narcissuspetal

[narcissuspetal]

THE STRANGEST OF PLACES MASTERLIST

draco x fem!ravenclaw reader / postwar au series

“We start to find comfort in the strangest of places.”

The war has ended, and life is getting back to normal, or least supposed to be. For returning half-blood Ravenclaw Y/N Y/L/N, her only focus is to finally have a year without fear and uncertainty, until professor Slughorn asks her the question the rest of the room is dreading: “I trust you will be Mr Malfoy’s partner?”

Draco Malfoy returns to Hogwarts the same as any other past seventh year student. He wants to complete his education and ensure himself a good future, one better than his previous years, but there is one slight problem: he’s Draco Malfoy. For his family’s involvement in the war, Draco attends school feeling alienated and resented, spending most of his time alone and suffering his guilt in silence. When Y/N starts coming over to the manor, they begin a rocky work relationship, and often argue

After a small but grand gesture, they decided to become friends. Neither of them realise, however, it was about to get a whole lot more complicated than that.

Keep reading

[narcissuspetal]

A/N: I’ve been meaning to write this for so long. If you’re in the mood for some angst, you’re in the right place!

Words: 1743 Warnings: angst, poisoning

You didn’t know what hurt more. Was it the fact that the man—god—you had fallen for was on the brink of death, taking his last breaths? Or was it the very circumstance that no one but you cared?

Tony Stark had been very clear about it. He tolerated Loki only per Thor’s humble request. The God of Thunder himself was less than pleased that the Trickster was to serve his sentence on Earth of all places. It was Odin’s magic that restricted him, keeping him from causing even more mayhem after the chaos he unleashed in New York City.

They were even less delighted about him joining their self-proclaimed superhero group on missions even though Thor himself claimed that Loki’s wit and skills could prove useful.

You had nothing to say in the matter of course. If anything, you were declared crazy because you had expressed your affinity for the God of Mischief and that included Loki himself.

You couldn’t help it. The way he smirked, the way he talked, the way he sat in the corner buried in a book—one of the very few instances you ever saw him relaxed, not to mention the occurrence with the cat… oh, the cat. A stray—black and white, young, purring and dancing around Loki’s feet, desperate for his attention. And when he’d bent down to pet it and even conjured some food for it, it was the last piece of evidence you had needed to conclude that this man was not evil. Misguided, betrayed, hurt? Yes, all of those things and more. But not evil.

It was the latter. The very circumstance that no one but you cared hurt more.

Thor had left for Asgard already, seeking the advice of their healers. It was ridiculous, truly. In a life-threatening emergency like this, how could his banishment still hold any weight? He needed help.

Your enemy had been thorough, researching each and everyone’s greatest weakness. And Loki’s had proved the most fatal. Whatever the extra-terrestrial had coated their weapon in before it fired its arrow at the God of Mischief, it prevented him from healing, had him break out in a sweat and slowly lose a battle against the poison now spreading in his body.

“Loki? Can you hear me? Please stay with me. You got to stay awake, alright?” He was on the sofa, with his head placed in your lap. You stroked his forehead in an attempt to soothe him. Blue eyes found yours and you were unsure whether he wanted to tell you to stay with him or let him die in peace. You’d been singing to him too. Trying to keep him in the present, in the now.

By the time Thor finally burst back into the room, Loki’s breathing had become dangerously shallow.

“Did you tell them about the symptoms? What did they say? What’s wrong with him? How are we gonna heal him?” The questions gushed out of you like a waterfall before he’d even set his hammer down.

Thor, however, grew silent for a moment. “There… Loki was poisoned. The rat knew what he was doing. The arrow was likely infused with blood from a Memphis of Muspelheim mixed with a deadly dose of mistletoe essence.”

You put one and one together immediately. “So… you’re saying this poison was specifically made to kill a Frost Giant?”

Thor looked down. “Yes.”

“Well, did you bring the antidote then?”

“There… there is no antidote. Not on Asgard. And I fear… there is no time to search the realms. The Jötuns have spent millennia destroying every last drop of this poison. There is hardly any antidote left.”

Your heart sank. No… no! You were not going to let Loki die!

“There has to be a way. Somewhere we can…” Your lips parted. “There is somebody. Someone who has everything. You mentioned him before, you said you brought the Aether to him!”

“The Collector?”

“He has it. He must have it.”

“What, and you think he will give it to you without anything in return?” Tony said.

“I didn’t say that. I’m sure we can offer him something in return to make it worth his while.” You turned back to Thor. “Heimdall can take us there. Please, Thor. This might be our only chance.”

Perhaps you should have been surprised that the God of Thunder relented. There was no doubt he too wanted his brother to survive. The entire time you’d been preparing to leave, Thor was brooding and lost in thought. He wasn’t one for big words—but he cared and for the moment, that was good enough for you.

The Collector’s place was dimly lit, eerily quiet and… it smelled awful. You took a deep breath regardless and gave a nod to Thor to venture forth.

“An Asgardian. And… a human?” The Collector tilted his head when you stepped into view. “What an… honour. What brings you to my humble domain?”

“We need your help. We’re looking for something rare. Thor’s brother Loki is Jötun and he’s been shot with an arrow drenched in a rare poison.”

“Hmm… yes, I’m familiar.”

“There is no antidote. If… if anyone has any left, it must be you.”

“So it must be… I do indeed have this antidote you speak of.” Your face lit up but judging by the Collector’s body language—a smug and repulsive expression, truly—he was not going to give it up easily.

“Surely, your Asgardian friend has told you of how the Jötuns have ensured every last drop of this poison gets destroyed. There was a need for an antidote no longer. The bottle that I have in my collection is… an antique, almost.”

“Fine,” you spat. “What do you want in return?”

“You see… I’ve never had a human in my collection.”

Your eyes widened, lips parting to respond.

“No!” Thor roared.

“Then I am afraid we have reached a dead end.”

“She’s not an object to be collected, she’s a person!”

“Thor!” Gnashing your teeth, you turned to him and took a deep breath. “It’s fine. Just take the antidote to Loki, alright?”

“No. There has to be another way.”

“Take the damn antidote to him, Thor!”

“I cannot let you do this.”

“You can and you will. He’s your brother, Thor! And I’m…” I’m in love with him. Heavens, was that stupid? Loki didn’t even know. It was absurd, wasn’t it? To sacrifice your own life in this way to see the God of Mischief live another day?

Yes. It was. But it… it felt like the right thing to do. Loki deserved another shot. A chance to redeem himself, to show the world that he was more than he let on. And a chance to have the damn world apologise to him, too.

“Tell him… tell him to live his best life, okay? Tell him… tell him not to be too harsh on himself. To… to love himself.”

“To love himself?” Thor frowned.

“Shut up and listen. Loki hates himself, don’t you see that? He hates what he is, he hates what he’s become. He hates himself. And you all played a part in that.”

“Why would you do this… for him?”

Your lips parted. “Tell him… tell him I fell for him.” There. You’d said it. But it didn’t matter anymore whether he’d reject you, right? You’d be here, wherever here was and Loki would be back on Earth, recovering. You’d never have to face his reaction after your confession and yet, he could live with the knowledge that he was not, in fact, so terrible, that no one could love him beyond a family bond like the one he shared with Thor.

“I… fine. I will. Mark my words, I will come back for you,” he added quietly.

You nodded. Was there hope? Possibly. Possibly not. But you did not doubt for a second that your sacrifice was worth it.

You didn’t know how many days had gone by since Thor’s departure. One? Three? Ten? There was no sunlight in this place, no clocks. One of the Collector’s lackeys made sure to feed you regularly at least, other than that… you were on your own, caged in a pretty glass box until he figured out what to do with you. Unless of course… he was just going to keep you on display like this like the maniac he was.

If you didn’t know better, you would have asked him for a book. Surely he had some in his collection. It was boredom and solitude that would drive you mad sooner or later, that much you were sure of.

Every sound nearby became more interesting than the next. The cracking of the metal tiles, the flapping of wings of the caged bird opposite your own stupid box, the ruffling of clothing whenever you moved… a massive explosion forcing everything in its vicinity several feet into the air. Wait, what?

Your eyes widened and you stood. Were you under attack? Oh heavens, no, you didn’t want to be killed inside of a glass box! Would there be another explosion? What if the cage broke and you bled to death because of the shards piercing your body?

Chaos erupted, yet the Collector was nowhere to be seen. A scream escaped your lips when with a start, a figure appeared right before your cage, remnants of green shimmering light enveloping them whole. It took you a moment to realise that it was Loki.

“My… that is quite the predicament you have landed yourself in, pet.”

“I… w-what? Loki… you’re alive, you’re fine. What are you doing here?” Unable to process what was happening, you inched back when the God of Mischief broke the lock and opened the cage for you to climb out. Electricity rippled through you when he took your hand in his.

“Rescuing you, of course.” His sly smirk had you gasping for air as you leaned against him. Your knees and legs hurt from having to sit for so long.

“Thor told me what you did.”

“Did he also tell you…”

Loki nodded. Without another word, he leaned forward and stole a chaste kiss, leaving you breathless and wanting more.

“Come. The others are waiting on the ship. And then, my dear, I shall show you the proper Asgardian way of courting a woman.”

You smiled, relief flooding your entire body as he picked you up and carried you home.

[narcissuspetal]

hi! i’d like to request a loki x fem!reader

can you base it on “we can’t be friends” by ariana grande. something related to the music video in the sense that reader tries to erase her memory in order to “heal” after Loki turns into the god of stories and she is practically alone now. sorry its not angsty i can’t help myself 😩

hope this is okay! thanks queen

MEMORIES

⤷ LOKY LAUFEYSON

ᯓ★ Pairing: Loki Laufeyson x fem!reader

ᯓ★ Genre: romance, angst, like a lot of angst

ᯓ★ Requests status: open

ᯓ★ Story type: one shot

ᯓ★ Summary: You thought Loki was your forever, the man with who you'd spend the resto of your life with, but he becomes the God of Stories you are left with nothing but memories of him, maybe you should get rid of those too.

ᯓ★ Word count: 8k

ᯓ★ TW(s): hinted depression, sleeping a lot to stay in the dreams and not eating because of this so weight loss

ᯓ★ Okay so, I need to tell you all the truth...I haven't watched Loki...But!! I've started it and I'm currently on episode 2, truth is me and tv series don't really go hand in hand so I don't know if I'll actually finish it. But to write this fanfic I tried to get as much information as I could and I hope you like it!

ᯓ★ My Masterlist

ᯓ★ MARVEL Holiday Special

ᯓ★ MARVEL Multiverse - choose an AU, pair it with your favorite character and make a request!

ᯓ★ Songs & Superheroes tales - The Game (to make a request, follow the rules on the link!)

ᯓ★ MARVEL Bingo

ᯓ★ English isn’t my first language

The air is cool, tinged with the earthy scent of rain that had fallen just hours before, leaving the world fresh, like a new beginning. You sit on the balcony of your apartment, your legs tucked under you as you sip your coffee. The city below hums with the soft buzz of life, but up here, it's quiet. Just you and him.

Loki’s presence is a constant now. At first, it was a dangerous thrill — the God of Mischief, the trickster, the god of lies and chaos. But over time, you had come to know the man behind the myths, the one who spent far too many sleepless nights overthinking, doubting, and regretting. The one who, despite his flaws and his ever-conflicted nature, had let you in.

You can feel his gaze on you, even before you turn to face him. He's perched at the edge of the balcony, the golden light from the setting sun casting soft shadows on his face. His dark hair is tousled from the wind, and he’s watching you with that look — the one that makes you feel as though you’re the only thing in the universe that matters.

You smile, the warmth in your chest a stark contrast to the cool evening breeze. “What?”

He doesn’t answer at first. Instead, Loki steps closer, the air shifting around him in subtle, magical currents. He always has this way of bending the world to his whims. But right now, he’s just… himself. Not a god. Not a villain. Just Loki.

“Nothing,” he says, voice low, almost like a secret. “You just look… peaceful.”

You blink, surprised. Peaceful isn’t a word you’d ever associate with yourself, but you can’t help the way it feels with him beside you. It’s like the world is calm — for once, there’s no grand scheme or looming threat. Just him. And you.

“You’re the one who always looks so intense,” you tease, nudging him lightly with your elbow. “Like you’re plotting world domination.”

Loki’s eyes flicker with mischief, but there’s something softer in the way he regards you, something tender. “I don’t plot world domination. Not all the time.” He shrugs, as if the matter is trivial.

You laugh, but there’s a quiet moment between you, an unspoken understanding. You know what he means. Loki has always carried the weight of the world on his shoulders. The responsibility of his past, the expectations of his future. And yet, when it’s just the two of you, he lets it slip away.

You let your coffee rest on the railing and, without a word, turn to face him fully. Loki’s smile, small but genuine, tugs at something in your chest. You take a step closer to him, the distance between you shrinking as you reach out, your hand brushing against his.

It’s always like this, these quiet moments — when words are no longer necessary. His hand envelops yours effortlessly, and it’s like the universe settles into place. This is the calm you didn’t know you needed, the simple comfort of being in each other’s space.

“Do you ever think about the future?” you ask, your voice hesitant, unsure if you’re ready for the answer.

He watches you carefully, as if weighing your words. There’s a flicker of uncertainty in his gaze, a crack in the façade of the god you’re so used to. He tilts his head, his fingers gently tracing the back of your hand.

“Of course, I think about it,” he admits softly. “But I’ve spent so many lifetimes running from it, from the choices that will define me. The future… It’s complicated.”

You can hear the hesitation in his voice, the way he never fully commits to what’s ahead. Loki is a god of chaos, after all. He’s never been good with stability, with the idea of permanence. His eyes search yours, as though trying to read your mind.

“And you?” he asks, his voice almost a whisper.

You swallow, a lump forming in your throat. “I think about it too, but… I don’t know. The future feels like a blurry mess sometimes.”

He steps closer, his thumb brushing against your wrist in a soothing motion. “Whatever happens, we’ll face it together.”

There’s a sincerity in his words that takes you by surprise. Loki, the god who’d always kept everyone at arm’s length, including his own family, is now standing before you, offering his loyalty in a way that feels… real. No tricks, no games, just the promise of something honest.

“Together,” you repeat softly, the word tasting different on your lips when it comes from him.

His eyes flicker to the horizon, as though he’s considering something, before he looks back at you with a soft chuckle. “And if the future is full of chaos, we’ll make it our own chaos.”

You laugh, but there’s something in your chest that tightens at the thought of a future with Loki — with all that he represents, with all the uncertainty and danger that follow him like a dark cloud. But in this moment, you push it aside. There’s no room for fear when he’s beside you.

Loki takes your hand and leads you toward the edge of the balcony, his fingers never leaving yours. “Come,” he says, his voice low and gentle. “Let’s watch the sunset. Together.”

As you sit side by side, the sun dips below the horizon, painting the sky in warm shades of pink and gold. The world around you may be shifting, always changing, but here, in this moment, everything feels still. The weight of time feels distant. The future feels like a far-off dream that you can’t quite touch.

You rest your head against his shoulder, the soft sound of his breath steadying your own. Loki shifts slightly, his hand coming to rest on your back in an almost protective gesture. The quiet between you stretches, neither of you needing to speak.

For a moment, everything is perfect. The world, the chaos, the future — it all fades into the background, and all that remains is the calm. The love.

But deep down, you can’t ignore the feeling that this peace is fragile. Like glass, it’s delicate, and even though you’re holding onto it, you wonder how long it can last.

That peace doesn’t last forever.

The memory of that moment — the quiet between you, the warmth of his hand in yours — is the last thing you want to hold on to.

After everything has crumbled, after everything has changed, you find yourself sitting in a quiet, empty room, staring at the walls. The apartment feels hollow now, the silence too loud. The city outside moves on, unaware of the storm raging inside you.

It wasn’t supposed to end like this.

But Loki had become the God of Stories, and with that title came unimaginable power. The ability to rewrite fate itself, to shape reality, to weave his own narrative — and in the process, he’d lost himself. Or maybe it was you who had lost him. Maybe you were the one who didn’t fit into his new story.

You can still hear his voice in your mind, soft and warm, whispering that you would face the future together. But how could you face the future with him now? How could you stand by his side when he was no longer the Loki you knew?

It’s a bitter thought. One that claws at your chest. And the worst part is — you still love him. Even after everything. Even after the gods, after the chaos, after the mistakes, you still want him.

But it’s too much. The memories are too vivid, too painful. You can’t bear to remember him — not when every time you close your eyes, you see his face, and it’s like a stab to your heart.

You’ve made up your mind.

You’ll erase it all. Every memory of him.

The love. The pain. The warmth.

You’re not sure how, but you’ll do it. Because if you don’t, you’ll never move on. You’ll never be free.

The box feels heavier than it should as you lower it to the floor, your knees protesting the motion. A single lamp casts its warm glow across your apartment, but the light feels muted, swallowed by the shadows pressing in from every corner. It’s late, and the city outside seems quieter than usual, as if the world knows the significance of what you’re about to do.

Loki’s things are scattered around you in a mess of memories. A black scarf you once teased him about for being far too dramatic, a small leather-bound notebook filled with strange symbols and half-formed ideas, a gold trinket he’d magicked into existence one lazy afternoon to make you laugh. Each item holds a piece of him, of you, of you and him.

Your breath catches as you sit back on your heels, staring at the pile with a sinking feeling in your chest. It’s almost funny. You thought gathering his belongings would make it easier, like pulling off a bandage quickly to avoid the sting. But it’s worse. So much worse.

Your fingers tremble as they brush over the scarf. You remember the first time he wore it — the way it swept dramatically over his shoulder as he smirked at your teasing.

“Trying to impress me, Mischief?” you’d asked, a playful lilt to your voice.

Loki had leaned closer, that familiar spark of mischief lighting his green eyes. “Is it working?”

You’d laughed, shoving him lightly, but your heart had skipped a beat all the same. He had a way of doing that — making the smallest, most mundane moments feel like they belonged in an epic tale.

You shake your head, pulling yourself back to the present. The memory is too vivid, too sharp, and it slices through you like glass. That was before everything changed. Before he became something… unreachable.

Your fingers curl around the scarf, tightening as the memory threatens to drag you under. For a moment, you consider keeping it. Just this one thing. But no. You can’t. If you start keeping pieces of him, you’ll never let go.

You toss the scarf into the box, the action more forceful than you intended. It lands atop the notebook, the trinket, and the small collection of Loki’s things that have woven themselves into your life.

The notebook catches your eye again, and before you can stop yourself, you’re flipping it open. The pages are filled with Loki’s handwriting — sharp and elegant, like the man himself. Most of it is incomprehensible to you, written in Asgardian runes or some ancient language you don’t recognize. But on one page, near the middle, you find something familiar.

It’s your name.

Your breath hitches as you stare at the word, the letters carved into the page with a deliberate hand. Beneath it, a single line in English:

"You are my home."

The tears come then, hot and relentless, streaming down your cheeks before you can stop them. You clutch the notebook to your chest, your body shaking as the weight of it all crashes over you. He said those words to you once, late at night, when the world had felt quiet and safe.

You remember lying in bed together, his arm draped lazily over your waist, his voice a soft murmur against your ear. “You are my home,” he’d said, the words carrying a vulnerability he rarely allowed himself to show. “In all the realms, in all the chaos, I find my peace in you.”

And you had believed him. God, you’d believed him.

The notebook slips from your hands as you bury your face in your palms, sobs wracking your body. You’d thought you were strong enough to do this, to let him go, but the memories won’t stop. They cling to you like shadows, refusing to release their grip.

It’s not fair. He had no right to carve himself into your soul like this, to leave behind pieces of himself in every corner of your life. How are you supposed to erase someone who’s become a part of you?

You sit there for what feels like hours, the box of Loki’s things staring back at you like a silent witness to your unraveling. Eventually, the tears subside, leaving you hollow and exhausted. Your eyes sting, and your throat feels raw, but you force yourself to move.

Gathering the box, you rise to your feet, your legs unsteady. The plan is simple: take it to the small clearing behind the building, set it ablaze, and watch the memories burn. Maybe then the pain will ease. Maybe then you’ll finally be free.

You step outside, the cool night air biting against your skin. The clearing is quiet, save for the distant hum of the city. You place the box in the center, your fingers brushing over the edges one last time.

You light the match.

The flame flickers to life, small and fragile in your hand. You hesitate, the weight of the moment pressing down on you. This is it. This is the final goodbye.

But as you stare at the flame, something inside you cracks. You think of the sunsets you watched together, the way he’d tuck your hair behind your ear when he thought you weren’t paying attention, the soft, unguarded moments that made you fall in love with him in the first place.

Can you really do this?

Your hand shakes as you lower the match, the flame dancing dangerously close to the edge of the box. The scent of sulfur fills the air, and for a moment, you think you’ll go through with it. You’ll let it all burn.

But then, the match falls from your fingers, the flame snuffing out as it hits the damp grass.

You drop to your knees, the box still untouched, your chest heaving with uneven breaths. You can’t do it. You can’t erase him, no matter how much it hurts to remember. Because the memories aren’t just painful. They’re beautiful, too.

And maybe that’s the cruelest part of all.

The bar is crowded, the kind of loud and bustling place you would never have chosen for yourself, but your friends insisted. “You need to get out,” they had said. “Meet people. Forget about him.”

Forget about him.

As if it were that simple.

You sit at a small, high table near the back, a drink cradled in your hand. The music pulses through the air, the bass thrumming in your chest, but it does nothing to drown out the thoughts that swirl endlessly in your mind. Around you, your friends laugh and chatter, their voices a blur of encouragement and reassurances.

It’s been months since Loki left — or, more accurately, since he became something else, someone you could no longer reach. Months since you tried to burn his things and failed, the box now tucked away in the corner of your closet like a secret you can’t bear to part with.

And yet, even with all the time and distance, the memories still haunt you. He’s still there, in the quiet moments, in the back of your mind, a shadow you can’t escape.

A new drink appears in front of you, courtesy of one of your friends. “He’s cute, isn’t he?” she whispers, nudging you with her elbow. You glance toward the bar, where a man stands with a confident smile and sharp cheekbones. He’s attractive, you suppose. Objectively. But as your gaze lingers, the comparisons begin, unbidden and unstoppable.

His hair isn’t as dark as Loki’s. His eyes aren’t as piercing. And when he smiles, it doesn’t make your chest tighten the way Loki’s did when he let his walls down and gave you that rare, genuine look that was only for you.

“Go talk to him,” your friend urges, her tone light and encouraging. You hesitate, but the expectant looks from the rest of your group leave you feeling cornered. With a reluctant sigh, you slide off your stool and make your way toward the bar.

The man notices you immediately, his smile widening as you approach. He introduces himself — James, or Jake, or something that doesn’t stick in your memory. You force a polite smile, nodding as he talks about his job, his hobbies, his plans for the weekend.

But you’re not really listening.

Instead, you’re thinking about how different he is. Loki’s voice had a way of wrapping around you, rich and velvety, with an edge that hinted at mischief or danger. His words weren’t just conversations; they were an invitation to step into his world, to see the universe through his eyes.

This man — James, Jake, whoever — is ordinary. Normal. And maybe that’s what you’re supposed to want now, but it feels hollow.

He says something that makes you chuckle politely, and for a moment, you catch yourself wondering what Loki would think if he saw you now. Would he be amused, watching you try to piece yourself back together with someone so utterly unremarkable? Or would he feel that flicker of jealousy, the possessiveness he always tried to hide but never fully could?

The thought twists something in your chest, and you excuse yourself quickly, claiming you need to get back to your friends.

“Not your type?” one of them teases when you return, her grin playful.

“No,” you say simply, sipping your drink. But the truth is more complicated than that. It’s not that he wasn’t your type. It’s that he wasn’t Loki.

The pattern repeats itself over the following weeks.

Your friends take you to new places, introduce you to new people, all with the hope that one of them will spark something in you. And each time, it ends the same way.

You meet someone kind, someone charming, someone your friends swear would be perfect for you. And each time, you find yourself comparing them to him.

No one holds a candle to Loki.

No one has that sharp wit, that clever tongue that made even the most mundane conversations feel electric. No one carries themselves with that effortless grace, the confidence of a god who knows he’s meant for greatness but still chooses to share himself with you. No one looks at you the way Loki did, like you were a puzzle he was desperate to solve, a mystery he could never quite unravel.

And the worst part is, you know it’s unfair. You know these men deserve more than your half-hearted attempts at connection. But no matter how hard you try, you can’t stop measuring them against him.

One evening, your closest friend pulls you aside after another failed attempt at setting you up. “You’re not giving them a chance,” she says gently, her concern evident.

“I am,” you argue, but even as the words leave your mouth, you know they’re not entirely true.

She sighs, placing a comforting hand on your arm. “I know it’s hard. I know you miss him. But you deserve to be happy, too. He’s not coming back, and holding onto him like this… it’s only hurting you.”

Her words cut deeper than you expect, and you find yourself blinking back tears. She’s right, of course. Loki isn’t coming back. The man you loved is gone, and the person he’s become is far beyond your reach.

But how do you let go of someone who’s etched into your soul? How do you move on when every part of you still aches for him?

“I’ll try,” you whisper, though you’re not sure if it’s a promise you can keep.

Your friend nods, giving your arm a reassuring squeeze. “That’s all anyone can ask.”

But as the night goes on, as the world moves around you, you find yourself retreating into your thoughts, into the memories of a man who can never truly be replaced.

And in the quiet corners of your heart, you know the truth: no one will ever compare.

The apartment feels colder than it should, the kind of chill that creeps into your bones and refuses to let go. You sit curled up on the couch, staring at the flickering glow of the television, though you’re not really watching it. The sound is just there to fill the silence, to keep the walls from closing in.

But it doesn’t work. Not really.

Because even in the noise, you can hear his voice.

It starts small, the whispers of his tone weaving into the spaces between your thoughts. At first, you think it’s your imagination. Of course it is. Loki isn’t here. He’s not coming back. You’ve told yourself this a thousand times, clinging to the words like a mantra.

And yet…

The scent of leather and the faint trace of cedar linger in the air. The couch dips slightly beside you, a barely-there weight, but enough to make you glance to your right.

He’s there. Sitting casually with one arm draped over the back of the couch, his long legs crossed, and that infuriatingly familiar smirk playing at his lips.

“Miss me, darling?” he asks, his voice smooth and teasing, as if he hasn’t been gone for months. As if you hadn’t been tearing yourself apart trying to forget him.

Your heart lurches, and for a moment, you let yourself believe it’s real. You can’t help it. The sight of him is so vivid, so perfect. The sharp angle of his jaw, the glint of mischief in his green eyes — it’s exactly how you remember.

“Loki…” The name slips from your lips before you can stop it, a mixture of disbelief and yearning.

He tilts his head, his expression softening. “Yes, my love?”

The words hit you like a wave, the tenderness in his tone unraveling you completely. Your vision blurs with tears, and you reach out, your hand trembling as it moves toward him. But the moment your fingers brush the air where his hand should be, the illusion shatters.

He’s gone.

The couch is empty. The room is still. The silence is deafening.

You pull your hand back slowly, your chest heaving as you struggle to catch your breath. “No,” you whisper to yourself, shaking your head. “No, no, no.”

Your voice breaks, the sound foreign to your ears. You clutch at the blanket draped over your lap, holding it tightly as if it could anchor you to reality. But it doesn’t. Nothing does.

“Why are you doing this to me?” you murmur into the empty room, your voice raw with anger and grief. “Why can’t I let you go?”

There’s no answer, of course. Just the echo of your own voice bouncing off the walls. But that doesn’t stop you from talking. It’s becoming a habit now, these conversations with no one.

Some nights, you sit at the dining table, setting out two glasses of wine even though you know the second will remain untouched. You’ll tell stories about your day, laughing softly at jokes that only you can hear. You’ll look toward the chair opposite you, expecting to see him lounging there, his sharp wit ready to match yours.

And some nights, like tonight, you’ll sit on the couch and swear you can feel him beside you.

“Loki,” you whisper again, the name tasting like salt on your tongue. “Why did you leave me?”

The apartment remains silent, but in your mind, you can hear his response. You can hear him apologizing, explaining that it wasn’t his choice, that becoming the God of Stories meant giving up everything he loved.

But it’s a lie. A lie you tell yourself to make the ache in your chest bearable. Because deep down, you know the truth: he could have stayed. He could have chosen you.

And yet, he didn’t.

The illusions get worse as the weeks pass.

At first, they’re fleeting — a glimpse of him out of the corner of your eye, a phantom touch brushing against your shoulder. But soon, they’re more vivid. More real.

You’ll hear his voice calling your name, soft and intimate, like he’s standing right behind you. You’ll turn around, your heart leaping with hope, only to find nothing but empty air.

And then there are the nights when you swear you feel his arms around you, holding you close as you drift off to sleep. Those nights are the worst, because when you wake up, the loneliness is suffocating.

Your friends notice the change in you, though you try to hide it. They don’t understand. How could they? They never knew him the way you did. They never loved him the way you do.

“You’re spiraling,” one of them says gently, her voice laced with concern. “You need help, Y/N. This… this isn’t normal.”

You nod, pretending to agree, but you don’t believe her. How could you need help when the only thing keeping you sane is the thought of him? When the illusions are the only moments you feel whole again?

One evening, you sit on the floor of your living room, surrounded by the box of Loki’s things you couldn’t bring yourself to burn. You pull out the scarf, holding it close to your chest as tears spill down your cheeks.

“I can’t do this without you,” you whisper into the fabric, your voice shaking. “I don’t know how.”

The room feels colder than ever, but as you close your eyes, you imagine his warmth enveloping you. You imagine him kneeling beside you, his hand brushing your hair back as he murmurs reassurances in that velvety voice.

But when you open your eyes, you’re still alone. And the scarf in your hands feels unbearably heavy.

You clutch it tighter, rocking slightly as the weight of your grief crashes over you. The world outside continues on, indifferent to your pain, but in this moment, all you can feel is the absence of him.

It’s a pain that no one else can understand, a loss that no one else can ease. And as the illusions pull you deeper into their grasp, you can’t help but wonder if letting go of him is even possible — or if you’re destined to carry this ache forever.

The dream begins the same way every time.

You’re standing in a golden field, the tall grass swaying gently in a breeze that carries the faintest scent of lavender. The sky above is painted in soft hues of orange and pink, a perpetual sunset that feels both warm and surreal. And there he is, waiting for you.

Loki.

He’s standing a few paces away, his silhouette sharp against the dreamy backdrop. His dark hair is tousled just so, and when he sees you, that familiar, crooked smile lights up his face. He opens his arms, and you run to him, your heart soaring in a way it hasn’t in what feels like forever.

In your dreams, there are no goodbyes, no insurmountable barriers. Here, you are just two people who love each other, untouched by the weight of reality.

“Missed me, darling?” he asks, his voice teasing yet warm as he pulls you into his arms.

“Always,” you murmur, burying your face in his chest. His scent surrounds you — leather and cedar, with a hint of something uniquely him. It’s intoxicating, grounding, and you never want to let go.

The dreams are your sanctuary, the only place where the ache in your chest quiets, where you feel whole again. You wake up every morning wishing you could stay there forever. And slowly, without realizing it, you begin to chase that feeling.

At first, it’s subtle. You let yourself sleep a little longer each morning, lingering in bed even as the sunlight streams through your window. Then you start skipping plans with your friends, feigning exhaustion or sickness so you can curl back under the covers.

The more time you spend in your dreams, the less you care about the waking world. Food becomes an afterthought, meals skipped in favor of lying in bed, hoping to drift off again. Even your appearance begins to change — your cheeks hollowing, your skin growing pale. But you hardly notice. All that matters is Loki.

Your friends notice the change in you long before you do.

“You’ve barely eaten,” one of them points out during a rare outing, her eyes scanning your face with obvious concern. “You’re so thin, Y/N. Are you okay?”

“I’m fine,” you reply automatically, forcing a smile. But your voice lacks conviction, and you can tell she doesn’t believe you.

“You don’t look fine.” Her tone softens, but there’s a firmness beneath it. “We’re worried about you. You’ve been isolating yourself, skipping meals, avoiding everyone…”

“I’m just tired,” you say, cutting her off. “That’s all.”

The words hang in the air, heavy with unspoken truths. You can see the worry etched into her features, but you’re too far gone to care. You’re tired of the concern, the pity, the endless attempts to pull you out of the darkness when all you want is to stay there, wrapped in the illusion of Loki’s presence.

One night, your friend shows up at your apartment unannounced. The moment she steps inside, she freezes, her eyes widening as she takes in the state of the place.

It’s a mess. Dishes piled in the sink, unopened mail scattered across the counter, curtains drawn tightly to keep out the daylight. And there you are, curled up on the couch in a hoodie that hangs off your frame, your eyes hollow and distant.

“Y/N,” she breathes, her voice breaking.

You barely look at her, your gaze fixed on the floor.

She sits down beside you, reaching for your hand. “You’re not okay,” she says, her voice trembling. “Please, let us help you.”

“I don’t need help,” you whisper, but even as you say it, tears spill down your cheeks.

“Yes, you do,” she insists, squeezing your hand. “You’ve been shutting us out, and it’s killing you. You’re wasting away, Y/N. I don’t know what’s going on, but you don’t have to face it alone.”

Her words pierce through the fog in your mind, and for a moment, you consider telling her the truth. Telling her about the dreams, about Loki, about the impossible grief that has consumed you. But the thought of saying it out loud feels like admitting he’s truly gone.

“I just need to sleep,” you say instead, pulling your hand away.

Her eyes fill with tears, but she doesn’t press you further. She stands, her shoulders slumping in defeat. “I can’t force you to let us in,” she says softly. “But I’m not giving up on you.”

After she leaves, you crawl back into bed, pulling the covers over your head. The dreams are waiting for you, and that’s all that matters.

But even the dreams begin to shift.

The golden fields grow dimmer, the sunsets less vibrant. Loki’s voice, once so warm and reassuring, takes on a melancholy edge. He holds you close, but there’s a sadness in his eyes that wasn’t there before.

“Why are you doing this to yourself?” he asks one night, his voice soft but filled with anguish.

“What do you mean?” you reply, confused.

“You’re losing yourself,” he says, his hands cradling your face. “This isn’t what I wanted for you.”

Tears stream down your cheeks as you shake your head. “I don’t care,” you whisper. “I just want to be with you.”

Loki’s expression breaks, his own tears shimmering in his eyes. “But at what cost, my love? You’re fading away.”

The dream dissolves into darkness, leaving you gasping as you wake up. For the first time, the comfort of sleep feels like a betrayal, a reminder of how deeply you’ve sunk into the illusion.

And yet, the waking world offers no solace. You lie in bed, staring at the ceiling, your heart aching with the weight of it all.

Because no matter where you are — asleep or awake — the pain remains. And you don’t know how to escape it.

It’s late afternoon when your friend arrives at your apartment, a determined look on her face as she steps inside. She doesn’t bother to hide her shock at the state of you. You’re sitting on the couch, knees pulled to your chest, staring blankly at the television. Your hoodie hangs loosely on your frail frame, and your skin is pale, almost translucent under the dim lighting.

“Y/N,” she begins, closing the door behind her and walking toward you. There’s no judgment in her tone, only a desperate kind of concern. “I’ve been doing some research… and I think I found something that could help.”

You glance at her, your expression unreadable. “Help?”

“Yes.” She sits down beside you, her movements careful, as though she’s afraid you might shatter. “It’s… unconventional, but it’s worth considering.”

From her bag, she pulls out a pamphlet and places it on the coffee table. The bold lettering on the front reads: The Haven Institute: A New Beginning.

You eye it warily, your stomach twisting with unease. “What is this?”

She hesitates, then takes a deep breath. “It’s a clinic. They specialize in memory modification. They… they can help you forget him.”

The words hit you like a punch to the gut, and for a moment, you can’t breathe. Forget him? The idea is so foreign, so unimaginable, that it feels like an affront to everything you’ve been holding onto.

“No,” you say quickly, your voice trembling. “Absolutely not.”

“Y/N, please just listen—”

“No!” You push yourself up from the couch, pacing the room with frantic energy. “I can’t. I won’t. He’s all I have left. If I forget him, then what? What’s left of me?”

Tears fill your friend’s eyes, but she doesn’t back down. “What’s left of you now?” she asks softly, her voice breaking. “Look at yourself, Y/N. You’re not living. You’re barely surviving. This… this isn’t what he would want for you.”

Her words strike a chord, but you shake your head, unwilling to let them sink in.

“I can’t,” you whisper, your voice cracking. “I can’t lose him again.”

That night, you dream of Loki again. But this time, the dream isn’t a golden field or a serene sunset. It’s your apartment, dimly lit and suffocatingly quiet.

He’s sitting across from you, his posture relaxed but his expression serious. There’s a weight to his gaze, a sadness that mirrors your own.

“You know she’s right,” he says, his voice gentle but firm.

You shake your head, tears streaming down your face. “No. Don’t say that. Don’t you dare say that.”

Loki leans forward, his elbows resting on his knees as he studies you. “Do you think this is what I want for you? To see you like this, wasting away, consumed by grief?”

“I’m not wasting away,” you argue, but your voice lacks conviction.

He tilts his head, his expression softening. “Aren’t you? Look at yourself, darling. You’re a shadow of the person I fell in love with. And it’s my fault. I see that now.”

“No,” you choke out, clutching at the fabric of your hoodie. “It’s not your fault. It’s mine. I’m the one who can’t let go.”

“And that’s why you need to let me go,” he says, his voice breaking. “Not because you don’t love me, but because you do. Because holding onto me is killing you.”

You collapse onto the floor, sobbing into your hands as the weight of his words crashes over you. “I don’t know how,” you whisper. “I don’t know how to let you go.”

Loki kneels beside you, his hands cupping your face as he looks into your eyes. “You can,” he says firmly. “You’re stronger than you think. And if erasing me is the only way to save you… then so be it.”

The dream begins to fade, his voice lingering in your mind even as the golden light dissolves into darkness.

You wake up gasping, tears soaking your pillow. The words from your dream replay over and over in your head, like a mantra you can’t escape: You need to let me go.

For the first time, you take a long, hard look at yourself. You walk to the bathroom and flick on the light, wincing at the reflection staring back at you. Your cheeks are hollow, your eyes dull, your once-vibrant presence reduced to a frail shadow.

Your hand trembles as you press it against the mirror, your breath fogging the glass. This isn’t you. This isn’t the person you used to be.

And Loki — whether he’s a dream, an illusion, or a memory too stubborn to fade — is right. You’ve let your grief consume you, and if you don’t do something soon, there won’t be anything left to save.

The next morning, you call your friend.

“I’ll do it,” you say quietly, your voice barely above a whisper. “I’ll go to the clinic.”

There’s a pause on the other end of the line, and when she speaks, her voice is thick with emotion. “Are you sure?”

“No,” you admit. “But I can’t keep living like this.”

Your friend comes over that afternoon, and for the first time in what feels like forever, you let her hold you as you cry. It’s a small step, but it’s a step nonetheless.

The pamphlet sits on the coffee table, a reminder of what’s to come. And as you stare at it, a part of you wonders if this is the right choice — if erasing Loki from your mind will truly set you free, or if it will only leave another kind of emptiness in its place.

But for now, you cling to the hope that it might bring you peace. That maybe you can find a way to start over.

The clinic is sterile, unnervingly clean, and entirely too quiet. The hum of the fluorescent lights overhead sets your teeth on edge as you sit in the waiting area, clutching the scarf in your lap like a lifeline. It still smells faintly of him, though the scent is fading. You know it’s your imagination more than anything else, but you don’t care. It’s all you have left.

The receptionist calls your name, and you stand, legs trembling as you follow her down a long corridor. Your friend is waiting outside in the car, insisting she couldn’t bear to come in. You told her you’d be fine, but now, as the door to the consultation room closes behind you, you’re not so sure.

The doctor is kind, their voice calm and reassuring as they explain the procedure once again. You listen, nodding at the appropriate times, but your mind is elsewhere — lost in the memories you’re about to give up.

“Do you have the belongings?” the doctor asks gently, gesturing to the small box you’ve brought with you.

You nod, setting it on the table with shaking hands. Inside are the remnants of your life with Loki: a book he loved to read aloud from, a pair of cufflinks he’d left on your dresser, and the scarf you’ve been holding onto for dear life.

The doctor notices your grip on the scarf and tilts their head. “You don’t have to let go of everything,” they say, their tone encouraging. “We can modify the memory tied to an object if you’d prefer to keep it.”

You glance down at the soft fabric, your fingers tracing the intricate weave. The thought of losing this piece of him entirely feels unbearable, but the idea of it being tied to him — tied to your grief — is equally suffocating.

“Can you… can you change the memory?” you ask hesitantly. “Make it something else?”

The doctor nods. “Of course. What would you like it to mean?”

You think for a moment, your mind swirling with possibilities. Finally, you settle on something simple, something that feels safe. “A lucky charm,” you say quietly. “It’s a scarf I’ve had for years, and I keep it for good luck.”

The doctor smiles gently. “We can do that.”

Before the procedure, they give you a moment alone to say goodbye — not to the belongings, but to the memories themselves.

You sit on the chair in the dimly lit room, the scarf draped across your lap. The illusion of Loki appears before you, as vivid as ever, his expression unreadable.

“So, this is it,” he says softly, his voice tinged with sadness.

You nod, tears welling in your eyes. “I guess it is.”

Loki steps closer, his gaze searching yours. “Are you sure this is what you want, my love?”

“I don’t want it,” you admit, your voice trembling. “But I need it. I need to move on. And I can’t… not like this.”

He reaches out, his fingers ghosting over your cheek, though you can’t feel his touch. “You’ve always been stronger than you know,” he murmurs. “Stronger than me, even.”

You let out a shaky laugh, fresh tears spilling over. “That’s not true.”

“It is,” he insists, his eyes glinting with that familiar intensity. “And now, you’ll prove it.”

For a moment, neither of you speaks. You simply look at him, memorizing every detail of his face, every nuance of his expression.

“Goodbye, Loki,” you whisper, your voice breaking.

His smile is soft, bittersweet. “Goodbye, my love.”

He fades slowly, the edges of his figure dissolving into the air until there’s nothing left but an empty room.

The doctor guides you into the operating chair, the soft hum of machinery filling the space. They place a device over your temples, adjusting the settings as they explain what to expect. You barely hear them, your mind still caught in the aftershocks of saying goodbye.

“This will be painless,” the doctor says gently. “You may experience flashes of the memories as they’re removed, but it will be quick.”

You nod, gripping the scarf tightly.

The machine begins to whir, and the first memory surfaces.

It’s the night you met him, his sharp wit and charming smile disarming you instantly. You remember the way he looked at you, like you were the only person in the room.

The memory dissolves, and another takes its place.

Loki teaching you magic, his laughter filling the room when you accidentally summon a puff of smoke instead of a flame. “We’ll make a sorceress of you yet,” he had said, pride gleaming in his eyes.

That memory fades, too, replaced by the time he held you under a canopy of stars, his voice a soft murmur as he told you stories of Asgard.

One by one, the memories play out, each one tugging at your heart until it feels like it might break entirely. But you let them go, because you have to.

The last memory is the hardest. It’s the day he left, his hand brushing against yours for the final time. You see the pain in his eyes, the love he couldn’t put into words, and it nearly undoes you.

“Be happy,” he had whispered, his voice cracking. “For both of us.”

As the memory fades, you feel a strange sense of peace. The pain is still there, but it’s muted now, distant.

When the procedure is over, the doctor removes the device and places the scarf in your hands. “It’s done,” they say gently.

You hold the scarf close, feeling its softness against your skin. It’s just a scarf now — a lucky charm, nothing more.

And as you leave the clinic, the weight on your chest feels a little lighter, the world a little brighter.

It’s not a perfect ending, but it’s a new beginning. And for now, that’s enough.

Life after the clinic is quieter, simpler.

You wake up each morning to sunlight streaming through your window, the warmth of it brushing your face. Your days are filled with routines now — a job you’ve rediscovered a passion for, weekend brunches with friends who are no longer burdened with worry over you, and quiet evenings spent reading or listening to music.

On the surface, everything seems fine. You smile more, laugh more. Your friends notice the change and comment on how much better you look. “It’s so good to have you back,” one of them says during a coffee date, her eyes brimming with relief.

You nod, sipping your latte, and try to believe her.

But there’s an ache in your chest that you can’t quite place. A dull, persistent tug that makes itself known when the world grows quiet — when you’re walking home alone in the evening or lying in bed just before sleep takes you. It’s not sharp or overwhelming, just… there. A void you can’t fill, no matter how hard you try.

Your apartment is different now. Cleaner, brighter. The curtains are drawn back to let in the sunlight, and the once-cluttered surfaces are neatly organized. You’ve even picked up a few plants, their green leaves adding life to the space.

And yet, sometimes, when you walk into the living room, you pause, your eyes lingering on the empty chair by the window. For a moment, you feel like something — or someone — should be there. But the thought slips away as quickly as it comes, leaving you puzzled but not overly concerned.

The scarf has become a part of your everyday life. You wear it on days when you need a little extra confidence, its soft fabric a comforting weight around your neck. It’s your lucky charm, though you can’t quite remember where you got it or why it feels so important.

One afternoon, as you’re folding laundry, you find yourself holding the scarf a little longer than necessary. A strange, bittersweet feeling washes over you, like you’re on the verge of remembering something — or someone — just out of reach.

You shake it off, folding the scarf neatly and tucking it away in your drawer.

Dreams come to you occasionally, hazy and fragmented. They’re filled with flashes of green and gold, the sound of laughter you can’t place, and the sensation of strong arms wrapping around you.

You wake from these dreams with a strange mixture of comfort and longing, your heart aching for something — or someone — you can’t name. But the feeling fades as the day goes on, replaced by the mundanity of everyday life.

One evening, as you’re walking home from work, a sudden gust of wind whips through the street, tugging at your scarf. You clutch it tightly, a shiver running down your spine despite the warmth of your coat.

For a brief moment, you feel as though you’re being watched, as though someone is standing just behind you, their presence familiar and reassuring. You turn quickly, your eyes scanning the empty street, but there’s no one there.

You laugh at yourself, shaking your head as you continue walking. But the feeling lingers, a warmth in your chest that stays with you for the rest of the night.

Time passes, and the ache in your heart becomes easier to ignore. You focus on the present, on the life you’ve rebuilt. You’re content, if not entirely happy.

But every now and then, when the world grows quiet, you find yourself staring into the distance, your fingers brushing absentmindedly over the scarf around your neck.

You don’t know what it is you’re searching for.

And maybe you never will.

ah yes, the angst! I love it, I've been crying for the last 2k words lol

[narcissuspetal]

make it taste like love

Loki x Reader

Summary: You felt him before you even met him. And despite the pain he carried around, his soul was one of the most beautiful you'd ever seen.

A/N: A spur-of-the-moment idea that I simply couldn't ignore. I really hope you guys enjoy it, and yes I'm working on part two of my series with Loki as well. <3

Word count: 6k

Masterlist

The battle had left its mark on everyone, both physically and mentally. All the lives that were lost wouldn't be brought back. But everyone took solace in the fact that Thanos and his army were no longer a threat. And now, it was a time for rebuilding.

Wakanda's grassland was a battlefield. Bodies of both friend and foe lay scattered on the ground. The mourning loomed heavy in the air, you could feel it weighing down on your chest, your throat, and lungs. It was suffocating, prickling into your skin like needles. Yet you still walked, your boots crushing the grass underneath while you avoided stepping on stretched arms and legs, you needed to make sure no one else remained left behind.

A few feet away, the mad titan who once threatened the entire universe lay lifeless on the ground, his head disconnected from his body. For him, you felt no pity.

King T'Challa was both happy and sad to see you and the others leave. Happy, because it meant the end of a war; sad, because of having to say farewell to dear friends. But you, Steve, Natasha, and Banner were needed back in town, back at the Avengers compound; to welcome Tony back on earth, and because Thanos' attack had reverberated in many other places. It seemed like the Avengers were back in the game.

─── ·❆· ───

This morning was a gloomy one. Grey skies peeked behind your curtains in the early hours of the day, maybe it would rain soon. It's been two weeks since the battle, and you were glad to see that most people were recovering; each in their own way, but recovering nonetheless.

You were already up when the clock hit 7:30 AM, holding a warm cup of coffee between your hands, and staring out into the compound's driveway and past the treeline through the big windows of the kitchen. Today would be the day that Thor came back, he'd been helping with the settling of his people in New Asgard until now, but you've heard about him not wanting to be king anymore. You were happy for him, you never did think that a ruler's life suited him anyway—and you missed your friend.

"He gets one chance, Rogers. One chance and that's it." Tony's voice suddenly caught your attention as he stepped into the kitchen, you turned your back to the window so you could watch as your resident Iron Man poured himself a cup of coffee without looking at his mug. Steve was right beside him, his hands on his hips as he sighed quietly, already all too used to Tony's moods.

"Yes, one chance, he proved himself enough by helping us fight against Thanos, I suppose we owe him the benefit of the doubt," Steve agreed, still holding his voice calm.

With a smirk on your lips, you approached your teammates. "What's going on, guys?" You leaned on the kitchen island, taking a sip of your coffee.

Tony ran his tongue over his bottom lip, his expression less than pleased as he took a sip of his own coffee before saying; "point break is bringing his beloved brother to our home." He shrugged, and said in a quieter tone, "Says he changed or something."

"Loki will be staying with us?" You raised an eyebrow. The attack on New York happened before you joined the team, but you were familiar enough with it to be wary of Thor's brother, even if Thor did speak more nicely of him recently. Still, you had never actually met Loki to form your own opinion.

"That's… to be decided," Tony grumbled, shooting a glance toward Steve. "But yes, pretty much. And, by the way, Strange wasn't happy about having reindeer games back in the city either."

"Wow, you guys finally agree on something," you snickered.

Tony mouthed a 'don't' to you, before Steve said; "Strange knows we'll handle it if anything happens, but Thor vouches for him, so…"

You gave Steve a soft smile, and as much as you understood Tony's wariness, you agreed with the Captain. Loki didn't have the best of pasts with the City, but his help in the recent battle was one of many game-changers. He deserved a second chance.

Strangely enough, you found yourself excited to meet the God of Mischief. It was in your nature to analyze people, watch them from afar, and learn about the things they'd rather not say out loud. And someone like Loki, who had both once tried to take over your planet and now helped in saving it, was bound to raise some curiosity.

No more than an hour passed before you heard Thor's strong voice all the way from the living room. A small smile instantly came to your lips as you discarded your book, got up from the couch, and put on your slippers, rushing to the main doors to greet him.

Before you could turn the last corner, however, you came to an abrupt halt. Your breath got caught up in your throat and you had to lean back on the wall for support. Clutching the fabric of your shirt right above your heart, you were glad that this particular hallway was currently empty.

You could hear Thor's voice just around the corner, Tony was there too, but their words were faint and far away. Your vision was suddenly a little blurry, and underneath your palm you could feel your heart beating frantically.

See, this was nothing that hadn't happened before, after all, you are an empath. But a feeling this heavy rarely comes unannounced, unwanted. It briefly reminded you of when you first discovered your power, when you had no control and could pick up on pain, anger, joy, and pleasure that were not your own even if you didn't want to. Yet now, after years of living with it, you had learned to dose your perception of the feelings around you; now, when you weren't willingly focusing, other people's emotions felt more like a gentle whisper, a gush of chilly wind on your skin—something you were able to ignore if you wanted to.

But this overwhelming sadness; this emptiness, and loss, and pain; it came to you with such force that you were not able to block out. Seconds felt like hours, until the surprise of the new feeling passed and you took back control. Whispers of it remained, lurking in your stomach and in the back of your throat, but with a bit of extra focus, you were able to handle it.

And once your mind was finally clear again, it hit you. Who did you catch these feelings from?

You took a step around the corner cautiously, hands buried in your pockets as your eyes roamed your surroundings. There was no one around besides Tony, Thor, and Loki.

You knew it right away. You were familiar with the emotions radiating from Tony and Thor; but him, the raven-haired trickster, he was new, and if you didn't feel empathy for him before, you did now.

Loki held himself immaculately, a straight posture and a serene expression on his face. You had no idea how he did it, how he was able to hold all of those feelings in and still look so well put together; because one glance into his soul and you already felt like crying.

There was a light drizzle falling outside, maybe that's why Loki's black blazer seemed to be shining under the bright lights of the entrance hall. His eyes—bright and ocean-green—were settled on you; the realization got you feeling hyperaware of each movement you made. Even his gaze was heavy.

Thor's booming voice calling your name captured your attention then, he had a big smile on his face and before you knew it he already had your feet off the floor as he held you in a hug.

You laughed against his shoulder, hugging him back just as tight and telling him all about how much you missed him. Still, when you let go, your eyes found Loki's again, he hadn't stopped looking at you once.

─── ·❆· ───

The opinions about Loki's presence in the compound were mixed, but most of your teammates seemed fine with it; truth be told, no one paid much attention to him. As you'd expected, Loki's room was on your floor, because that's where Thor stayed too; as well as Tony, Natasha, and Yelena.

It's been a few days since his arrival, yet you haven't had the opportunity to properly speak with him, alone. But you've been feeling him a lot. Whether it was you subconsciously focusing on him more, or something else, it seemed like your body was more in tune and connected with his than you've ever been with anyone else. You picked up on a few of his emotions even if you weren't actively trying to; you felt his bouts of uneasiness when someone would stare at him for too long, you felt his gentle serenity whenever he'd sit near the windows to read a book, you felt his sparks of joy when people greeted him with a good morning or asked if he'd want coffee; but most of all, you still felt that lingering sadness that followed him everywhere he went, a weight he seemed to be all too used to having around.

In some ways, you felt as if you were invading his privacy, and that bothered you. During the day you tried to keep your mind as busy as you could to keep yourself from feeling him; in the late hours of the night though, when you were trying to sleep, there wasn't much you could do.

You have been tossing and turning in bed for probably about two hours now, drifting in and out of sleep. The crescent moon just outside your window seemed to be taunting you, amused with your misfortune. You scoffed as you glared at the natural satellite—great, now you were arguing with the cosmos.

Loki was having a nightmare. You could tell by the rapid beating of his heart and the cold sweat running down his forehead—your abilities went way beyond simply feeling other people's emotions, but sometimes you wished they wouldn't. It's not the first time that you've felt Loki's restless sleep in the short time he's been here. Your heart ached for him; it got you wanting to alleviate his pain.

But you couldn't do that, so you got up from your bed, put on your fluffy slippers, and made a beeline for the kitchen. The air outside was chilly, biting at your warm skin and making you shiver. At this hour of the night, the compound was completely dark and quiet, a big contrast to how it was when the sun was up. You asked Friday to turn on one of the lights in the kitchen, giving the space a dim-lit look as the single light bled into the adjacent living room.

You rubbed the sleep from your eyes, humming the lyrics of the song stuck in your head as you reached for the upper cabinet to grab a mug so you could make yourself some tea. When you turned around again though, a gasp escaped your mouth and you nearly dropped the mug you were holding. You cursed quietly under your breath, placing a hand over your heart; if you weren't fully awake before, you sure were now. "You scared me," you muttered, trying a small smile.

The reason for your lack of sleep stood before you, with dark green slippers that matched his button-up pajama shirt, and his hair the messier you've ever seen it be. "Sorry, it was not my intention," Loki smirked back at you.

It hit you that this was finally the first time you were alone with him, and you'd been caught off guard. You tapped your mug, opening your lips but no words came out. Loki's eyes remained on you, unwavering, yet his gaze was so… soft, gentle even; his eyebrows weren't creased and he patiently waited for you with his hands in the pockets of his checkered pajama pants. He didn't look like the god you usually saw roaming the halls during the day.

"It's alright. I was just making tea," you said finally, gesturing to your mug, "would you like me to make one for you too?"

Loki's surprise at your offer was so great that you felt it in your bones. What was he expecting you to do?

His lips parted only slightly and he straightened his posture before saying; "I would- yes, I would like that."

You couldn't help the full smile that came to your lips and crinkled the side of your eyes, "great, sit down, it'll be ready in just a moment."

The warm mug between your hands warmed up your skin. It felt nice, sitting like this with Loki; in a quiet kitchen with only you and him, and just the lonely light to your left softly highlighting his features in front of you. It was a peaceful silence, and you couldn't help but check if he felt it too.

The rhythm of his heart was calm, his soul felt light and at ease; not completely, but the most you've ever felt from him.

"Why are you here?" His sultry voice snapped you back to reality.

"Uh- I'm sorry?" You frowned.

"Why are you here, if I may ask?" Loki tilted his head amusedly, his fingers tracing the brim of his mug. "Thor mentioned you had… abilities, but he never specified what they are."

Now it was your turn to be surprised by his curiosity for you. "Well, to put it simply, I'm an empath," you told him.

Loki blinked, once, twice, at your response. He looked at you for a moment before inquiring further; "and to put it completely?"

You smirked then, folding your arms over the table. "I can feel people's emotions, if I want to; their anger, happiness, hesitation, fear. But I can also feel their heartbeats, the blood cursing through their bodies. I can tell when they're lying or telling the truth, if they're tired or hurt. And sometimes, I can influence those emotions," you paused, hesitating for a beat, "bring fear, or… take away pain."

Loki grew tense after learning of what you could do. To be fair, most people did at first, you were used to it. Be he felt different, his heartbeat sped up and stayed that way. He'd put his guard up, and it brought a pang of hurt to your chest.

"Are you always feeling everything then?" He narrowed his eyes.

"Gods, no," you breathed, "at first I did, and it was awful. But with time, I learned to control it." You tried smiling at him, but his eyes were downcast, focused on his mug.

You bit your lower lip in nervousness. Looking past Loki and out the window, you could see the first signs of the sunrise peeking over the horizon, dark skies turning a soft lilac and blue; you'd been here longer than you realized.

When Loki glanced up at you again, his bright eyes still held sparks of that same softness from earlier. He pursed his lips in a smile; "thank you for the tea." And with that, he got up and left, leaving you in the company of the first birds who always sang in the mornings.

─── ·❆· ───

You made Loki nervous. It wasn't a bad kind of nervous, it was the kind that sped up his heart and made his cold hands feel clammy.

Out of everyone in the compound, you were the kindest. You'd always shoot him a smile whenever you'd pass by each other in the hallways; you'd always save a seat for him at the table; you always respected his silence whenever you came into the library and caught him reading his book, saying a quiet hello and nothing more, just sitting on one of the armchairs with your own book and allowing him to enjoy his moment, and more recently, your presence too.

When he'd finally learned of your abilities, he got apprehensive, worried even; that you'd pick up on whatever it was that he felt when he was near you, and it would drive you away.

So far, it hasn't happened yet.

The sun was out today, and with it, so was everyone else. In the spacious backyard of the compound, Steve was in charge of the barbecue, and Tony was in charge of the drinks. Natasha had sunglasses covering her eyes while she and Clint bickered over a game of cards; Yelena was sitting beside her sister at the lunch table, however, she seemed to be on Clint's side of the argument. Thor and Banner were laughing together as they made fun of Steve's cooking skills, who tried to defend himself by saying he wasn't actually done yet. Tony looked like he was trying to convince Bucky to drink a dubious-looking beverage, the latter didn't seem too keen on it.

And Loki watched them from afar, from the living room window of his floor. Thor had asked that he join them downstairs, saying something about how he should start trying to fit in and mingle, instead of just existing in the others' presence. Making friends wasn't Loki's forte; as much as he'd fight not to admit it, he was still working up the courage.

With a long sigh, Loki turned around and made his way to the place where he'd been spending most of his free time.

The compound's library was quite huge. One of the few rooms in the whole facility that had warm colors painting the walls and lacked the modern look; tall wooden shelves held thousands of books, a soft beige carpet covered the floor, and there were armchairs and sofas scattered in corners and in-between shelves creating comfortable, isolated nooks for reading. Loki's favorite spot was a worn armchair that stood near one of the big windows, it was surrounded by books that most people didn't read anymore, and the window itself overlooked the treeline in which the sun hid behind at the end of every day; sometimes as he sat there to read, it reminded him of his room back in Asgard.

Loki walked brushing his fingers over the spine of the old books, watching as dust particles danced in the sunlight. But as he rounded the shelf that led to his spot, he abruptly stopped in his tracks, feet glued to the carpet.

You sat cross-legged on the worn armchair, with a thick book lying in your lap that held all of your attention; the sun was shining right behind you, creating a halo above your head and bathing the strands of your hair in golden. You looked like something out of his favorite tale, more enchanting than all of the Midgard poetry books he's ever read.

It seemed like you two were making a habit of bumping into each other unexpectedly.

Loki gulped, squaring his shoulders. A beat passed, and then two, until you finally noticed him from the corner of your eyes. You looked up at him with your eyebrows softly raised in surprise, a gentle smile lifted the sides of your mouth; "Loki, hi."

"Hello," Loki greeted you slowly, his eyes shifting from the book in your lap to your eyes, "shouldn't you be out with the others, enjoying the sun?"

"Should I?" You narrowed your eyes, lazily closing your book and getting up from the armchair. "Shouldn't you?" You asked then, smirking as you raised an eyebrow and took a step towards him.

Loki's heart stumbled inside his chest, he breathed out a laugh. "I'm not big on hangouts."

You hummed, burying your hands in the pockets of your jeans. "Why is that?"

For a moment, Loki dwelled on whether to be honest or come up with an easy lie. But you were looking up at him with such delicacy, such attention, not a trace of hatred or judgment in your warm eyes. It almost looked as if you cared... about him.

Loki breathed in sharply through his nose, the words rolled off his tongue on their own; "I doubt many of your friends would enjoy my presence there."

You blinked up at him, lips parting before you told him quietly; "I would."

There was a distant burning behind Loki's eyes, his mouth felt dry. No one had ever rendered him completely speechless before, yet now, you had done just that. With his silence, you avoided his eyes and ran your tongue over your bottom lip in a motion that he couldn't help but follow.

"And..." You continued, voice sweet as honey, traveling between the bookshelves in the secluded library, "We'll never know if we don't try, right?"

The way you referred to you and him as 'we' got a foreign feeling blossoming inside Loki's chest, all warm and tingly. When you offered him your hand, so you could guide him downstairs to meet the others, he took it.

─── ·❆· ───

After a full week of taking care of the whole city, Saturday nights were a time for having fun and relaxing; aka movie nights with the team. Everyone sat together in the main living room of the compound, Tony had labeled it 'mandatory bonding day'. The room itself was pretty spacious, dimly lit, with two big comfortable couches and a TV that almost covered the whole wall, and a small kitchen right beside it for easy snacks and drinks.

"Right, I'm thinking... Terminator." Tony suggested as he came from the kitchen with an extra large bowl of popcorn in his arms.

"We saw that one already," Steve complained as he fumbled with the remote.

"There are multiple ones," Tony said, smugly, as he plopped himself on the couch and threw popcorn in his mouth.

Thor, who sat beside you, suddenly perked up with a giddy smile on his face; "oh I've always enjoyed that one who has the girl with the long, magic hair." The god gestured to his own hair.

Tony gaped at him, his fingers holding the popcorn were frozen midair. "Tangled?" He exclaimed then, eyebrows raised, "You wanna watch Tangled? in my house?"

You fought to hide a smile. "Technically it's our house," you quipped, after all, you were to blame for Thor's love for the Disney movie.

"Why don't we just watch both? The night is still young," Yelena finally suggested from her spot by the corner of the couch.

As they continued bickering, your eyes finally caught sight of the one you'd been waiting for.

Loki walked into the living room quietly, his socked feet barely making any noise on the expensive flooring. His gaze found yours before he saw anything else in the room, and a gentle, shy smile appeared on his lips.

You'd grown very close, very fast. Loki had started seeking your presence more and more each passing day; during the mornings he'd wait for you with an extra cup of coffee in hand, during the missions it was already routine that you two were a pair, and during the night you never parted ways without him planting a kiss on your forehead first.

Never in your life had you met someone quite like him, who carried such a bruised heart and still managed to be so loving. It made you wonder if anyone had ever bothered to see how beautiful his soul was, for you had fallen in love with it before you even touched his skin.

You gently patted the vacant seat on your left side, lifting the thin blanket covering your legs so Loki could sit down, and once he did you draped part of it over his legs as well.

"What's today's punishment?" Loki smirked, making himself comfortable beside you. His shoulder flush with yours.

"Stop it, movie nights are nice. I know you secretly enjoy them too," you chuckled, bumping his knee with yours. His proximity raised goosebumps all over your skin, and if you weren't so focused on your own feelings, you would've felt how much Loki's heart was racing as well.

"I only come to these because you do too," Loki mumbled, his eyes focused on the TV and a frown appearing on his eyebrows as the first scenes from Tangled played on the screen.

Your breath caught on your throat. He had said it so casually, so easily. You wondered if he had even realized the weight of his own words. "Right," you whispered, a little breathless.

It didn't take long for the only light in the room to be the one coming from the TV. When Tangled hit the 45-minute mark, Tony was already snoring and Thor had finished two bowls of popcorn. You, however, were wide awake and fully aware of Loki's arm resting on the back of the couch. What a cliche move, you thought to yourself, your cheeks burning hot and biting back a smile.

Loki's face as he watched the movie was nothing short of comical, one would think he was watching a period drama; his lips hovering ever so slightly before he'd scoff at a musical scene, his eyes softening as the romance between Rapunzel and Flynn blossomed, the way he mindlessly played with the ends of your hair. You watched him more than you watched the movie, and you didn't miss the way he froze and gulped when you finally rested your head on his shoulder.

─── ·❆· ───

The day had started out fine; a cold yet sunny morning, your fingers brushing Loki's when he handed you your cup of coffee, no eminent trouble in the city, everything was normal and fine; until it took a turn for the worse.

You didn't hear the fight, you didn't know exactly what caused it, but you felt it immediately. Anger, hurt, and pain were suddenly heavy in the air even through the closed door of your bedroom. As soon as a shiver ran up and down your spine you got up and all but ran outside to chase the somber feeling.

The elevator doors of your floor weren't even fully open yet when Loki busted his way through them, Thor hot on his heels.

"I knew it was a mistake coming here," Loki snapped, his steps fast as he put as much distance between himself and Thor as he could, nearly running straight into you in the process.

"You know what, brother," Thor began, he had stopped walking, standing in the middle of the living room, "Maybe it really was a mistake to bring you here, you don't care about anyone but yourself, it's almost as if you enjoy hurting people, you can't help it. It'll always be like this, that's why you're better off on your own." Thor wasn't shouting, but his words rang loudly in the room; his chest heaving when he stopped speaking.

You had held your breath the entire time, gripping the back of a kitchen stool until your knuckles turned white. Thor was angry, you could feel it even without being near him, but he didn't mean what he had said, not entirely. Thor's emotions were a passing wind on your skin though, for who you really felt, stood just a few feet behind you.

Loki had his back turned to his brother when he spoke, and he didn't turn around after. Even without looking at him, you could feel the way he trembled, unsteady hands closed into tight fists to mask his hurt; he gulped back a sob, and kept on walking to his bedroom without a word.

You could choke with the amount of pain radiating off of Loki; heavy, sickening, all-encompassing pain that you felt so vividly in your skin and bones. You only shot Thor an angry glance and muttered; "Damnit Thor," before turning around hastily. You thought you heard Thor calling after you, but you decided to ignore him, your priorities already set.

You ran after Loki, catching up just before his door slammed shut. Taking a deep breath, you walked into his bedroom and softly closed the door behind you with a click.

You'd never actually been in Loki's room before, so you took a single moment to glance around. The room itself was a little bare, with only the necessities such as a double bed, a dresser, a desk, a small bookshelf, and the door that led to his bathroom. You made a mental note to gift him something to liven up his space; maybe a plant.

Loki had his back turned to you still, both his hands resting on his waist as his head hung low. But you knew he knew it was you there with him, by the simple fact that he was allowing you to stay.

The silence was a heavy one, packed with the electricity of two souls tightly holding onto each other. Loki was trying so hard to keep all his pain in control, his shoulders shaking with each breath he took; but you could feel it as if it was your own.

"Loki," you said his name in nothing but breath, testing the waters. You took half a step toward him as you fidgeted with your hands.

He didn't answer. You weren't expecting him to.

You pursed your lips before saying; "he didn't mean it," your voice was choked and took effort to come out, the back of your eyes already burning, "what Thor said. He- he didn't mean it."

A few beats passed, and then; "doesn't matter if he did." Loki's words cracked in the middle, it was the most broken you'd ever heard him sound. "He's right."

"He's not," you told him in the same heartbeat, not a tint of hesitation in your tone.

Loki turned around, his gaze finally finding yours and there were tears pooling at the bottom lid of his bright eyes. "Yes, he is," he took a single big step toward you, nearly closing the distance between you and him. Loki's lips trembled as he struggled to keep talking; "and why is it that you care? What's in it for you?"

He was hurt, and he was frustrated, and he was angry; you knew that. Still, you couldn't help but be taken aback by his question. What could he even mean by that? Did he really believe that all this time that you'd been dancing around each other's feelings, it wasn't real?

"Loki, I-" you stuttered, not knowing how to say it without baring your heart in the process. Your hesitation got Loki avoiding his eyes from yours, and you forced yourself to go on. "There's nothing 'in it for me' I just... care about you."

Still waiting for the other shoe to drop, Loki softly shook his head, scoffing. His tears were a blink away from spilling, he felt as if barbed wire was wrapped around his throat, and his heart threatened to jump from his chest and straight into your hands.

It scared him. How easily you could make his walls crumble like paper in the rain. He flinched slightly when he felt the ghost of your touch on his cheek, blinking multiple times when your thumb brushed away a single tear rolling down his cheek. You touched him as if he were porcelain, and yet it still broke him.

"Is it that hard to believe that you're important to me?" You asked then, voice nothing but a whisper in the short space separating your bodies. With your hand still holding his cheek, you forced his eyes back on yours. "You have a good heart, Loki. I just wish you could see it the way I do. I wish everyone could see it."

The crooked smile he gave you nearly made your own tears fall. "You don't know what you're talking about, you don't know what I've done," he told you quietly, more than anything, he sounded utterly defeated.

"But I do know," your free hand found one of his then, and you tangled your fingers together loosely, "I might not have been with the Avengers when you attacked New York, but I was still in New York. And I still mean it, you could tell me every single bad thing you've ever done and I'd still tell you how good you are, because I see it. Every single day, Loki. I feel you every single day, and I can feel all this-" Your words caught in your throat and you tasted your tears on your lips. "-All this pain that you carry around and you still choose to be good."

Too many emotions swam behind his eyes for you to put a finger in any of them. But tears were running freely down Loki's cheeks now, pooling against your hand resting on his cheek.

"What did you-" he tried, gasping for air as if he was underwater. This was foreign territory. You had a place in his heart no one else could ever have, he realized, and his heart was beating faster than his mind knew what to do with. "You've been prying into my emotions without me knowing?" He sounded more desperate than annoyed.

"I didn't want to," You explained quickly, "I- I never meant to, but for some reason, I can't block you out." Shrugging weakly, you slowly dropped the hand resting on his cheek, missing the way he glanced down in search of your warmth. "I tried. I really tried."

There was a vulnerability in Loki's eyes you'd never seen before. He looked at you as if he'd just realized what love is. You wondered if you mimicked the same gaze—you sure felt it.

Loki shuffled in his stance. His hand, still holding onto yours, tightened its grip. "I'm-" He avoided your eyes, looking somewhere past your shoulder, "I'm sorry you had to feel all that."

You softened at his words, shaking your head and taking another step forward until your sneakers bumped his shoes. "Wasn't your fault," you whispered.

Loki gulped back a sob after you spoke, and that was the last straw for you to let go of his hand and pull his body to yours in an embrace.

He melted into you.

Loki's fingers dug into the fabric of your shirt and he buried his head against your shoulder—you soon felt it becoming damp, yet you only hugged him tighter. With the desperation he was holding you with, you wondered when was the last time someone had held him.

The soft sobs escaping him were muffled against you. And you couldn't help but stroke his back, the tips of your fingers burying into his very soul. "I'm sorry you had to go through all of this alone." You spoke near his ear, feeling the goosebumps that raised on his skin. "You never deserved it," you promised.

You weren't sure how much time passed, you stayed there for as long as Loki needed you to. When he eventually pulled away, he didn't go far, his hands kept holding your body close to him as if he was afraid you'd leave if he let go.

His bright eyes didn't hold a storm anymore, they were more like a calm sea. A soft frown etched itself into his eyebrows, "did you… take away my pain?"

You chuckled quietly, "No, I can't take away people's emotions." You lifted a hand until your fingertips could brush the skin on his forehead, "But I can make them lighter." You traced an invisible line over his eyebrow and until you reached his cheekbone, "Make the weight just a little bit easier to carry."

Loki leaned into your touch, almost closing his eyes. His hands that rested on your back traced your spine and pulled you closer. "Darling, you've been making it easier ever since the first day I met you."

⋆* ☾ ⋆*･ﾟ:⋆*･ﾟ

Thank you for reading this little story. Feedback and reblogs are literally what keeps me motivated to continue posting here, so I’d appreciate it if you could take some time to reblog and comment. <3

You do not have permission to repost, copy, or translate my works on any platforms (even with credit), please respect.

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[narcissuspetal]

PLEASE WRITE FOR TATE PPL

[narcissuspetal]

counting on it | coryo snow x reader

a/n: hello all... this is supposed to be a part 2 for fear or endearment, but i feel like rewriting that one so idk, this could as well be a stand-alone writing / one-shot with a possible continuation? idk though. happy reading <3

this is techincally part 2 of this little drabble

word count: 4k

themes: fluff

warnings: mention of bombs, idrk what else??

gif credit goes to owner <3

the phone in her room never rang, which meant only one thing – it wasn’t the usual mysery business calling. each time the house phone rang, however, it was like a heart attack for her. any incoming calls to her home were only to her parents to tell them about her making trouble at the Academy again, and again. so it was never a pleasant phone call.

but she knew it could only be Coryo calling now, so she picked up the phone with a lovey-dovey smile on her lips already. “yes?” she asked into the round microphone end of the device, squeezing it between her rosy cheek and her shoulder. 

“good evening,” coryo’s shaky voice said into the speaker, and it was so uptight that she giggled, “is this you or not?”

“i-it’s me, yes,” she confirmed with another giggle. he’s nervous around her still, and miserably so, and it’s coming out in the form of a very formal greeting, “but is this really you, coryo?”

“of course it’s me,” he said, now so sure of himself he was bleeding with it, “were you expecting someone else to call?”

“well, there’s the routine call from the Academy about me misbehaving that comes once or twice a week,” she answered, “no one other than that. why are you calling? i usually call you.”

she could hear him make a smile into his microphone, and she blushed at the thought of it, and his quiet chuckle that she heard, too. “i was thinking of you,” he admitted, and she raised her eyebrows. coryo being nervous one minute but then blunt the next really does a number on her. she wouldn’t believe he was such a nervous wreck around her by his looks, or by her own. he must be really... “if you’re free and not sleeping, i wanted to show you around grandma’am’s—well, our family’s—garden upstairs. o-only if you want to, of course, and if you’re free.”

she smiled again and shook her head. this cold boy was warming his way into her heart quicker than he was before. before they’d crossed that sacred line with the kiss in his empty kitchen. “yes, i’m free and not sleeping, and i would love to,” she said, “didn’t know you had an upstairs garden. i’ll be over in less than twenty minutes. do you need anything from my cooks?” 

she always looks out for him, doesn’t she? he hadn’t even thought of that aspect of their relationship. he’s only in total emotional turmoil and was missing her terribly. the bombing at the arena and then being in hospital, out for who knows how many days, robbed him of seeing her every day, like he usually would, which he’d grown used to. she would have visited him in the hospital, but apparently she was not permitted to – she guesses because of her trouble-making at school. her presence and the frequentness of it brought him comfort. he couldn’t think of anyone else at this time, not even Tigris could console or comfort him. not like y/n could. 

she got barely a good enough answer from Coryo, but packed a bag of sandwiches and pie nonetheless before departing in her driver’s car for Coryo’s apartment in the Corso. she knew he didn’t like charity, and wouldn’t be asking for food from her if it wasn’t absolutely the end of days. he also didn’t let anyone else from school but her see where he lived – and even about her, taking her upbringing and current wealth, he had doubts. with her unpredictable nature, he could never predict her reaction to seeing his home. and not knowing whether she’d run and belittle him at school or stay and still like him regardless was frustrating. because he could never have any control over her reactions, and that scared him. 

but she didn’t run away, nor belittle him, nor think less of him. a home is a home, and she knew how hard anything was to come by for the Snows. because her and Coryo had become friends over all their time spent together at school, even despite the vast difference in their personalities, they had this undoubtable connection, she had grown to care about him. therefore it was her idea, of course, to bring him any food she could from her mansion of a home where food was always excess. truth be told, Coryo had thought of the possibility of asking her, but he would never have let down his pride or let her see his vulnerable side. perhaps, until now. 

she was panting and heaving when she finally reached the floor of the Snows’ penthouse in the apartment building, which isn’t the ideal state to meet the boy of your fancies in, but seeing his welcoming smile made her feel at ease. she hardly came off to people as anything but frazzled, but Coryo has proved that it doesn’t matter to him, so she dares not worry. she smiled back wide, too, and doubles over for a few moments to catch her breath. 

Coryo paced over to her and put a hand on her arm, which made her look at him. “hey,” she said in a heavy breath and with a smile still on her lips, “i’m fine, really,” she said with a shake of her head. Coryo nodded and then shrugged.

“how improper of me, i should have gone down to walk you up,” he said, then, and they both chuckled.

“don’t worry your pretty head over it,” she said in response with a carefree throw of a hand, “just a shame the elevator doesn’t work.” Coryo nodded again at her statement, and y/n breathed one last sigh of heavy breath before really looking up at him. there was something different about him. most of all, his piercing blue eyes looked glassy, unlike their usual look- cold, convicted, confident, calm. all the characteristics she could match to Coryo himself. her eyebrows twitched slightly as she reached a hand out to his cheek, and upon touching it found him trembling. now that she looked at him closer, and he let her do that, she noticed his curls messy, out of their usual arrange, and his cheeks not as rosy as always, blueish rings under his eyes. something was troubling him, and she didn’t have to guess twice what. 

she kissed his lips quickly, feeling as though he might fall apart or spill his worried words out like a river if she didn’t. Coryo immediately sunk into her through the kiss, arms wrapping around her coat-covered waist so close he nearly started to lift her up and, really, with the mood he’s in, he might as well have. he was so desperate for her, so desperate to feel her close that it made himself nauseaus. he’d sworn off any romantic relations until he and his family had a better place to live, and the breaking of his own promise made him an enemy to himself. what was she doing to him?

but this felt so good with her, so good that he never wanted to let go of her, never wanted there to be a day in which he doesn’t get to see her if only for a few seconds. she was making him feel things he’d never felt before, things he couldn’t understand now. pulling away from her after giving her a searing hot kiss was torture, but he had to give them both air to breathe. “i missed you,” he admitted to her what he’d never admitted to anyone else before. y/n smiled and nodded, their foreheads touching, “i wanted to see you. i had to.”

“i know,” she nodded again, “i’m sorry i didn’t come to the hospital – i couldn’t.” she admitted with a gentle shake of her head, and suddenly she felt strongly overcome by emotion. “they wouldn’t let me in.” her hands rested on his neck, on his chest, she nearly made desparate gestures, as if he wasn’t in her hold or would be taken away any second. she’d missed him, too. Coryo furrowed his brow. they wouldn’t let her in? he looked into her eyes, and she nodded, her eyes sad, too, but not nearly as sad as his own. “my reputation as sort of a rebel and all.”

that word. poison to him. poison to the whole nation. her using it as a joke didn’t come off too strongly with comedy, and he wished she wouldn’t use it at all. “they were fools not to,” Coryo said amidst his inner disagreement, “you should have come with Tigris and Sejanus, they would have let you in then.”

“pretty hard to get hold of them when they don’t really know about us,” y/n pointed out the fact with half a smile on her face, hoping it wouldn’t stir the wrong nerve in the boy. but it didn’t. Coryo always knew the truth, just didn’t always act on it or deem it worth anything. what good was the truth if you could tell lies instead? he nodded at her and closed his eyes, “i only found out you’ve been hospitalised from the news. and the bombing – god, Coryo, that’s just...”

he made a firm shake of his head at her words and pressed a kiss to her cheek before taking her hand and leading her away from the stairwell. she just watched him as he pulled her through his door, knowing Coryo doesn’t like remembering the war days. they both experienced it, both had run-ins with bombs and many other traumatic war characteristics that they’d rather forget. Tigris and grandma’am were both asleep, so there were no worries about accidental run-ins with either of them, while y/n was still unintroduced to both. Coryo wanted to avoid an awkward situation right now as best he could.

Coryo led her to a door by their kitchen, which opened up to a stairwell, rather than a simple cupboard (what would they keep in there, anyway? the Snows had so little belongings to them and so little food to eat that there was hardly any excess anything in the apartment), and, himself going first and y/n following suit with her hand still in his, led them both up those stairs that looked older than his grandmother with no doubt. the breeze of the night welcomed them with sweeping arms as a cloud of red and white surrounded y/n’s vision.

a rooftop garden. the Snows were giving y/n’s family a run for their money with the beauty of this scooped-away little paradise. she gasped as she tried to take it all in, looking all around herself at all the roses – white and red – engulfing her and Coryo. there was scarcely anything else on the rooftop besides the roses, just a pair of old chairs, gardening tools and a watering can in one of the far corners. this was just unbelievable.

her hand covered her mouth as she looked at Coryo in shock and fascination. there was quite nothing like the beauty of so many roses, and the view this rooftop gave of the city. truth be told, the Capitol could look better – torn, burnt buildings, trash littered in the streets, hardly any plants growing anywhere, and it looked especially worse now in the night, scary even – but still, a panoramic view was a panoramic view. she clung to Coryo, arms around his waist as she all but blushed and gushed at the sight around them. “it’s breath-taking, Coryo,” she said finally, and he put an arm around her, smiling softly at her joy. he didn’t know another person’s smile could mean so much to him, and even warm him and make him feel better. 

“grandma’am’s pride and joy,” he said to her, overlooking the garden, too, and he walked them both further into it, away from the door – god forbid either of his sleeping family members woke up from their voices in the night. 

“i’ve been wondering where you got those roses you like to give me,” and the one for lucy gray, y/n said as she ran her hands over the beautiful, seemingly perfect white petals. no flaws on them, none visible, anyway. just like Coryo himself. she looked back to him, his hair seeming to glow in the dark of the night, and Coryo smiled at her with tightly closed lips, “god, it’s great here. i love this view,” she said and leaned on the edge of the stone balcony, her hands splayed on either side of her, stretching further away from her. Coryo took slow steps to approach her, and finally he dared to come up just behind her, arms wrapping around her waist again. she immediately leaned into him, locking her hands on his on her stomach. 

“it’s great for when i want to be alone, catch a break,” he said and sighed softly. her thumb gently grazed across the pearly white skin of his hands and her eyes slowed down in wonder. they usually jump around, never rest, but it’s different when she’s with him. he seems to ground her a little. 

“was tonight one of those nights?” she asked quietly and felt him nodding as he made a hum of confirmation. she turned around in his arms and looked up at him, hands on his chest. “i figured as much. you never call me yourself.” she said and made an airy chuckle, though Coryo’s lips barely lifted to make any kind of expression at all. “what is it?” he shook his head and made to kiss her again, dipping his head down, but she moved away. “you have to talk to me.” she said, with a firm hand on his cheek now, in case he attempted for her lips again. “you have no reason to hide from me, come on. and i wouldn’t tell anyone, you know that.” it’s her unavailing ability to always somehow make a half-hearted joke that Coryo likes about her, even though he wouldn’t let himself like that. 

but he found himself unable to say no to her. so he turned them around, him being the one who leans against the edge now, both of them holding onto each other still. he looked at her thin coat and the dress she’s wearing underneath, and he traced his hand up her arm just to ease himself. “the bombs were horrible,” he finally said in a quiet voice, “i was scared for Lucy Gray, too. but see, she saved my life.” Coryo said, and y/n could see he hated to admit it. that a district girl could do good. all this propaganda about district people being animals and monsters worked well on them as children, but now, as they’re growing up, they’re seeing some truth for themselves. even if the propaganda is hard to erase from their minds. “i’m in her debt for that. and i’m not sure i could ever repay her.”

“you could help and make her win the games,” y/n suggested, but with nods from Coryo she knows he already thought of that, of course.

“i don’t know if i can do that,” he said in a frail voice, “she said to help her i should start believing she actually could win, but... i don’t think she’s gonna make it,” Coryo admitted, “other tributes are better at fighting and stronger than her, she barely has a chance. which means she’ll probably be one of the first ones to get killed, and then i’ll lose the Plinth prize and the Snow name will go into ruin.” he jumped to conclusions quickly, as she has found that he usually does, and it made her sigh. she pulled him in for an embrace, her arms around his neck, forehead to forehead, her curls tickling her cheek. 

“i still can’t believe they let the games go on after the bombing,” she admitted quietly, “but that would be Capitol showing weakness, so of course they wouldn’t stop the games. but look,” she held his trembling face in her hands, trying to make him look at her, “you and Lucy Gray both have charm. as much as i’ve noticed, no one else does. and no one is as bonded to their tribute as you are. her song brought her a lot of donations, and you can work with that. she just has to hide out long enough and...”

“that’s where i stopped, too,” Coryo said and shook his head with a sigh again, “it was doomed from the start. Highbottom has something against me, i know he does. i got the last district, and i couldn’t help her – just as he wanted.”

“i still believe you can prove him wrong,” she argued back, convicted, “but as mentors, you are pretty helpless when the games start. it’s all up to the tributes themselves.”

Coryo looks up at her again, “i bet you would have made a great mentor,” he told her with that charming half-grin on his delicious lips that made her tilt her head at him in disbelief. 

“me?” she echoed and Coryo nodded. “please, you’re just saying that to get into my pants. i can’t even make people like me at school, much less make the whole nation like someone from the districts enough to support them in the arena.” she shook her head. “i would be a terrible mentor.” 

Coryo shook his head and pulled her closer to him again by her waist, her having taken a step back while talking. he had her attention now, she looked down at him again, with seemingly a question mark in her eyes. “i like you, and i’m from school,” he said as his hands slid up her back, his fingers so long and his palms so big he could cover just half her back with his hands. 

“yeah, but i didn’t make you like me. i didn’t even try and here we are,” she said dismissively and meant to pull away again before Coryo kissed her lips again. ah, so that’s what he was trying to say – she didn’t even need to try to get him to like her. there was no effort, there was just her usual self and he liked her for that. it still seemed hard to believe, though. “i like you, too, by the way,” she butted in again before returning a kiss and smiled at Coryo chuckling at her little joke. he spread his legs for her to get even closer, now standing between them and kissing his pink lips with one of her hands splayed on his cheek and the other carefully ghosting over his snow-white curls, not wanting to ruin them. 

but Coryo didn’t care, they were all dishevelled before they met up, anyway, and in this moment between them his own visual look didn’t matter that much to him. she was already kissing him, anyway, he’d won her over, so to say. and he was pulling her closer and closer to him with his hands roaming all about her back and her hips as their kisses grew more frequent, more hot, more messy. Coryo felt like his head was spinning, and he knew he was disobeying the doctor’s orders to rest and take everything easy with this. but he couldn’t help it. it was her.

he hoisted a leg of hers over his, surprising her and earning a gasp from her. which gave him the advantage to deepen the kiss with his tongue now poking at her own between their heated kisses, and he actually made her moan. it hummed so deliciously into his mouth and Coryo felt himself shudder because of it, his trousers tightening exponentially around his crotch. she was no longer afraid of ruining his perfect hair, she ran her hand through the soft curls and reached into his half-unbuttoned shirt with her other hand, skimming his perfectly-shaded naked skin with her careful hands. their kisses lost count and air ran out, but they just needed each other so much that they didn’t even notice. Coryo ran his hand across her up-hoisted thigh, even reaching under her dress, which made her hum against his lips again. “ungh, Coryo,” she mumbled into his burning mouth and grabbed onto his neck for support as he edged his hand higher and higher up her dress.

he might have reached near the spot where she had the most heat ignited for him, but her accidentally pressing her hand into a sensitive, wounded area on his back made him yelp out and jerk like he’d just been hit by live electricity. she immediately jumped off him and saw the hurt expression on his wincing face and felt guilty. a hand covered her mouth as the other one carefully reached out to him. Coryo took his shirt off and looked over his shoulder—though he could barely see that way—if any stitches had broken loose, and then exhaled sharply, suddenly sounding exhausted.

“Coryo, i’m so sorry,” she said in a hushed voice, still wary to touch him without his permission. he looked at her for a moment and then shook his head. she could see the pain was fading away by the expression on his face – the wince and cringe were slowly letting go of his facial muscles – but she still felt bad. 

“don’t be,” he told her in a hoarse voice, “i didn’t tell you about my injuries. you couldn’t have known,”

“but i still feel bad,” she said and came closer to him again, “i—i could take a look for you. maybe stitch you up, uh...” Coryo shook his head just as she took his hands in hers, and his head hang low again. “i’m sorry, let me fix it.”

he gave her a firm head shake again. “you don’t need to, i’ll go to a medic tomorrow,” he assured her and looked up into her bambi eyes again. she looked so pretty to him suddenly. well, of course, she always looks pretty and beautiful to him, it’s just her emotions right now that made her eyes look bigger and... he couldn’t put it into words.

“i could... stay over, if you don’t want to be alone. we could just talk or sleep, whatever,” she suggested with a naïve smile on her over-kissed lips, though already knowing that it’s probably going to be a “no” from him, knowing that the two of them were a pretty private item. if they were an item at all, of course. and, of course, Coryo shook his head.

“it’s late, you should be home,” he told her and gave a kiss to one of her hands, “besides,” he added, getting close to her again, nose to nose, “i’ll just get carried away with you again and then i’ll bleed all over you,” he said with a slight smile, and she appreciated the notion of a joke from him this time, instead of her. she giggled and her head dipped lower, his words – both dangerous, comedic and enticing – making her blush as if she was as young as twelve or thirteen and a boy had just flirted with her for the first time. Coryo kissed her temple and squeezed her hands. “you’re irresistible to me.”

she looked into his eyes and saw nothing but sincerity and lust as he said those words, so she believed him. she took a deep breath and made a small smile, that blush ever present in her cheeks. “as you are to me,” she said, “you could stay over sometime, though, at my place. i’d love for you to stay over,” she admitted quietly before she got ready to leave.

Coryo made a sheepish grin at her words and walked her back down the stairs and to the door of his penthouse. he took her close in his arms again for one more time before she had to leave and whispered in her ear, “i can’t promise i’ll be on my best behaviour with no one but you around.” he told her words that made her shiver and she just smiled wide as she stepped away from him.

before slipping out and through his door in the hour of creeping dawn, she said something very characteristic of herself, “i’ll be counting on it.” and with a kiss blown to Coryo, she was out and on her way home.

permanent tag-list: @gabiatthedisco​​​​​​ @v0idbella​​​​​​ @works-of-fanfiction​​​​​​ @ur-gunna-h8-ths​​​​​​ @betweenloveandfire​ @but-legendsneverdie​​​​​​ @deardeacy​​​​​​ @thewinchesterchronicles​ @mavieesttriste16​​​​​​ @intrrverted​​​​​​ @the-freak-cassie-131​​​​​​​​​​​​​ ​​​ @xoxobabydolls​ @corallyink​ @rottenstyx​

let me know if you want to be tagged in the future !!!

[narcissuspetal]

Part Of Your World ~ p.p

Pairing: Peter Parker X Mermaid!reader

synopsis: Peter meets a girl who dreams of being where the people are

chapter one: under the sea

chapter two: kiss the girl

[narcissuspetal]

This fic was so good pls read it

[narcissuspetal]

WHEN I TELL YOU THAT THIS IS PROBABLY ONE OF THE BEST AND WELL WRITTEN TOM RIDDLE FANFICS I HAVE EVER READ

PLEASE READ IT ITS SO GOOD HELLO

[narcissuspetal]

I think we should all be talking about this.

+

[narcissuspetal]

Please read this!

As a lot of you may have heard about scientists being arrested for protesting and trying to warn us about climate change.

This problem has been ignored continuously plus the distractions that has happened like covid, Ukraine and Russia, etc. The government has been hiding this from us continuously and it’s time we make a move. A lot of us like I might not even become adults before and irreversible damage hits the earth.

Scientists have been trying to warn us for decades (even when I was not alive), but no one listens. We all need to make a move before what the scientists words come true and we do lose everything. However, we are merely just people we aren’t the big ones like the government one of us trying to make a difference will not make an ounce difference. We all need to help stop climate change. Help stop fossil fuels because the longer it continues the faster the earth’s damage will no longer be fixable in our hands.

I’m terrified and you all should be too. I might not even make it to 20. My brother might not make it to 10. In the end all of us will suffer. The government doesn’t care. Most of them have lived their lives and probably won’t be here when everything has turned into dust.

PLEASE TAKE THIS SERIOUSLY AND START ACTING UP.

https://www.smithsonianmag.com/smart-news/scientists-stage-worldwide-climate-protests-after-ipcc-report-180979913/

https://www.independent.co.uk/climate-change/news/nasa-scientist-protest-extinction-rebellion-b2057563.html?amp

https://www.globalcitizen.org/en/content/how-to-cut-fossil-fuels-from-your-life/

[narcissuspetal]

can I request a peter parker (t.h) x reader. where y/n pushes May out of the way of the glider and ends up dying.

Hi love!! I wrote a fic quite some time ago and its sort of the same idea just without the r pushing May out of the way so if you’d like to check out that fic!!

If you’ve already read it feel free to go to my dm’s and request a new one!!

[narcissuspetal]

Series Masterlist | Blurb masterlist 

✗ = it’s a blurb

Stitches - Based on the song ‘Stitches’ by Shawn Mendes. Where Tom is in an unhealthy relationship and comes to you one night when things get too hard.

Strawberry Kisses - You find yourself on your best friends doorstep for the first time in three weeks after you find your boyfriend cheating.

Hoodies and Disloyalties - You hear Tom saying things about you to his friends which leads you to become distant (Angst to fluff)

Broken hearts and Empty cups (part two here) - Where Toms friends dare him to break up with you and he feels the need to prove a point. (Angst)

Bun in the oven - How Tom found out about your pregnancy and how it simultaneously almost ruined your relationship.

Doctor, Doctor - Ambers 4k. Your husband gets into an accident on set and you’re the first one there to help. (Doctor!Reader x Tom)

In denial - Tom loves you but thinks pushing you away is easier than admitting the truth.

Little things- just a barista!tom imagine

Affliction -  Everyone has insecurities but some are worse then others- some are enough to ruin relationships.

What we lost: It’s been months since your miscarriage and things aren’t the same between you and Tom. When you hear him talking to Harrison, your heart breaks all over again.

By the way, I still hate you: You and Tom don’t like each other at all and everyone knows, so why not make things more complicated by sleeping together not once…. but whenever you can get within range? You find out why that’s a bad idea, someone always gets feelings.

Love of my life: There are 365 days in a year and you’re lucky enough to see your love on one of those days. At least they called it lucky– you called it a curse but hey, sometimes you have to learn the hard way about falling in love with demons.

Almost a good way to die:  In public and in front of cameras, Tom is just your bodyguard. But behind closed doors you’re much, much more. This is just a glimpse into one of your mornings with him where something goes a little wrong

Seven Minutes - A car, eyes cast on the backseat, a red light and a truck. Four things that spell out trouble. You look back on exactly what happened and the aftermath.

Hello, I love you - This was originally going to be a series but I decided to leave it as a stand-alone.You’re only supposed to have one soulmate, one person to give your heart to. So what happens when two boys stumble into your life?

Get up - Toms entire life is skating, it’s all he knows. So what happens when he manages to get injured during training for one of the biggest events in his career and you’re there to see the entire thing?

Everybody’s in love (but you and me) - Everyone at your best friends wedding seems to be in love. But you and Tom.

Build Me Up (Buttercup) - Tom receives a knock at his door at half-past one am from his bruised and bloodied best friend.

Until I see you again - You don’t know when you’ll get to see him again so you make the most of the time you have.

+ The 5 love languages. 5 little imagines based on each of the 5 love langauges: Link here

Headcanons:

Tom dating a cat person

Dating Tom and being a college student

Tom taking care of you during a depressive episode

Capsize - Peter has been hanging out with a different crowd lately and he won’t listen to your warnings.

Breaking Point - Peter and you have been holding back for a while now, but it seems you’ve reached your breaking point - From an imagine I’ll never finish.

Let Go Of Me - Peter can’t forget.

Falling, Falling, gone. - You’ve been going through things causing you to shut yourself out and Peters worried sick so he shows up, wanting to know what’s been happening.

Grey Skies - Somehow Peter feels everything and nothing all at once.

Bullet wounds - You get shot on a mission and try to hide it from Peter.

Cherry - Peter has his eyes on you but yours are on someone else. Homecoming is the make or break for the two of you- only Peter doesn’t make the best decision.

Bloodlines - The reader is Tony’s daughter and Peter’s girlfriend and Tony manages to find out.

Does it feel good to be bad? -  After losing everything, Peter gives up his lifesaving ways for a life of crime and causing havoc on the streets of Queens. But you’ll always be his weakness, so when Peter hears your screams one night he can’t help but come to the rescue.

Just to see you smile - you and your boyfriend are in europe for a school trip and you sneak into his and neds room.

Before I Go - Tony Stark was always putting himself in harm’s way but one day things finally go too far. It’s a good thing Peter is there to hold you up back, right? Wrong.

You, me and the edge of the world -  Peter and you survived the snap, but now it’s up to the two of you and the rest of the Avengers to bring everyone back. It must be fate that you both end up on Vormir. 

Headcanons: 

Couple nicknames for one another

Peter using pick up lines

Excuses Peter has used to hold your hand!

The Three Ways - The 3 ways you subtly asked Michelle Jones out, the 2 ways she subtly turned you down and the 1 way you finally got her to cave.

Observant ✗ -  Michelle is awfully observant and no matter how hard you try to hide your feelings, she always has a way of finding out.

 Rainy days and crushes ✗ - “i know you don’t like hugs… but i could really use one right now.”

Days in Europe ✗ – You’re in Europe but Michelle is your favourite view.

Natasha Romanoff:

These Four Years - Natasha left you four years ago with no warning, only a year after the snap. So when she turns up at your door asking you to help get everyone back, you’re a little shocked to say the least.

Sleepless ✗ - Where Nat sleeps better when she’s with you.

[narcissuspetal]

𝘁𝗵𝗶𝗿𝘁𝗲𝗲𝗻

< 𝖼𝗁𝖺𝗉𝗍𝖾𝗋 𝗍𝗐𝖾𝗅𝗏𝖾

✧·ﾟ:*:·ﾟ✧*:·ﾟ✧·ﾟ: *✧

𝐂𝐇𝐀𝐏𝐓𝐄𝐑 𝐓𝐇𝐈𝐑𝐓𝐄𝐄𝐍

𝐀𝐂𝐓 𝐈𝐈

⌜𝐌𝐔𝐆𝐆𝐋𝐄 𝐈𝐍𝐕𝐄𝐍𝐓𝐈𝐎𝐍𝐒⌟

✧·ﾟ:*:·ﾟ✧*:·ﾟ✧·ﾟ: *✧

𝗛𝗘𝗥 𝗰𝗵𝗮𝘀𝗲 𝗮𝘁𝗹𝗮𝗻𝘁𝗶𝗰

𝘸𝘰����𝘩 𝘴𝘩𝘦'𝘴 𝘩𝘪𝘨𝘩 𝘧𝘢𝘴𝘩𝘪𝘰𝘯

"𝐎𝐎𝐇 this would look cute...mhmm this one as well...this would look so good with your hair colour," pansy was pulling clothes off the racks and piling them onto y/n's arms.

when pansy had basically emptied the whole store, she shoved y/n into the giant dressing room to try them all on.

*cue the quintessential movie dressing room montage where the main character tries on numerous ridiculous outfits and the main character's best friend shakes her head disapprovingly at them till they reach the last outfit that's perfect and the friend gives two thumbs up*

after purchasing y/n practically a whole entire closet, pansy and the y/h/c girl walked out of selfridges, numerous shopping bags on their arms.

dropping the bags off by the parkinson family car, the two girls made their way to house of fraser for shoes and accessories.

as the two girls walked into the grand department store, they were approached by a retail clerk.

"you two look awfully young to be shopping here, if yous here to horse around i'd wish for you to leave," the lady has red-rimmed glasses, her hair was gelled neatly into a tight low bun at the back of her head. her eyes were slits, staring the two girls down.

pansy face frowned in anger and annoyance, "excuse me?"

"pans come on let's go it's fine we can go somewhere else," y/n tugged on pansy's arm towards the direction of the exit.

soon an older man in a suit started walking over to the three from behind the sales clerk, "what's with the commotion?"

"these two girls were planning to shoplift, but not to worry sir i was just about to escort them out," she explained rather proudly to him, almost as if she was expecting a praise from her boss.

when the man finally saw over the clerk and was met with pansy and y/n, his face shifted in horror.

"oh my goodness! ms parkinson how are you doing today?" the man quickly did a small bow.

y/n read off the nametag on the man's blazer, general manager in italics were engraved on it.

"i was doing well mr anderson, but i've now found myself in a terrible mood," pansy said rather dramatically, putting her hand on her forehead.

y/n had to conceal the laugh that was threatening to spill.

"i apologise ms parkinson, please do allow me show you the way," the store manager immediately led y/n and pansy further into the store.

when pansy walked past the sales assistant, she did not forget to give her the finger.

real classy pans. real classy.

pansy got herself a jimmy choo white heels, while picking out a few pairs of trainers as well as a black pair of black so kate 120 suede pumps for y/n.

a few rings and necklaces were selected and the two walked out of the store happy with their purchases.

"babes that's your uncle innit?" pansy tapped on y/n's shoulder while pointing to a man in black robes.

y/n squinted her eyes in the direction of where her friend was pointing.

and much to her horror, it was indeed her brother.

merlin did y/n want to dig a hole into the ground. severus was in his usual dress robes. they were literally in central london and homeboy looked like he churned butter in the 18th century.

y/n facepalmed herself and started walking towards her brother, pansy following behind.

"y/n, miss parkinson," severus greeted the two girls.

"hello professor," pansy replied.

"what are you doing here? wearing that?" y/n eyed her brother's outfit, of the usual black dress robes and cape, up and down.

"just looking around for some...muggle things..."

actually, voldemort had really wanted some scran from the chicken shop, and so severus had no choice but to come to muggle london to get some.

for someone who hated muggles, tom riddle did love himself some chicken fand chips.

"right...anyway can i have some money please?" y/n batted her eyelashes and gave her brother the sweetest 'i'm your baby sister, you love me' smile.

severus rolled his eyes and pulled out a ten-pound note.

"thank you uncle sev!" y/n remembered not to give away the sibling's identity.

"why'd you need the money for?" pansy asked rather curiously as they walked away from the middle-aged man.

"i saw a really pretty ring i wanted to get just now," y/n hummed in response.

by the time pansy had dropped y/n back at the malfoy manor, it was dark outside.

draco greeted y/n at the door, helping her carry the bags up to her room.

"i take it you had a good time," draco started to peer through the shopping bags.

"mhmm. i'm so thankful for pansy, sev and i didn't have much growing up. i felt like a real princess today."

"well you're my princess," draco smirked, pulling y/n into his embrace and kissing the top of her forehead.

"you're minging," y/n groaned, burying her head into draco's chest.

but draco knew she didn't mean it, he could feel her smiling into his chest.

"oh! look what pansy got me!" y/n pulled away from draco and rushed to the pile of shopping bags.

"it's like a telephone that you can carry around! how amazing is that!" the girl presented the small flip phone to the boy.

"i've seen pansy use one before, never understood how it worked. must be magic really," draco inspected the phone.

"she said i could use it to call her, but it doesn't work when we're in hogwarts. something about having no ser...serv...service...? or something like that."

draco started pressing random buttons on the phone, unsure of how to work the contraption.

"999, what is your emergency?" the small device suddenly spoke.

draco threw the phone in the air out of shock, while y/n's eyes widened.

"999, what is your emergency?" the voice repeated.

"how do turn it off, what's happening?" y/n quickly picked up the phone off the floor pressing buttons to make it stop.

"prank or false calls to emergency services is a punishable offense by law."

"dray! how do you turn it off?!" she whisper-yelled to the blonde boy.

"you're asking me?" draco put his hands on his hips thinking of what to do, "oh! i know" he grabbed his wand off his desk and cast a muffliato charm on the phone.

that's one way to fix it i guess.

safe to say, y/n decided that she was better off sticking to owling pansy instead.

𝖼𝗁𝖺𝗉𝗍𝖾𝗋 𝖿𝗈𝗎𝗋𝗍𝖾𝖾𝗇 >

reply to be in the taglist <3

[narcissuspetal]

Ukrainians fleeing with their pets. They don’t leave them behind. 🐶🐱🙏 I can’t imagine the pain and heartbreak picking up your pets and leaving your home. Heartbreaking for all. 💔

Praying for peace between Ukraine and Russia and all over the world.

Photos via Missenell

[narcissuspetal]

Hate to be that person, but WW3 trend on TikTok is not funny at all, especially your stupid POVs. Because no, Jessica from Chicago, you won’t have to hide in the basement to avoid being nuked and no, Kyle from LA, you won’t get drafted to the front lines. 

You again missed the whole point and managed to make this situation all about yourself, so I’m going to assure your stupid ass - this war is not going to affect you in any way, but you know who it’s going to affect? Actual people from Ukraine, who are going to lose their lives and be displaced from their homes, just like for the past 8 years. 

So congratulations on your stupidity, because it’s not about “I need a way to cope 🥺🥺🥺”, it’s about you celebrating and making fun of other people’s death.

[narcissuspetal]

Praying for Ukraine and the people 🇺🇦

Donation Links

Ukrainian Red Cross

Voices of Children - Help the children affected by the war!

Assistance for logistical and medical support of the armed forces of Ukraine

The international rescue committee

International medical corps

This is the most help I can do. Please help donate to the people of Ukraine even the smallest amount does make a difference. Pray for Ukraine 💙💛

Please reblog this and let everyone see it!