “what do you want, mason?”

“does he know you’re talking to me? will it start a fight?” he asked, completely ignoring your question and welcomed himself inside your room, shutting the door close. “george. does george know?”

“i called it off with him the night i left a letter for you, mason. i went to his place and i ended things with you both at the same time.”

mason scoffed, shaking his head in disbelief. “wow,” he exclaimed, “george had the in-person “break-up” and all i got is a stupid fucking letter?”

“mason–”

“that is bullshit, y/n. pure bullshit.” mason barked, “all this time, george got the closure that i should’ve had. me–y/n, i was the one you dated for a long time and all i fucking got is a lousy letter about the truth of your affair with george?”

“i was supposed to, mason!” you yell back, “i was supposed to tell you, but the timing just wasn’t right.”

“and you thought lying straight to my face when i asked you about it, was okay?” you were about to answer, but mason was already rushing to the door. when he was about to exit, he said: “i went here thinking i could finally get the closure i needed, but fuck, was i wrong about this.”

you scoff, “that’s on you, then. you come running to the girl who cheated on you.” you said, “does lia know that you’re still hung up on your past? because i don’t think she has a clue.”

ynwolff

liked by susie_wolff, mercedesamgf1, lewishamilton and others

ynwolff so many familiar faces here in spain 🇪🇸 here’s a little dump of my weekend here 🤓

view all 739 comments

yourbffsig oh i know who those familiar faces were 😉

ynwolff 😂 stop

yourbffsig we’re going to a party tonight after what happened, we need to get wasted!!

ynwolff as long as i make it back home on time and alive, let’s gooo

mercedesamgf1 glad to have you back in the garage, y/n! 🐺

ynwolff glad to see the team secure a double podium, thank you for having me! 🖤

mercedesamgf1 a great weekend indeed!

yourmomsig missing you so much, sweetheart! hope you enjoyed x

ynwolff miss you too mum ❤️

theowolff what about me 😓

ynwolff miss you too dumbass 🙄 you’re the reason why i went so you should’ve been with me, i could’ve avoided an unexpected circumstance hahahah

theowolff if only school let me 💀 but hey, at least you ‘enjoyed’

ynwolff i’m blocking you!!

user1 OMG SHES IN THE PADDOCK WHAT IF SHE SAW OR TALKED TI MASE IM DELULU (ALSO TOTO ON THE LAST SLIDE? LMAO)

user2 stop with these assumptions I BEG YALL

user3 people should learn how to stfu im being fr rn

user4 that’s toto’s reaction when he read your comment

user2 also the cryptic messages HELLO ?? i dont think they saw each other or if they did, it probably didn’t go so well

user3 you’re onto something babes 👀

masonmount

liked by declanrice, benchilwell, redbullracing and others

masonmount thank you redbullracing and jodieporter8 for everything!

view all 2,495 comments

liamendes meu belo homem 😩🫶 i love you!

— ❤️ by masonmount

redbullracing THANK YOU!! 🫶

user5 when i tell yall this man is so FINE 🤌🏻

user6 this man is scrump-DILLY-tious

user7 yall CALM DOWN

user8 mason did something happen between u and y/n bc her posts have some sort of cryptic hints and i kinda wanna know whats going on tnx (jk hahaha love u both)

user9 HELPPP me too 😓 like what does her bff mean when she said “whag happened” and y/n saying “unexpected circumstance” LIKE GIVE ME SOMETHING??? A TEA PERHAPS???

user10 currently dying to know what the fucj happened in barcelona

#mason mount x reader #mason mount imagine #mason mount angst #football instagram au #football x reader #football imagine #football angst #football x you #football x y/n

[peakyswritings]

Heart, Body and Soul || Tommy Shelby x OC

PART I

Summary: When the conflict with a powerful family threatens to bring down the Shelby Clan, Tommy takes a trip to Italy. In order to stop the disaster, two families must become one: marriage seems to be the only way to seal an alliance and bring peace. It’s Nina Ferrante, fierce and rebellious, the one who slowly makes her way into his heart, with steps so light he doesn’t even realise it. But things are not as easy as they may seem: one, Tommy is expected to marry her cousin, and two - Nina has no intention of getting married.

Warnings: mentions of arranged marriage, slow-burn, small age-gap (Tommy’s 30, Nina is in her early 20s), English is not my first language.

A/N: here’s the first chapter of my new series. This is set somewhere between season 1 and 2. At the end, you’ll find the translation of a couple of Italian expressions. Feedback is always appreciated🤍

SERIES MASTERLIST

SERIES MOODBOARD

Gif credit

Dividers credit

Tommy gazed out the window of the car, watching the landscape pass before his eyes. The small Sicilian village was so different from Birmingham. It was rural, peaceful, and the air was clean, he could fill his lungs without smelling the smoke and the shit. Beyond the uphill road, he could even hear the sound of the sea. Had he been in a different situation, he would’ve enjoyed that sound, along with the feeling of the sunlight on his face.

But he had to stay focused. Because he was alone, and the men in the car with him were speaking words he couldn’t understand. They could’ve easily taken him to an empty field and put a bullet in his head, and no one would’ve known. His hand went to the gun inside his coat, taking in the feeling of security brought by the contact of the cold metal against his skin.

Vincenzo Ferrante said something to the driver, then his eyes met Tommy’s through the rearview mirror. There was a strange glimpse in them, something that vaguely resembled amusement. He knew he had the upper hand.

A familiar tingling sensation crawled over the back of Tommy’s neck. It was the way of his body to tell him that danger was near, had started to get it in France, and it hadn’t left him since. His fingers forcefully pressed against the grip of the gun as his hold tightened for a few seconds. Then, slowly, he released it, his hand coming to rest on his lap. He took a deep breath, pulling himself together. He had a deal with those people, and it would go through.

One week earlier

Tommy walked into the betting shop, his steps resonating over the wooden floor as he strode among the desks in the empty room. Empty, except for his aunt, who was waiting for him behind the main table.

“Here’s the information I found.” He said, tossing a folder on the wooden surface. Polly furrowed her eyebrows, grabbing it so that she could examine its content. It was full of photographs, letters and documents. God knew how Tommy had managed to get his hands on them.

“Go on.” She mumbled.

“Antonio Ferrante has two brothers, Vincenzo and Mario. They came to England when they were children, and they were raised here. Twenty-five years ago, Vincenzo and Mario went back to Sicily to start their business, both legal and illegal, while Antonio stayed here to carry on their legal race tracking operation. Of course, his organisation also has two sides. Vincenzo moves between Italy and England to help him with the other side. He’s here now. He’s been helping him with the attacks.”

Three attacks. Three attacks in one week. Tommy had never seen something like that. Those Italians were sly and quick, and extremely organised. They started by blowing up two of the pubs under the Peaky Blinders’ protection, then they proceeded to find one of their warehouses, and they blew it up as well. It was a matter of time before they came for the Shelbys.

Polly sighed, putting the papers back into the folder. Just when everything seemed to be going in the right direction, another bomb was dropped upon them. Quite literally.

Tommy rubbed his eyes, taking his time before continuing. “Ferrante was cooperating with Kimber. Thanks to this alliance, the family had secured a place at the top of the betting business. By killing Billy Kimber…”

“We stepped on their toes.” Polly finished his sentence.

“And now they want revenge. Yesterday they took three of our men.” He sighed, leaning against the desk behind him. That was another thing he had to take care of. He had to write to their families, send his condolences, and open a fund for them so that they could manage to sustain themselves without their husbands, fathers and brothers to take the money home. It was unpleasant, but it had to be done.

“It’s the Italian Mafia we’re talking about.” Tommy spoke again. “They have an organisation of bigger dimensions. If Ferrante calls the rest of his relatives from Sicily, it’s over for us.”

“So what’s the plan?” She asked, taking a cigarette from the pocket of her apron before placing it between her lips.

“Antonio Ferrante only has sons,” He started to explain, taking a match to light his aunt’s cigarette. “But his brothers have daughters-”

“What the hell are you talking about?” Polly’s head shot in his direction, eyes wide with disbelief as she could already imagine what he was trying to say.

“I’m talking about marriage, Polly. I’m going to marry one of the girls.”

Tommy couldn’t even believe his words as he said them. Before Grace, marriage had never crossed his mind, and after she left for New York, he was quite sure he would never find another woman. But there he was, selling himself so that his family could survive.

Despite the initial shock, Polly quickly regained her composure. She took a long drag from her cigarette, pondering her nephew’s words. “Why would they accept your offer?”

“Because by joining our forces, we can take down Sabini.”

“Do you think they’ll go against their own?” She inquired, a hint of scepticism in her voice.

“The Italians are fighting among themselves, now. Ferrante is also at war with Sabini, and he can’t defeat him on his own. Once Sabini’s taken care of, we’ll grant the Ferrante family a good place at the top of the business, even better than the one they occupied with Kimber.”

As much as Tommy tried to sound confident, he couldn’t hide his agitation. He couldn’t estimate the odds, there were no chances, no percentages. Everything felt unpredictable and beyond his control. He turned to grab the bottle of whiskey from the desk and poured himself a glass under Polly’s stare. It felt like she could read into him, like she could see right into his brain and know each one of his thoughts. It had always been like that, since he was a kid. It bothered him, sometimes, but deep down it was a relief to know that there was someone who could understand him without needing him to speak.

He downed all the whiskey in his glass, relishing the burning sensation. It grounded him, in some way. “Today I’m meeting Antonio and Vincenzo Ferrante.” He said, placing the glass on the table with a thud. “I’ll make the terms for peace.”

“How did it go?”

Tommy heard Polly’s question before he could see her. As soon as he entered the kitchen, he was met with her expectant eyes, her gaze scanning his face, looking for an answer. She poured him a glass of whiskey as he removed his coat and placed it on a chair.

“They accepted.” He just said, grabbing the glass. Polly’s expression relaxed for a moment, and she breathed a sigh of relief, but that relief was swept away as she noticed how her nephew was avoiding her gaze.

She waited for him to continue, but her patience ran out quickly. “And?” She asked.

Tommy sat on a chair and took a sip of whiskey. “And I’m going to Sicily to meet my spouse.”

There was some kind of inflection in his voice, one that not even Polly was able to define. But there was also a small particular in what he had said, and it didn’t go unnoticed.

“You’re going to Sicily?” She inquired, raising her eyebrows.

“Yes.”

“Alone?” She emphasised, leaning with a hand on the table, not taking her eyes off of his face.

“Yes.” He repeated, keeping his eyes on the bottle in front of him, well aware of how dangerous and imprudent it sounded.

“Tommy, are you mad?” She yelled, yanking away the bottle so that he would look at her. He finally raised his eyes, and silence fell between them for a while as he tried to find the words.

“I need you here to take control of the business while I’m gone. You’re the only one who can do that.” He explained, standing up so that he could speak to her face to face. “And I can’t take John and Arthur with me, because there need to be Shelbys here in Small Heath.”

“You’re going to get yourself killed.” She spat.

Tommy placed his hands on her shoulders, the hint of a smile making its way on his face. “Think of it like this: if I don’t come back, all of this will be yours.” He pointed towards the door that opened on the betting shop. “You’ll make a good fortune.” He joked, trying to lighten the air.

However, his aunt didn’t seem amused. She just shook her head, a look of defeat in her eyes. “I could try and talk some sense into you, but you’ve already decided, haven’t you?”

Without answering, Tommy walked past her to take ahold his glass and drink the rest of his whiskey. He cleared his throat, gathering himself as best as he could. “Vincenzo Ferrante is going back to his family in three days. I’m going with him.”

Present day

The car drew to a halt. Beyond an iron gate stretched a large garden, which was divided in two halves by a gravel path that led up to two big houses. As the driver got out of the car to open the gates, Tommy couldn’t help but feel relieved. No empty field. No ditch waiting for him.

“I guess you’re hungry, Mr. Shelby. It’s been a long journey.” Vincenzo Ferrante suddenly spoke, taking him away from his thoughts. Before Tommy could answer, he continued. “Later we’re having lunch, and I’ll introduce you to the family. Communication won’t be a problem, me and Mario raised all of our children to speak both English and Italian, just like Antonio. For the sake of business.” He clarified.

Tommy just nodded, unsure about what to say. He half expected to be dead before even getting to the village, so communication had been the last of his thoughts.

Not caring much about his silence, Vincenzo pointed towards the house on the left. “That’s my house, and the other is my brother’s. You’ll be my guest. Since we’re suggesting you to marry my niece Agnese, we thought it would be improper for you to stay in the same house as her.”

Agnese. She was said to be the oldest, and the prettiest, and the most fitted to be a wife. However, they had assured him that if he were to find someone more to his liking, he would be free to choose, he just had to make the decision before starting to court her. They wanted things to be done the proper way.

Tommy leaned back in his seat, the need for a cigarette suddenly kicking in. “It’s understandable.”

The brief ride towards the houses was silent. In that short amount of time, Tommy tried to guess what the following weeks had in store for him, how his life would look like in a month, but truth was, he really couldn’t tell. He had no idea, and that was terrifying, even for someone like him. But he had to stay calm, focused. He couldn’t allow himself to let his guard down.

When he got out of the car, he had to keep himself from breathing a sigh of relief. He was finally able to stretch his legs after being seated for what felt like ages. He thanked the driver who handed him his suitcase, then proceeded to take a look around. The two houses - even though they were separated from each other - formed some sort of angle. In the shared garden a long table had been set up, and from the numbers of chairs Tommy could tell that a great number of relatives would be joining them for lunch.

“Papà!”

A female voice echoed in the garden, and a raven-haired girl ran down the stairs that led to the front door of Vincenzo’s house. In a matter of seconds she was in the garden, and she wrapped her arms around the man’s neck.

“Ciao, amore di papà.” Ferrante said, taking her face in his hands to leave a tender kiss on her forehead. “Come stai?”

She opened her mouth to say something, but was quickly distracted by Tommy’s presence. A glimpse of confusion flickered across her dark eyes, then something really close to realisation seemed to hit her.

Ferrante took a step back, so that Tommy and that girl could be in front of each other. “Nina, this is Tommy Shelby. Mr. Shelby, this is Nina, my daughter.”

Tommy watched has she furrowed her brows, hesitating for a couple of seconds before holding out her hand. Her eyes, that a few seconds before were warm and full of affection for her father, were now cold and wary. And there was something defiant in the way she refused to be the first to break eye contact. It was something that Tommy wasn’t used to, he had grown accustomed to people lowering their heads in his presence, not daring to even look at him. This girl clearly knew who he was, and yet she refused to be intimidated. It was quite admirable.

Soon, Tommy realised that he had probably let his hand linger in hers for a bit too long. He let it fall to his side, clearing his throat. “Pleasure.”

“Nina, why don’t you show our guest his room?” Ferrante suggested, placing a hand on his daughter’s shoulder. “So you make yourself comfortable before lunch, Mr. Shelby.”

She said something in Italian, and even though Tommy couldn’t understand a single word, from the tone of her voice and her disgruntled expression he could tell that she was displeased. Nevertheless, a reproachful “Nina” uttered by her father, accompanied by a stern look, seemed to do the trick.

She glanced at Tommy one more time, before turning around and starting to walk towards the house. “Come with me.” She said, without worrying about whether he was following her or not.

Tightening his hold on the suitcase, Tommy started to walk behind her. If Nina’s cousin was half as hostile as her, he was truly fucked.

“Ciao, amore di papà”: “hi, darling” (literally - “hi, dad’s love”)

“Come stai?”: “how are you?”

NEXT PART

Tagging @zablife , cause I remember you asking me to tag you when this was out🤍

#peaky blinders imagine #peaky blinder imagine #tommy shelby imagine #tommy shelby fic #tommy shelby x oc #heart body and soul

[milaisreading]

Can you do something for Hetalia Valentine's Day? The Axis and Allies are arguing with each other about being y/n's Valentine's date. While they are arguing Sealand goes to y/n's house with flowers on his hands and he is wearing a cute suit. When y/n opened the door Sealand asked y/n to be his Valentine date. Y/n found him so cute and she agreed. How would the Axis and Allies going to react after seeing this?

🌱🩷: Hii! Thank u for the request and happy Valentine's Day! Hope u like this! I had a lot of fun while writing!

Warning: Reader uses she/her. Requests are open!

🌍Hetalia belongs to Hidekaz Himaruya🌏

"Achoo!" (Y/n) let out a loud sneeze, causing Finland and Denmark to look at her in surprise.

"Are you alright?" Finland wondered as he handed her a tissue.

"Did you get sick or something?" Denmark chimed in as he checked her temperature, which was normal as he could conclude.

"I am fine. I just think someone is gossiping about me, you know." She joked as the two looked at her in confusion.

"Weird."

"Yeah. Who would gossip about you?"

The country shrugged her shoulders, unsure what to answer them back.

'I just hope it's not Belarus scheming something! I already said I have no interest in Russia!' (Y/n) thought in fear, but tried to brush that image out of her head.

"I dunno. By the way, I am off to meet up with Belgium and her brothers. Have fun staying at home."

"Stay safe!"

"Call us if you need anything!"

Before she could answer back, there was a knock on the door and (Y/n) went to open it.

"Yes? Huh?" She stopped while looking down at a bouquet with red roses while Sealand was grinning up at her.

"Happy Valentine's Day! Please be my Valentine!"

"Huh... Sealand..." She muttered in confusion as the boy stared at her.

Meanwhile, the country was partially right with her assumptions. Eight countries were talking about (Y/n), just not in the way she expected it to be.

"You?! What makes you think you are compatible for (Y/n)?!" America yelled, pointing at Russia. The two countries were never on good terms ever since the Cold War started, now with Valentine's Day being right around the corner, and both going after the same country things got much more tense.

"And I don't see what makes you think we are not. (C/n) and I do share some history with each other. Meanwhile, you are just a little kid compared to me. Why would she want you?" Russia laughed as America got into his face.

"And you creep her out! Weren't you the reason she isolated herself to begin with?! Also, my present is way better!"

Meanwhile, Germany was glaring at Italy, who was fawning over the present he had prepared for (Y/n), which was a painting he painted for her.

"Ve~ I am sure mia bella will love this! I can't wait for her saying yes to being my Valentine-"

"Hold up, Italy! Who said she will agree to be you Valentine! I have a gift for her as well." Germany interrupted the Italian, who frowned at his words.

"Because my present is just better. And besides, I am the one who is more of a passionate person than you are." Italy giggled as he saw Germany's face turn red in anger.

"That means nothing! My gift is just as good!"

"I have to disappoint you on the last part, mon ami Italy." France laughed as he held England back from chocking him.

"After all, I am the country of romance and love. She will definitely pick me." France boasted as the German and Italian glared at the man.

"You?! You pervert have absolutely no chance! Didn't you scare (Y/n) the last time you saw each other!"

"That was months ago!" France said with a red face.

"And besides, she would rather have a gentleman, like me."

The four started arguing among each other as Japan and China looked at them with unamused expressions.

"They are so loud, aiyah! Stupid Westerners." China exclaimed as he covered up his ears. Japan silently nodded his head.

"And this whole argument is useless as well. (Y/n) will definitely pick me. I always cook her good meals."

Now this was something Japan wouldn't stay silent on as he sent the older nation a glare.

"You? Aren't you too old for this? Besides, (Y/n) likes me more than you. We have a lot of common interests as well."

"You?! Don't make laugh, Japan! You can barely look her in the eyes, let alone confess anything! I will be her Valentine!"

"Dream on." The two Asian countries were about to start arguing as well, but got interrupted by Sealand walking into the living room, looking at all of them in confusion.

"Why are you old people arguing now?" The countries tensed up and looked back at the micronation, who was holding a box with some sweets inside.

"Nothing a kid like you should know about." Russia smiled, causing Sealand to shiver in fright.

"Stop scaring him. He is still a kid." Germany warned as Italy hid behind him. Sealand pouted at that when England spoke up.

"What did you need? You usually only come to me when you need something."

The micronation looked back at the former empire as the rest looked between them.

"Nothing much. Just wanted to say that France's idea on how to woo someone over worked. I just had to act cute, and got a Valentine and sweets from her." The other countries stared at him in confusion as France laughed.

"Well of course it will work when you listen to me! So, your little lady friend likes you back?"

"Hold up! Since when do you have a crush?" England questioned as America and China chimed in.

"We could have totally helped you out, dude!"

"Besides, I am the oldest around here. If anyone knows how to treat a woman, that would be me." Que Japan rolling his eyes at China.

"Nah. I was fine like this. And Ms. (C/n) didn't say directly she likes me back, but she gave me sweets and said the flowers were nice." Sealand said as the countries froze in their spots.

"(Y/n)... you asked her out?" Italy asked as his face got pale.

"Yup! In a few years she might agree to be my Valentine for real! But for now, the sweets she gave me will do.' Sealand cheered as he left the room.

Immediately after he left, Japan took his phone out to call (Y/n), which was an action that didn't go unnoticed by Italy, China, and America.

"Hey! Put her on speaker!"

"She is making a huge mistake! She can't wait for Sealand to grow up God knows when!"

"Ve~ I am a way better pick!"

Meanwhile, Russia, Germany, and England were glaring daggers at France, who was both mad and frightened.

"I will give you 10 seconds, da?"

"You are too kind, I am giving him 5 seconds."

"Both of you gits are wrong! Kill him now!"

"Wait! I had no idea who he liked!"

Meanwhile, with (Y/n)....

Belgium pouted as she declined Japan's call for the 5th time while Luxembourg looked at her in amusement.

"You know, she will find out what you did, big sis."

"I am fine with her knowing. As long as her and Netherlands get together, I am saying this was a worth sacrifice."

The two siblings looked back at the said 2 countries. One looked like struggling to say coherent sentences, while the other one had his usual stoic look.

"It doesn't look all too well." Luxembourg chuckled as Belgium sighed in frustration.

"Don't worry! I am sure big brother will catch on to it and be the perfect gentleman! He even bought her hot chocolate." Belgium smiled as the two silently looked at (Y/n) and Netherlands. The girl's face was a dark shade of red as Netherlands stared at her intensely.

"You know...."

Luxembourg and Belgium held their breaths as the oldest spoke up.

"That hot chocolate costed me around 4 euros. Please pay it back when you can."

The two watched in disbelief as he said that and (Y/n) started to scramble for her wallet.

"O-oh! Sure, no worries!"

"Is he nuts?!" Belgium silently yelled as Luxembourg stared at his brother in annoyance.

"Money rules the world for him..."

#hetalia #hetalia axis powers #aph #hetalia world stars #hetalia world series #hws #hws england #hws america #hws france #hws russia #hws china #hws germany #hws italy #hws japan #hetalia x you #hetalia x reader #hetalia requests #hetalia scenarios

[mysticalsoot]

marry the idiot on the stage (request)

Request; You're backstage at a Lovejoy gig, you and Will have been together for abt 3 yrs now (some backstory)and at the end of the gig he calls you to the stage and proposes to u - @tobyloveswilbur

A/N; thank you for the request btw! I started this Saturday and somehow managed to finish it today whilst in the hematologists office. they sung the no more chemo song for a kid while I was there too, I did cry. anywho, I struggled a bit w making it super mushy so I had to throw in calling Wilbur an idiot and a dumbass so I didn't cringe so much I deleted it lmao. anyways, I hope you enjoy it!! (also did change the whole backstage thing a bit but it still holds the same concept!)

TW; none besides like swearing!

Pairings; Reader x CC!Wilbur

Pronouns; not mentioned but uses of y/n and l/n (last name)

Words; 2,041

masterlist here

—★—

When you started dating Wilbur you had no intentions of becoming Lovejoy's travelling techie that designed and programmed their lights and projection visuals. And you especially didn't imagine yourself being ushered on stage in the middle of the show by Wil himself. This was not what you had in mind by any means.

The day had started off slow, pulling yourself out of the hotel bed (and Wil's stupidly tight grasp on you) so you could get ready for the day. It took a good thirty minutes to coax Wilbur to let you go, and bribery did have to be involved. Once you had convinced him, you were up and attom, rushing about the room, grabbing clothes, brushing teeth and hair, tying shoes, packing up your bag for the day—you were like a chicken with it's head cut off but in the most organized way. Wil found it endearing—seeing as he woke up shortly after your tactical escape from his arms (he would say "his love" but he is one for the dramatics) he layed in bed watching you go about your tasks.

He found it oddly domestic, despite how not domestic touring Europe for an entire month away from home was. The thought of you getting ready in the morning after peeling yourself away from him, every day, under the same roof—the concept was magical. But he had already realized how much he wanted it. He knew it and he wasn't afraid to show it.

You stuffed a bagel you had saved from the day before in your mouth, holding onto it before you grabbed your computer bag and slung it over your shoulder. You saw Wil leaning against the headboard, watching you with bright eyes and a soft smile. You walked over to the bed, took the bagel in your hand and placed a kiss on his forehead.

"I'm gonna go work on the set up for the show tonight, I'll be back later." You smile down at him, the only time you can barely tower over him is when he's in bed, partially because he slouches so much.

He wraps his hands around your waist, "Can't it wait?" He whines, pulling you closer to him.

You laugh, "No, it can't. You know how long this tech shit takes." You wrap your arms around his neck and kiss the top of his head. You pull away.

He sets his hands on either side of him and swivels his legs to dangle off the bed, "I love you."

"I love you too," You're already halfway headed out the door, bagel back in your mouth, and you take a bite before holding in your hand. Not too long after, you shut the door and head down the hall to the elevator.

Wilbur didn't particularly mind being alone, but he found you always managed to minimize the coldness that lone silence seemed to have. You warmed him, and when you weren't there, he was cold.

He hoped that cold wouldn't be felt for much longer as he was going to propose today. Yes, there was a gig that evening and there wasn't much time for a private well thought out proposal speech, but he was determined this was the day. This was right.

He had everything planned down to a T, he had already talked with the band of wanting to propose sometime while on tour. The Eiffel tower during their France gigs was an idea thrown into the air, another idea was a private picnic on the roof of one of the hotels you were going to be staying in—they were all great ideas but Wilbur was determined. He would propose during a gig.

Everyone was on board, Joe was baffled at how he didn't think of that while the rest of them teased Wil on how dramatic it would be, in the best way.

His plan was simple, halfway through the setlist, he'd ask the audience if he could invite a special guest onto the stage—he figured he wouldn't have to ask since his fanbase loved you so much but he planned to anyway; it was polite. Then he would look to you in the crowd (he already established with their other tech guy for him to usher you into the crowd for you to "enjoy yourself"), and ask you to join him on stage. Once you did, he'd pop the question. He didn't have a plan for a speech like most proposals and despite the other's protests, he assured them he would be fine. He would let it happen as it happened.

While the band was going through their usual soundcheck, you were backstage getting everything for your side of the gig set up. You went through your light programs and made sure they were all set up and not corrupted—unfortunately the file has corrupted before and you did in fact cry alot. Once all the light setups were checked, the cords were plugged in and the programs were running, you hurried back to your computer to check the animations you set up. It was a simple addition you had suggested back in the early days, before you were even a member of Lovejoy's backstage crew. It was the idea that made them practically beg you to join their crew, and you couldn't pass up their pouts and puppy eyes. So here you were, rewatching your own animation that you made for your partners little indie band and checking wires and connections. You've had issues with the projector not wanting to connect before so you were very thorough with how you checked wire and wireless connections—and making sure it was even plugged in at all.

The ruckus of soundcheck dies out a few minutes later and the band comes rushing back stage, Wilbur's curls already beginning to stick to his forehead with sweat. They all chatter amongst themselves, you keeping yourself busy at the computer. A few tweaks to the animation later and you're preparing to set it up for projection. The tweaks were small, little things you noticed last minute but you decided since you had time, it wouldn't hurt to fix them now.

You don't notice the band has vacated the backstage area until a while later, when you realized Wilbur didn't stop and say hello. He usually does when they go backstage after soundcheck, he'll stop over by wherever your spot at the computer is. He'll use some random pet name he wants to use that day and then he'll sit there, his arms around you and his eyes trained on what you're working on. He didn't do that today.

"Hey, I can take care of the rest of the show if you wanna go watch in the crowd for a bit. Is that cool, with you?" The other backstage tech, Dave, asks. He's flat with his delivery, not meaning any negative or positive tone to seep into his words.

"Are you sure?" You're weary, you know he knows the gist of everything just as much as you do but you still worry something will glitch and he won't know how to fix it.

The other tech nods, and gives you a curt smile. You nod back to him and quickly head out the side door and through the hallway, there's another door just ahead and it leads you to the main floor where everyone is meant to stand, not many people are here yet so you get one of the first dibs on barricade. You go ahead and take a seat close to where Wilbur and Ash would stand, more to the right of the stage, and you go ahead and open your phone.

—★—

"Before we continue, there's one little thing I want to do first—" Wilbur looks around in the crowd for you before spotting you standing in front of him, smiling ever so lovingly. "Y/N, would you do the honors of joining us on stage?" He asks, softly bowing and putting his hand out to help you up. What a true gentleman. The crowd all simultaneously gasp, and then all chant your name in that typical Lovejoy fanbase way. Cult-like is the word for it.

"Of course," you smile and take his hand into yours and he pulls you up onto the stage.

"I have something to ask you, love." He grins, his eyes soft with love.

"You're so fucking dramatic, Wil. You're pulling me on the stage to ask me a question?" You laugh, smiling from ear to ear. He's always been one for thematics, big and grand gestures. And they're often enough meant for you at the end of the day.

"Yeah, yeah, maybe?" He pauses, a smirk curling up on his lips. The rest of the band is watching, Joe and Leandra giggling together on the farthest side of the stage. Ash and Mark give each other knowing glances..and you know you're in for something ridiculous now. Wilbur reaches forward and takes your hands in his, "Y/N L/N, you're my best friend, my partner, and despite our sometimes turbulent history—we hold a deep love for each other, and so,"

He pulls out a ring box before going on one knee—you notice how the box is painted, half teal and half your favorite color, initials written poorly on the top. Wilbur and his stupid chicken scratch. Seeing the outside of the box makes you want to cry at that alone, forget the fact you're being proposed to infront of hundreds of people. This man made you a ring box! How fucking cool is that?

"Will you marry me?" He opens the box to show a thin sliver engagement band, a vine engraved all the way around it. The audience whisper-chants say yes together, the band joins in shortly after.

"What do you think?" You pause, eyes squinting by how wide you're smiling, and the crowd erupts into excited whispers. Wilbur looks to you expectantly, his smile not dropping once—he knows the answer, he just wants to hear it, "Yes, I'll marry you, Wil." Saying those words broke something in you, in a good way, and you began to cry. You swore to yourself you would never cry if you were proposed to—but you couldn't help it. Seeing Wilbur so giddy to ask the question, noticing the time and work he put into the fucking ring box—it pushed you over the edge. He was so thoughtful about it that the idea of all that he went through to make this happen seemed to trigger the waterworks.

He jumps up off his knee onto his feet, he gently puts the ring on your left hand and you wrap your arms around his neck. He pulls you in for a kiss, soft and sweet. His hands are on your back and he's just barely lifting you off the ground. The audience cheers and laughs, clapping excitedly. There's "Congratulations" being yelled and you swear you heard someone yell "my streamer finally gets bitches!" somewhere in the crowd. The band joins in the celebration, clapping and cheering just before Mark yells to get a room.

You pull apart, slightly out of breath, but still smiling as wide as ever. "You're a sap, you know that?" You tell him, your hands holding onto his shirt where it rests on his side.

"Yeah, but you love me for it." He leans his forehead against yours, noses touching.

"I sure do, Mr Soot." You laugh a moment, before pulling away, "Now get back to your show, dumbass." You lightly smack his chest and he holds his heart in fake offense.

"You're so mean." Wilbur gasps, his tone betraying his attempt at hurt.

"Oh but you love it," You smirk, holding up your left hand that he just put a ring on.

"I do, don't I?" He smiles just before turning back to the crowd to start the gig back. You sneak off stage and back into the crowd, easily blending in for the most part, aside from the few whispers from the people just around you. Congratulations and I'm so proud of you's are thrown around and you smile. You're happy, you're content and you're so excited to marry the idiot on the stage.

#wilbur soot x reader #wilbur #wilbur soot x you #wilbur soot x y/n #wilbur soot #cc!wilbur #cc!wilbur x reader #cc!wilbur soot #wilbur x gn!reader #i have a hard time writing mush #so i called wil an idiot to counteract it

[mariacallous]

From Taiwan and Finland in January to Croatia and Ghana in December, one of the largest combined electorates in history will vote for new governments in 2024. This should be a cause of celebration and a vindication of the power of the ballot box. Yet this coming year is likely to see one of the starkest erosions of liberal democracy since the end of the Cold War. At their worst, the overall results could end up as a bloodbath or, marginally less bleakly, as a series of setbacks.

At first glance, the stats are impressive. Forty national elections will take place, representing 41 percent of the world’s population and 42 percent of its gross domestic product. Some will be more consequential than others. Some will be more unpredictable than others. (You can strike Russia and Belarus from that list.) One or two may produce uplifting results.

However, in the United States and Europe, the two regions that are the cradles of democracy—or at least, that used to project themselves as such—the year ahead is set to be bracing.

It is no exaggeration to say that the structures established after World War II, and which have underpinned the Western world for eight decades, will be under threat if former U.S. President Donald Trump wins a second term in November. Whereas his first period in the White House might be regarded as a psychodrama, culminating in the paramilitary assault on Congress shortly after his defeat, this time around, his menace will be far more professional and penetrating.

European diplomats in Washington fear a multiplicity of threats—the imposition of blanket tariffs, also known as a trade war; the sacking of thousands of public officials and their replacement with politicized loyalists; and the withdrawal of remaining support for Ukraine and the undermining of NATO. For Russian President Vladimir Putin, the return of Trump would be manna from heaven. Expect some form of provocation from the Kremlin in the Baltic states or another state bordering Russia to test the strength of Article 5, the mutual defense clause of the Western alliance.

More broadly, a Trump victory would arguably mark the final dismantling of the credibility of Western liberal democracies. From India to South Africa and from Brazil to Indonesia, countries variously called middle powers, pivot countries, multi-aligned states—or, now less fashionably, the global south—will continue the trend of picking and choosing their alliances, seeing moral equivalence in the competitive bids on offer.

The greatest effect that a Trump return could have would be on Europe, accelerating the onward march of the alt right or far right across the continent. Yet that trend will have gained momentum long before Americans go to the polls. French President Emmanuel Macron and German Chancellor Olaf Scholz are looking over their shoulders as the second wave of populism affects the conduct of government.

The wedge issue that is threatening all moderate parties is immigration, just as it did in 2015, when former German Chancellor Angela Merkel allowed in more than 1 million refugees from the Middle East in what is now seen as the first wave of Europe’s immigration crisis. This time around, the arguments propagated by the AfD (the far-right Alternative for Germany party), Marine Le Pen’s National Rally in France, and similar groups across the continent have permeated the political mainstream.

The past 12 months have seen European Union decision-making constantly undermined by Prime Minister Viktor Orban in Hungary, particularly further support for Ukraine. For the moment, he stands alone, but he is likely to be joined by others, starting with the newly returned Prime Minister Robert Fico in Slovakia. Italian Prime Minister Giorgia Meloni has struck a tacit deal with Brussels, remaining loyal on supporting Ukraine (against her instincts and previous statements) in return for effectively being given carte blanche in Italy’s domestic politics.

In September, Austria seems almost certain to vote in a coalition of the far right and the conservatives. A country that has (ever since the withdrawal of Soviet forces in 1955) prized its neutrality and been keen to ingratiate itself with Moscow has already been uncomfortable giving full-scale support to Kyiv. We can expect that support to soon be scaled back.

One of the few countries with a center-left administration, Portugal, will see it join the pack of the right and far right when snap elections are held in March. The previous incumbent, the Socialist Party’s outgoing Prime Minister Antonio Costa, was forced to quit amid a corruption investigation.

The most explosive moment is likely to occur in June, with the elections to the European Parliament. This reshuffling of the Euro-pack, which happens once every four years, was always seen in the United Kingdom as an opportunity to behave even more frivolously than usual. In 2014, the British electorate, in its inestimable wisdom, put Nigel Farage and his U.K. Independence Party in first place, setting in train a series of events that, two years later, led to the referendum to leave the EU.

Having seen the damage wrought by Brexit, voters in the remaining 27 EU member states are not angling for their countries to go it alone. However, many will use the opportunity to express their antipathy to mainstream politics by opting for a populist alternative. Some might see it as a low-risk option, believing that the European parliament does not count for much.

In so doing, they would be deluding themselves. It is entirely possible that the various forces of the far right could emerge as the single biggest bloc. This might not lead to a change in the composition of the European Commission (the diminished mainstream groupings would still collectively hold a majority), but any such extremist upsurge will change the overall dynamics across Europe.

Far-right parties in charge of governments will see themselves emboldened to pursue ever more radical nativist policies. In countries in where they are junior members of ruling coalitions (such as in Sweden), they will apply further pressure on their more mainstream conservative partners to move in their direction.

Conversely, countries that saw a surprising resurgence of the mainstream in national elections this year are unlikely to see that trend maintained. Spanish Prime Minister Pedro Sánchez’s success in staving off the right was achieved only by cutting a deal with Catalan separatists. This led to protests by Spanish nationalists and a situation that is anything but stable.

Prime Minister Donald Tusk’s victory in Poland was at least as remarkable because the far-right Law and Justice party (PiS) government had used its years in government to try to skew the media and the courts in its direction. Expect PiS gains in June.

The most alarming result of 2023 was the return to prominence, and the verge of power, of Geert Wilders. The Dutch elections provide a how-not-to guide for mainstream politicians. The willingness of the center-right party of the outgoing Prime Minister Mark Rutte to contemplate a coalition with Wilders’s Party for Freedom emboldened many voters who had assumed their vote would be disregarded.

In Europe’s biggest economy, Germany, the so-called firewall established by the main parties to refuse to govern with the AfD is beginning to fray. Already, the conservative Christian Democratic Union (CDU) is working with them in small municipalities. Friedrich Merz, the CDU leader, has dropped hints that such an option might not be out of the question at the regional level.

If the AfD gains the largest number of seats in the June European Parliament elections (opinion polls currently put it only marginally behind the CDU and ahead of all three parties in Scholz’s so-called traffic light coalition), then the momentum will change rapidly. It could go on to win three of the states in the former communist east—Thuringia, Saxony, and Brandenburg—next autumn. Germany would enter unchartered territory.

These dire predictions could end up being overblown. Mainstream parties in several countries may defy the doom merchants and emerge less badly than forecast. Given recent trends, however, optimism is thin on the ground.

There is one election, however, due to take place in the latter part of 2024 that could produce not just a centrist outcome, but one with a strong majority in its parliament. Britain, the country that left the heart of Europe, the island that until recently was run by a clown, could emerge as the lodestar for modern social democracy. The irony would be lost on no one.

[astranix]

slytherin sirius black × gryffindor james potter

the most non-angsty sirius and regulus running away fic ever coz we don't have enough of those

"This was, without a doubt," Regulus pants, glancing over his shoulder, "the stupidest thing you've ever done! And that's really saying something."

"This was also, without a doubt," Sirius says, glaring, "the best decision of my whole miserable life."

"We're gonna starve, you fucking idiot—!" Regulus says, smacking him on the back of his head. "We have nowhere to go."

Sirius freezes in his steps.

"Uncle Alphard?" he asks. Regulus smacks him again, and Sirius smacks him back.

"We can't go there, Sirius," Regulus says, wincing and rubbing his head. "Mother would know. She must already know, because it's the only place we could possibly go!"

There's silence for a second.

"Right. Lestrange isn't an option, neither is Dolohov," Sirius says, grimly. "Mulciber is a bitch, Avery's too thick to understand. Snape's probably homeless himself. What about you?"

"Barty's parents never leave him alone," Regulus clenches his jaw. "And Rosier would probably not be home. He's been sending me postcards from France."

"Fuck," Sirius scans where they're standing. "Andromeda hasn't talked to you since she ran, has she?"

"You think she'll talk to me before you?" Regulus scoffs. "She hasn't. And we can't live on the fucking streets, you know that."

"We have money," Sirius says.

"Yeah, but we would have to get it exchanged into muggle money, which, one, we don't know shit about. And two, we would have to walk straight into Gringotts. Anybody could see us."

Regulus tugs at his hair, always the one who worries more, always the one who gives up earlier.

"Well," Sirius, hedges, "if we could find an owl, we wouldn't need to go to Diagon Alley."

"Oh yes, of course," Regulus says, snidely. "All our problems are now completely solved! We just need a goddamn owl!"

The muggles walking past them give them strange looks, and Regulus lowers his tone.

"Look, Sirius," he says, fixing him with a determined expression. Sirius already hates where this is going. "You're sixteen, you're going to be out of Grimmauld in a year or two, anyway. And if you move out, I'll move with you. But we—we can't do anything except go back. It's cold. It's going to rain soon. We haven't eaten in a day."

Sirius stares at him, incredulous.

"If this is about your ego," Regulus starts, angrily, "then—"

"No!" Sirius interrupts, hotly. "Are you insane?! This is about our continued existence. She would kill us, if we went back! She's a fucking psycho! She was just about to curse the shit out of you, for no reason, which is literally why we ran—"

"I can take it," Regulus dismisses. "Besides, you ran out, and dragged me along."

Sirius gapes at him, unable to speak more.

"No," Sirius says, firmly, and looks straight at Regulus, because what he says now is what they do, this is final. "We're not going back."

Regulus's shoulders drop, defeated.

"Right," he mutters, and the sudden resignation that settles on his face, bitter and tired, makes Sirius think that sometimes, he's no better than his mother.

They stand silently, for a tense, uncomfortable moment.

Then, "I have an idea," Sirius says, because he does.

And it's a bad, bad one.

Of course, it's also the only one they have.

That, right then, that's when it starts raining.

Regulus scrambles for shade under the shed of the muggle shop closest to them.

Sirius braces himself, and raises his wand.

It's only a moment before the Knight Bus pops, loud and purple and sharply at contrast with the grey evening.

"Godric's Hollow," he says to the conductor, and hands him a handful of sickles. "And two hot chocolates."

They take a seat, and Regulus looks at him with a dubious expression.

"Godric's Hollow?" he pronounces, slowly. Sirius ignores him, grabbing the two mugs that the conductor gives them.

"Why are we going to Godric's Hollow?" Regulus insists, his teeth chattering in the cold. "Sirius? What the hell? We don't know anyone there."

He's right.

Sort of.

Sirius just hands Regulus the hot chocolate, refusing to answer.

"We're going to die," Regulus mumbles, gloomily. "We're really going to die."

"Shut it," Sirius says, and gives the conductor two sickles more for blankets. "You're not."

(-)

Sirius knows which house they have to go to, the moment he sees it.

It's big, bright, there's green grass surrounding it. It looks like one of those pictures in childrens' books, flowers and fences and whatnot.

It's barely drizzling by the time they reach.

Regulus had settled to just watching Sirius do whatever he wants to, but as soon as he starts walking towards the house, Regulus freezes in his tracks.

"I really need some information, right now," he says, quietly, wary eyes on the house. There's something beautiful about the whole scene, brick-red and cosy, and that's even more suspicious, isn't it.

They don't know anybody so warm.

"It's Potter's house," Sirius admits, finally. Regulus startles, whipping around to stare at him, absolutely shocked.

Anybody would be.

"Potter?" he hisses, like he's never heard the name before. "Potter?! What—! Sirius, he hates you! You hate him back! You hate each other!"

"I know," Sirius says, and rings the doorbell.

"Oh my god," Regulus breathes out, disbelieving. "You're mad. You're actually mad. We spent so much of our money to come here, Sirius. And when Potter, for obvious fucking reasons, turns us away, we won't even—"

The front door opens.

Regulus tugs at Sirius's sleeve.

"We can still run, come on, it won't be as embarrassing then," he says, frantic, "Even Alphard would be better than this. We could hide in his dungeon."

"Alphard has a dungeon?" Sirius asks, curiously, just as James Potter steps out.

He looks at them for a second, blankly, blinking behind thin-wired round frames. His hair is a mess, as usual, he's wearing actual pyjamas. And then, a moment later, his brain seems to catch up with him.

"What," James Potter says, bewildered. "What are you doing here—?"

"We need a place to stay," Sirius says, demands. Do the Potters rent out rooms to guests? That would make so much more sense. "For some days."

"Huh?" Potter's expression says that they do not, in fact, own a guest service. "Wha—?"

Sirius sighs, and pulls Regulus with him, again, not away from the house, like they should be going, but towards, and then he—then he just—

He walks inside Potter's house.

Just. Pushes past him, and walks in.

Like he owns it.

Regulus and Potter stare at each other, Regulus is horrified, Potter is confused.

"Thanks," Sirius's voice comes from inside.

"You're welcome," Potter mutters, automatically, before blinking dumbly, again, and going inside.

Regulus, reluctantly, ridiculously, follows him.

(-)

So.

Sirius has now, in a span of 24 hours, cussed out his mother, thrown cutlery at their father's head, forced his way into someone’s home, and clearly, he has no plans to leave.

James Potter is apparently, and bizarrely, completely okay with this.

"My parents won't be home until late evening," he says, uncertainly, in his own home, while Sirius sits on the couch, comfortable as all hell, reading the last edition of Witch Weekly. "We should eat something."

Yes! Regulus's stomach says.

"We can't cook," he says, aloud, apologetically. "We had elves."

"Well, we don't. And I can cook," Potter says, shrugging. "What would you like?"

What the fuck is even going on, Regulus thinks.

"I'll help," he says, instead. Potter just shrugs again.

(-)

"Why?" Regulus asks, as soon as they reach the kitchen, shutting the door behind him. It's not like the kitchen at Grimmauld. It has a muggle stove, and what Regulus is guessing, other muggle... devices.

"Why what?" Potter says, and the slight grin on his face tells Regulus that he knows exactly what he's talking about.

"Why—" Regulus huffs, "why're you doing all this?"

"I'm hungry," Potter says, with an infuriating smirk, as he opens the shelves, takes out a pan and some plates. "And my mum taught me well."

"You know that's not what I'm asking," Regulus says. "Why did you let us in? Why're you letting us—" stay.

If he is, that is.

"Actually you'll find that I did not, in fact, let you in," he replies, setting the pan on the flame and dropping a unnecessary amount of butter. It sizzles and melts, and Regulus can't bring himself to meet Potter's eyes. "That would imply you asked."

"Okay," Regulus huffs. "Why didn't you kick Sirius and me out then?"

Potter's expression flickers a little, and he looks away, absent-mindedly cutting the tomato he's got on the counter.

Regulus waits.

Chop chop chop.

"Well," James says, finally, quietly, eyes on the thin slices of tomato, "you can't quite say no to Sirius Black, can you?"

"You... could have," Regulus narrows his eyes.

Potter just shakes his head. "He's...he's—"

"Oh, god no," Regulus exhales, because no way. "Not you too."

"'Too?'" Potter repeats.

"You like Sirius, don't you?" Regulus asks, scoffing when Potter gives him a wide-eyed expression.

He's so painfully obvious.

Regulus doesn't want to interpret any of this. He goes on, anyway.

"You know he's using you, right?" he asks, quietly.

Chop chop chop chop.

"He doesn't know anything about that, Black," Potter says, eyes firmly on the pan, as he slides the onion and tomato slices off the board.

"Sirius," Regulus says, slowly, "always knows when someone likes him. He always, always knows what anybody feels about him. My brother's a lot of things, but oblivious or delusional he's not."

"Maybe I just don't mind the company, alright?" Potter replies, curt, and Regulus is just about to reply, when a sudden noise comes from outside, the thud of the door.

"James, honey?" says a woman's voice, sounding mildly confused.

#sirius black #james potter #prongsfoot #pre-prongsfoot #starbucks #regulus black #slytherin sirius black #at this point im not even certain if i wrote this or not??? #im clearing out my REALLY old drafts #like #three years #i guess #no clue #but well

[hotchfiles]

finale. damn your love.

masterlist

pairing: james x fem!reader.

content warnings: james being kind of an ass, cheating on lily, lily will be probably shit talked (i luv her i'm very sorry !), mistress!reader, uhhh cursing, not totally AU but like... canon divergent i would say. probably hurt/no comfort unless i switch the ending but--

worth mentioning: reader insert with no use of names or “y/n”. paragraphs completely in italic are flashbacks. pro quidditch player!james. muggle born!reader.

word count: 2,1k

previous chapter

chapter 4, finale.

you spent the whole afternoon with some cousins, talking about the whole france thing, asking questions and trying to understand why they didn't move there when your aunt, their mother, did. stable job, pregnancy... all reasons you certainly didn't have to hold you back. you could ask to be transferred to france's ministry of magic, or just take a muggle job as you thought about sometimes. and you definitely didn't have a baby on the way, nor a husband, or a boyfriend.

still, your heart was full of uncertainty, is the perfect place to fall in love, one of your cousins said, and you laughed as if love wasn't the problem to begin with, as if love wasn't the one thing pushing you away from your home town because you were too weak.

you got home and by instinct started roaming around your apartment, looking at every picture, the place was full of things you loved, things you were dearly attached to and would deeply miss like your friends, the rest of your family, the london weather you could always see from your window... and obviously, james.

you weren't innocent to believe he would even remember you when making a decision like this, you very much knew if the roles were reverse he probably would be in france by now, and that hurt, that cut your hurt deeply, knowing he didn't care was a terrible feeling, but still, you cared, you didn't really want to live away from him, because even after everything he put you through, you loved him.

even when you were angry you couldn't imagina a life without james, it wasn't easy to switch your brain around completely, fact was that for too long you were sure that being close to him, that having him even for a night was the best for you, because you had him. and a life where you wouldn't have him at all seemed... empty. but that emptiness seemed like such a relief if it came with no longer being his second option, not having to hear her name, not being the one he looks for to complain about her while also not doing anything to leave her. that seemed comforting. and the right thing. but you still were confused. it was too big of a decision that you had to make all on your own, anyone you told about it would certainly tell you to move and leave him behind. it was the right choice. so you couldn't.

while looking for a painkiller in your drawers (crying always gave you a headache, and you've been doing it a lot the last few days) you found the worst possible thing you could: a memories book. you and james had made two of those the last year of hogwarts. with pictures and little notes and diary entries. the first page was your first picture together from when you were eleven, it was winter time, you both had your cold clothes on but still your cheeks and noses were extremely red. the picture itself was already a punch to the gut, but alongside there was his handwriting, meaning you probably left something on his as well, "you complete me since i was eleven. back then i didn't know how big that was, but now i do, meeting you was the most important thing to ever happen to me. you're my best friend and i love you. from eleven to forever."

you tried to hold back the tears but it was inevitable, it was terrible to see how much things had changed since then, the person who once said you completed him, now would go months and months without talking to you, and then appear out of nowhere at your door in the middle of the night, it was always like that now.

now the moments where you really felt like he needed you were rare, very different than how he was as a teenager, then there was a constant need to listen to you, to be helped by you, to touch you. and it was the same for you, and it hasn't changed for you, but it has for him.

each picture from that album was a different knife to your chest, each photo causing you a another wave of sobs as you compulsively cried. every memory confused you even more, because in london you had that man, not always, but when you did it was like you were complete again, and when you were away from each other, you felt empty. you didn't want to feel empty forever.

in a moment of pure nostalgia you came to the conclusion that your james, the james from those pictures, still existed, even if just deep down, well in the back of his mind, he did still exist, and if you two could finally talk with honesty without fighting, you could bring that james back and you could work it out.

before you would loose that single string of courage, you took your wand from your nightstand and conjured your patronus, non corporal as always, with time it began to feel humiliating to have yours mirroring his after so many years, your message with it was simple, yet desperate: i really really need you right now, come see me.

you felt relief, knowing he would be there soon and you two would talk. at least that's what you expected him to do. but he never came. nor did he send a response. and truly, you could expect anything coming from him, but not that, you were clearly distraught in your message, and it still didn't matter. just a new way to disappoint you.

then you finally, finally saw the problem for what it was: you romanticized everything about that man, you could find beauty in every disappearance, you saw loving gazes when there was only lust in his eyes. there was no love coming from james, not for you. and you should have noticed that the first time he disappointed you. but you loved him too much and you thought things would be fine one day.

and nothing would ever be fine, not as long as you let him treat you like that, not if you kept answering to his pleads. not if you still opened the door for him.

you were very nervous, but in the best way. it had been some weeks since the last time you had seen and talked to james, being one of appleby arrows' newest and youngest chasers was very time consuming, and you respected that. but he was home, you knew he was, sirius had told you over letter when he would be back. you wanted to surprise him.

you weren't dating anymore for some time now, for no other reason other than the fact he couldn't be the boyfriend you deserved right now because of the team. you understood that, you thought it was endearing how he was thinking of you that way, and you still missed him when he was gone, you missed his smile, his eyes, his voice, his curls, his blurred glasses you would always have to clean.

you two had an unbreakable bond, best friends who were always there for each other, and even after breaking up you both had spent a few nights together, some just cuddling, some more than that. you didn't mind because you knew james loved you, and that he was just busy right now.

you apparate directly at his door without notice, the perks of being of age, and knocked on the door a few times, not even trying to hide the smile that took half of your face, you were so excited to hear him talk about the games, to see him, to feel his arms around your waist. to just think you were a few steps from feeling his scent... you were glad the torture of being away was over for now.

ms. euphemia is the one to open the door and you try not to notice how her smile simply disappeared as soon as she noticed it was you by the door, it was probably your imagination, she always liked you, actually, she loved you, you were always called for family dinners and vacations, you were part of the family, just as james was a part of yours.

"darling! didn't expect you so soon..." she sounds concerned, her head turning around for a slight second, seemingly checking for something, before giving you room to come in. "come in, sweetheart." you hug her in appreciation, and also because you've missed her almost as much as you missed her son.

"jamie's home, right?"

"yes dear, in the kitchen... but be careful." you don't understand what she means at first and you don't try to hard to, you don't have time to, your steps quick to the kitchen, regret filling your mind and your heart as soon as you did so.

james had a girl by his side, you knew very much who she was even, from hogwarts, gryffindor like the both of you. lily evans. their hands were intertwined, his smile that once was only yours was freely being directed at her, and worse than that, you see him brush his lips, that were also yours, on hers.

your heart shatters. you feel like there's no floor to fall to anymore. you didn't know what to do, how to deal with that. you were so sure he loved you, that he didn't want a serious commitment simply because of his job, and now you saw with your own eyes that he just didn't want to commit to you.

you take the deepest breath you've ever taken, holding your tears back as you try to maintain at least some of your pride. he didn't even notice you were there, too busy completely lovesick for the one in front of him. you turn around and get out of their sight, euphemia looks at you with the saddest eyes and calls you with her hands for a hug, which you gladly take. you can't hold the tears anymore, so you cry.

"i'm messin' up your blouse." you whine, feeling so sorry for that you couldn't even put into words, it was silly.

"dear, my son broke your heart, don't mind the blouse." she hugs you even tighter as you both hear laughter coming from the kitchen, "you'll always be my favorite. my james will see how wrong he is, just wait a little." you slowly agree with a nod, and as you both notice steps approaching, she lets you go from the hug.

you can hear james asking her if it was you just as you close the door and apparated back to your house. that was the last time you saw both of them for... you don't even know how long.

euphemia told you to wait a little, and unconsciously you followed her advice, but you couldn't wait anymore, that was too much, it had been years, too many years, he made your life hell by taking advantage of the fact you felt in heaven by his side.

you let yourself sob, this time in total and complete rage, taking the book full of memories in your hand and throwing it in a trashcan.

incendio.

you were going to burn him out if you couldn't ignore the memories. you watched the flames dance as they destroyed the paper, but the feeling in your gut didn't get smaller. and to think he was probably having a nice time with his girlfriend by now made you even more angry. angry at him, resentful at yourself for letting it get this far.

you went back to the room and screamed in fury, throwing every single one of the frames containing pictures of you two on the floor, you desperately wanted him out, you didn't want anything to do with him anymore, you wanted him gone, gone.

you spent the next hours going through everything you had, burning pictures, breaking cds, destroying plushies, ripping clothes apart, you knew for sure your neighbours would call the police at some point because of the breaking sounds and your yelling, but you didn't care anymore.

and then... your eyes fell to your bed, and you realized it didn't matter how much you tried to get him out of your home, james had plastered himself everywhere. everything reminded you of him. you truly couldn't be there anymore. you couldn't sleep in that bed, in that room anymore.

and you knew, there was no confusion. london wasn't your home anymore.

so you left. your apartment. your hometown. your beloved country.

and most importantly. you left james.

tag: @xcinnamonmalfoyx @dreamsygirl

#lari writes sometimes #marauders x reader #james potter x reader #james potter x you #james potter x y/n #james potter x fem!reader #james x you #james x reader #james x y/n #james potter imagine #james potter scenario

[tommydarlings]

pairing: charles leclerc x reader

warnings: none

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Fireworks were going off like crazy in France as you looked up into the sky, hand still tightly holding the gloved covered one from your boyfriend Charles. “Be careful, baby.” The Ferrari driver mumbled to you, fingers gripping yours in a very gentle way as he leaded you to the roof. “Yeah, yeah, don’t worry char, I won’t get hurt.” You reassured your boyfriend.

“C'mon lovebirds, The countdown is gonna start any second!” Charles brother, Arthur, spoke in a loud tone before he crossed his arms and exhaled a deep breath, most probably because of the coldness. “Here honey.” Charles mother muttered in your direction as she handed you the glass filled with expansive champagne.

You said a quick 'thank you' as you felt Charles putting his arm around your shoulder, pulling you closer to his body.

“You cold?” He whispered in your ear after he gave you a quick peck on your temple.

“No, it’s fine.” You answered with a smile as you squeezed his hand and looked up at him with a grin on your face.

He smiled before he took a tiny sip from his glass, “perfect.”

“10, 9, 8, 7, 6, 5,” you all counted down, looking up at the big dark sky as the colourfull fireworks lit it up. You smiled before you felt Charles taking your glass out of your hand, putting it onto the dark concrete you were currently all standing on as you looked at him with furrowed brows. “4, 3, 2, 1!” Suddenly, your boyfriend, Charles, grabbed you by your hips, pulled your body tightly onto his and kissed you deeply with a smile covering his soft lips. You couldn’t resist anymore, you also started to smile into the sweet kiss as you lifted your hands and placed them slowly onto his cheeks, trying to warm his cold skin a bit with your fluffy gloves.

“Je t'aime.” I love you. Charles whispered before he lovingly kissed your forehead, thumbs drawing tiny circles onto your jacket. You chuckled in a rather quiet tone before you went in for another kiss, “je t'aime Charles baby.” You answered with a smile.

“You do know that you are the best thing that happened to me last year, right?” He asked you quietly, hands squeezing your hips. Your smile only grew bigger now, eyes getting slightly glassy while you looked up at your boyfriend. You dropped your head forwards onto his chest, forehead landing on his collarbone as he heard a chuckle.

“Your also the best thing that happened to me last year.“

“And all the following years, baby.” Charles muttered, kissing the top of your head.

“And all the following years.” You agreed.

#fanfic #fanfiction #f1 #f1 fluff #f1 fandom #f1 ferrari #Ferrari #charles leclerc x you #charles leclerc fluff #charles leclerc f1 #charles leclerc x reader #charles leclerc ferrari #charles leclerc imagine #charles leclerc fanfic #charles leclerc

[alicerosejensen]

I already read everything you have published and I love it.

Following up on your previous post, how long will it be until Leon feels ready to propose to his girlfriend, and if she says yes, would they like a big wedding or something more private? Also, how would things be before the wedding?

One last thing, what is your native language?

We will consider this a continuation of part 3, which I am still translating.

It's all good. I receive all requests and will definitely answer them, but since English is not my native language, I do it quite slowly.

The text mentions a song by Lana Del Rey (sorry, I just love her music).

I take pictures and gifs from Pinterest.

It's been a good three years of relationship. It was funny how an ordinary interest turned into something more serious, which Leon cannot refuse, preferring to keep safe and with him like some kind of diamond.

And that diamond was you. The diamond who was sitting at the same table with him, with both legs thrown on the next vacant chair, while your hands were flipping through a new book about the Incas or the Maya? Leon didn't listen too closely, preferring to just admire you in the morning sun, forgetting about his cold coffee.

It was natural that two people who know each other well enough and have strong feelings for each other decided to legitimize their relationship, but a number of problems arose: 1) His work does not seem to forbid, but also does not understand the presence of a family. There are some D.S.O programs to protect the data of their agents' families, but Leon has never been interested in them. 2) Your age difference. Leon was almost forty and you're still too young. Yes, college will soon be left behind, but you are unlikely to want to start a family so early, despite the fact that it was somewhere in your plans. Just not now. 3) Despite the fact that he deeply loved you and knew that the feeling was mutual, Leon had no idea if you saw him as your husband.

Besides, the last thing he wanted was for you to get hurt. More precisely, he didn't want it at all! But he loved you so much that he partly began to understand Glenn Arias in his madness because of the death of his wife.

It has nothing to do with the case, but Leon really wanted you to put a ring on your ring finger and become Mrs. Kennedy. However, he has not yet fully decided on it himself.

How can he carefully find out from you what you think about this? Leon gave you a worried look, but you didn't even notice it, too absorbed in reading. He had already turned his back to you to pour the coffee into the sink, and immediately froze as soon as he suddenly heard you quietly humming some strange song to yourself. Cacciatore? Some Salvatore? Limousines? Leon didn't comment on it in any way, just made sure that you didn't talk to him. "I just wanted to sing the chorus of my favorite song."

A sudden impulse, but then a message came to your phone and you reached for it to read it, and then showed Leon a couple of photos of your young friends from their honeymoon.

Leon regarded this as a great opportunity to carefully find out your attitude to marriage without giving himself away.

"Don't you think they got married too soon?" - You shrugged indifferently as you typed an answer to your friend.

"It's none of my business."

While you were carefully looking at the photos of friends in love from France, Leon stood still not knowing how to choose the right words. He rinsed the mug in the water, putting it in place and decided to start carefully "attacking" again.

"If you were choosing a place for your honeymoon, where would you go?" - It was risky, although you just looked away somewhere to the side, tilting your head to the side like a child, thinking about the question. - "Paris too?"

You were hiding like you ate something very sour.

"Paris is banal. I would have thought of something more interesting."

"For example?"

"Don't know… maybe Spain?"

Leon coughed. Not the most pleasant memories. For some reason, he imagined you wandering around Salazar's castle in search of various trinkets and trying to ask Ganado about their history, while he drags you everywhere by the hand, trying to shoot infected Las Plagas with a shotgun and pistol.

And then he will find you drinking tea with this same Salazar, talking sweetly about some abstract topic. The pictorial art of the fifteenth century, for example? At least this thought and the image that appeared before his eyes lifted his mood with its absurdity.

He rewarded you with a half-smile and dismissed the idea of marriage indefinitely. Until college graduation.

Until next week, actually.

Leon was just going into the store to restock some groceries when he accidentally bumped into a fellow agent. The conversation would not have gone beyond greeting if a little boy of five or six years old had not hit Leon's legs. He didn't even apologize and just ran on through the store until his father called out to him.

"You should apologize! Go up to Leon and apologize for pushing him!"

The child looked excitedly into his eyes, but still obeyed, slowly approaching an unfamiliar man.

"In fact, it's not necessary…"

"They need to learn to be polite. Do you have any children Leon?"

It was a strange question. Of course, before the outbreak of the G-virus in Raccoon City, Leon had some kind of plan for the rest of his life after graduating from the police academy. And in this plan there were two Kennedy babies, a house with a pool and a golden retriever, and of course a charming wife. Only Leon personally hammered the last nail into the coffin of his dreams.

Leaving your wife alone with a child in this dark world where every day there is a chance that another psycho terrorist may take it into his head to arrange another zombie apocalypse? That's not what he wanted.

But he still annoyed Hannigan with his questions. As if assessing the risk, Leon stared at Ingrid while she wiped her glasses.

"Is there a specific reason why you are interested in this topic?"

"No."

"Then stop wasting my time!"

Fair. Despite the information he obtained, Leon continued to walk like a gloomy ghost around his own house occasionally looking at you strangely. You caught those looks every time you asked him what was the matter, but he waved it off.

And then he asked you about that wedding. Then you had already separated and you were a bridesmaid without a couple. However, you had a good time without it, cherishing the hope that you, too, will someday have a beautiful wedding with a honeymoon.

Leon nodded, taking a sip of Jack Daniels from his glass. A beautiful wedding… with a bouquet of flowers, gifts, guests, a sweet cake and a magnificent white dress. A wedding in the best traditions…

That's what he couldn't give you. An important day in your life (if you agreed to marry him) is likely to become a normal weekday with the receipt of a marriage certificate. You deserve what you dream about, and he probably deprives you of it feeling boundless guilt.

Leon doesn't want to let you go. He hates the idea that you will leave again, leaving him in this empty apartment. however, he does not want you to suffer through his fault. Leon has long admitted to himself that he wants to come home to his family - to you and at least one Kennedy baby. But fuck, he's almost never around because of these missions! And you didn't think about motherhood as such at all. He's almost forty, not you!

But he decided to try again the attempt of careful questioning when you laid him on the bed so that he lay on his stomach to get a light massage before going to bed.

"So Paris is a bad idea?" - Leon thought when you frowned, sitting on his lower back and gently kneading his back. - "What about the Eiffel Tower? The Petit Trianon at Versailles? Those famous French delicatessen cafes? I thought you said you'd like to visit the Moulin Rouge sometime."

"Well, maybe someday. Paris is beautiful just not right for my honeymoon."

You said you wanted something original. So you ended the conversation and continued the massage in silence. And at night felt through a dream how Leon's palm touches your cheek, and then goes down to your neck, collarbones, all the way to your stomach, until he hugs you tightly, pressing you to him. Yes, it woke you up, but maybe he had a nightmare again? Leon wasn't sleeping, and you knew it, so you turned around and put your head on his chest, falling asleep again.

I don't care if you guessed about his thoughts or not, but after much thought, Leon still decided to try his luck.

Life is too short not to try to at least become a little happier.

He bought a cute diamond ring, trying to find something not boring and at the same time not pretentious. However, after tiring the consultant, he finally gave him an entertaining idea: if you don't like what Leon chose, you can come here again and buy any other ring that you like more.

You brought him such relief and comfort after meeting with all these viruses and parasites that Leon saw no problem in buying another ring in case you didn't like it at all. Of course, you can't tell him about it, but he knows his girlfriend's emotions too well.

Leon also ordered dinner at home, considering that due to your workload in college, you didn't sleep much, completely devoting yourself to the last academic year. Besides, he didn't invite you to the restaurant because he still wasn't sure of your answer. Positive or negative? If you do not want this, at least the home environment will not create severe discomfort.

And here you are sitting in your home clothes, calmly eating your favorite food, watching some action movie with your boyfriend, not knowing about the blue velvet box in his jeans pocket.

You can see that Leon is very nervous, scolding himself for the fact that it would be better to rehearse the speech in advance, but you are so absorbed in the film that you do not pay any attention to him at all until exactly the moment when he takes the plate from your hands and puts it on the table.

It took a few seconds for the tired brain to figure out where the dinner had gone.

Your palms immediately find themselves in his warm hands and it looks so cute when women's palms seem so small against his background.

You can admire this endlessly or until the moment when Leon silently, with obvious anxiety in his eyes, in horror, hands you a velvet box, waiting for a reaction.

For God's sake, say something, but don't be silent!

"Is that what I'm thinking or am I wrong?" - You open the lid looking at a charming ring matched to your finger size. And despite the fatigue of the gyrus, they understand that this is an unusual gift.

This is a marriage proposal!

"If you're not ready… fuck… I remember you told me that one day you would want to start a family, and I'm actually the worst option as a husband who is often not at home, although I try, sweetheart…"

"Do you want to start a family with me?" - In his opinion, you looked at him like he was crazy. But in fact, you were trembling slightly and were ready to lose consciousness if he answered in the affirmative now.

"I understand that it's probably too early for you. Understand, I'm not saying that if you agree now, then we will immediately go to the bedroom to make a mini Kennedy. You still have to go to college… damn it, how difficult it is… It's just a suggestion. I want you to be with me as my wife, I want at least one child from you, if you don't mind. You know, Hannigan told me a little bit about these programs to protect the families of agents… they're not bad."

Leon stumbled over every word, sweating profusely, once again afraid to turn to you. Suddenly you are frozen in horror at what is happening, despite the fact that he is actually calmly trying on an engagement ring, carefully examining the carat. You can't say you didn't like it. But because of your admiration for the new decoration, you practically did not listen to what poor Leon was talking about.

"You know, I'll understand if you've never considered me as a husband."

"It just always seemed to me that you needed a mistress and not a wife. You never said you wanted kids. "

You intertwined your fingers with him to calm him down a little. How grateful he was now for the support provided.

"This is problematic. Because of my job. I love you, but I wouldn't force you to do anything. I'm still a little scared of what I'm saying. Some agents have kids, hell, the B.S.A.A guys quietly start families because they get paid well, but when they die… what's the use of a hero father if he's dead? The choice is yours. If you ever carry my child, then I will do everything so that he lives in a safe world, at least on an island of tranquility without bioweapons and other shit. I may often not be around, but I'm willing to try. I no longer want to lose my happy future with the woman I love because of the bastards who think they are the rulers of the world."

Confusing and at the same time understandable. Leon has conveyed to you his thought, his dream, leaving you the right to choose. He was so afraid to look at you that he was surprised when, instead of fright or horror, he saw the serenity of a real angel holding his hand.

"What do you think?" - He asked, and you giggled merrily.

"I think you should wear a bulletproof vest." - Frank laughter rang through the apartment. And you moved to Leon's lap with the grace of a cat, touching the sensitive skin of his neck with your lips while he held you under his hips. - "I don't want to become a widow, but you'll have to run away from my father's bullets when he starts shooting at you with his hunting rifle."

Leon smiled cheerfully, putting his arm around your waist and forcing you to look at him.

There has not been a single boyfriend of yours who has passed a strict paternal check regarding the future spouse for the only daughter. It was a fucking test that no one could pass because you were still considered a little girl.

"We will resolve this issue. Your father is hardly more terrible than a Tyrant." - of course, you had no idea who it was. - "Can I take your answer as an agreement to become Mrs. Kennedy?"

"Perhaps." - You hung on his neck, admiring the two blue pools, and touched his lips with your feather-light kiss. - "But that means we won't have a big wedding, right? Like it's dangerous, I'm a big government agent about whose personal life no one should know, even the president himself. - You merrily parodied the timbre of his voice, realizing how ridiculous it turned out, but you both liked it."

"Yeah"

He was so vulnerable stroking your thighs. The realization that he can't give you what you want…Leon felt a stone of guilt fall on his shoulders, crushing him painfully. All he needs is for you to be happy and then he will be too.

"Well, it's not scary at all!" - You still continued to wrap your arms around his tense body. - "But you didn't just ask me about the honeymoon, did you?"

"This is what I can give you. I am not sure that it will last a whole month, but we will take everything from it."

All the light from the lungs seemed to have disappeared. Your joyful face can bring a dead man back to life! And Leon really came to life feeling like shit a little less.

"However, if you have deprived me of a bachelorette party with sexy strippers and a wedding cake - although no, we will order it anyway - I reserve the right to choose the place of our vacation on my own!"

"Anywhere angel. Even to a remote village in Spain"

Your eyes sparkled cunningly foreshadowing an exciting journey. Leon needs to listen more carefully from now on about your new hobbies.

______________________________________________________________

Claire laughed out loud as she turned over the card, on which Leon's handwriting had written one:

"When I agreed to a honeymoon in Peru, I did not think that I would spend hours looking at the Maya and the Inca skulls! Marital duty is not a soft bed in an expensive hotel, but a trip in the style of Lara Croft and Indiana Jones!

P.S while I'm writing this, I have to keep an eye on my wife so she doesn't break her neck climbing the fucking pyramid."

#leon kennedy #leon scott kennedy #leon kennedy x you #leon s kennedy #leon x reader #leon kennedy x reader #leon s kennedy x reader #resident evil #resident evil x reader #reader