#would you believe me that this is not nearly the strangest thing there?

[not-souleaterpost]

Weird thing from Monotone Princess - Blair seduces schoolchildren

Just to proof that I'm not making up some urban legend with the previous post, one example of weird shit in that game lol.

#soul eater #monotone princess #blair #black star #Death the Kid #Ox Ford #jail time #would you believe me that this is not nearly the strangest thing there?

[ohmyeyesmyeyes]

supermarket run-ins (the start of something new)

summary: nathan mackinnon x f!reader // the supermarket meeting...eventually they'll get married (from this)

warnings: nate being adorably awkward

word count: 3.2k

< i'm gonna link this to a series called 'funny how life works out' (in the works) on my main masterlist and if there's anything you want to see from this universe, please shoot me an ask, my requests are open! >

Nate knew there was always going to be a risk of running into someone he went to school with when he came back to Cole Harbour: the place was pretty small, and nearly every time he’d gone out he’d see a familiar face hiding around the corner, but he wasn’t sure if he could take another awkward conversation, least of all when he was grocery shopping. 

It was early May, and the second round loss in the playoffs against the Sharks was still a remarkably sore ache, and the last thing he wanted was for someone to offer their condolences for it: he knew people meant well, but sometimes it did just rub salt in the wound – and for that reason, he decided the best course of action was to do his grocery shopping a little way out of town and at the strangest time possible, i.e. seven A.M on a Thursday morning, because who the fuck else would be insane enough to go grocery shopping that early in the morning?

Or, at least, that was part of his strategy. The other part involved wearing his sweatpants and zip up (it was chilly that early in the morning) and a baseball cap inside to make himself seem as glum and as unapproachable as possible. He wasn’t necessarily trying to hide his identity – it never worked with a baseball cap in those superhero movies – nor did he actually believe that people in Halifax would genuinely care who he was, because he wasn’t the only person to have made it to the NHL in these parts, and he certainly wasn’t the most famous, either. In fact, people were more blase about it than not.

Still, that didn’t stop him from keeping his head down when he walked through the doors as soon as the store opened, nor did it stop him from keeping his eyes on the floor as he navigated his way through the aisles, listening rather closely to the faint music playing over the intercom as he picked up a basket and made his way for the fresh fruit and veg aisle. 

Despite having only been back home for a few days, he already had plans, and those plans consisted largely of cooking, eating, working out, and then walking the short distance from his house to Sid’s so they could mourn the devastating loss of their Stanley Cup for this year. Though, Nate did feel as though he had more of a reason to mourn this time: Sid had won it three times already, and this season the Penguins didn’t even make it to play-off contention, whereas the Avs had. Second round. Still bitter. And Nate had yet to get his hands on Lord Stanley.

Even the mere thought of it made his jaw clench. He wondered what he must look like to an onlooker: murderous glares at the carrots usually weren’t a good sign for anyone. In fact, even that thought had him swiping a bag of carrots and looking both ways down the aisle as a precaution, as though he was guilty of doing something – yet, as far as he was aware, the only thing he was guilty of was being this miserable sore loser at seven-ten in the morning. 

He reckoned that was a new personal record – he could usually hold it off until half past the hour, but it seemed the early morning pining had gotten to him exceptionally early.

He took a step to the right, reaching for the bag of lettuce, when something caught his attention out of the corner of his eye. Usually he wouldn’t have bothered looking: he was in a supermarket, and people were expected to walk through pretty often, but he’d been the only person sad and mad enough to wait outside the doors until they opened up, and he knew for a fact that no one else had followed him in immediately after.

Only, when he turned his attention to the end of the aisle, he saw someone. A woman. She was walking down towards the back of the store, the aisle directly in line with his. He didn’t know if she’d seen him, but she had headphones on and was wearing athletic gear: shorts, trainers, a long-sleeved top under a short-sleeved one. Nate knew that because he recognised the logo on her shoulder and he had one of his own, only it a different colour, and it was much bigger.

He blinked, turning back to his own list. 

He didn’t make it through another five seconds before giving in and looking back at her. He couldn’t quite shake the air of familiarity she encompassed. Even though he hadn’t seen her face, there was something undoubtedly recognisable in the way she moved and stood.

He’d seen that woman before. Knew her, even. He didn’t know who she was, but he knew that much. He just had a feeling, the kind that settles so delicately in your bones and has your heart pounding just that little bit faster – he couldn’t quite ignore it.

Still, he continued on with the rest of his shopping, even going so far as to treat himself with some cake mix (that he was probably going to just bake and give to his parents, because he’d have one slice and get bored and before he’d know it, he’d have to throw the entire thing away because it’d gone stale), and it was as he was making his way back up to the tills, walking straight through the ready meals aisle, that he saw her again.

She was standing in front of the refrigerated section, her basket on the floor as she held two boxes in her hands, seemingly undecided on something. A small part of him hoped that she’d see someone coming and look at them (him, really), so he could deduce who she was. In fact, a large part of him wanted that. It was all he wanted at that moment. He wasn’t sure if he could leave the supermarket without figuring it out before he left – and he immediately shut that thought down because he sounded like an absolute creep.

He kept his steps mildly loud and purposeful, not moving too fast or too slow to rouse suspicion, and he kept to the centre of the aisle. At some point his hands seemed to have made the decision to take his cap off his head, because when he briefly looked down at his basket it was sitting on top of the cat food (probably for the better, because it’d be weird if he ended up saying he didn’t actually own a cat even though he had cat food – that was guessing he’d even end up saying something anyway: it was all rather a large question mark in that sense), and he ran an anxious hand through his hair, fluffing it up from where it had been squashed, before looking up.

The woman reached down, dropping a box into her basket, the other one nestled safely back on the shelf, and whether he’d timed the entire thing impeccably well, or whether she’d actually seen him, she looked up. Right at him. And, before he could even do anything consciously, his legs had slowed to a stop.

He was right. He definitely knew her. In fact, the very woman standing in front of him was the exact same one he’d had a crush on in school from the age of ten to…well, he wasn’t quite sure when it stopped because he left shortly after that, but now she was standing in front of him, smiling politely, and Nate instantly felt like a giddy ten-year old again.

It was you.

You, who upon seeing he’d stopped in his utterly bewitched stupor, had taken the headphones off from over your ears and had turned to face him.

All because he stopped in his tracks.

“Hi.” You said, picking up your basket on the floor and regarding him with some sense of confusion.

He blinked, his mouth falling open dumbly, the words sitting right there on the top of his tongue, but he seemed suddenly incapable of even stringing anything together. 

He shut his mouth almost immediately after that realisation, and the flush in his cheeks almost seemed inevitable — as did your curious quirk of an eyebrow, because even the people that didn’t know him well knew it was never a good sign for someone who was so used to being in the public eye, to stutter and make a fool of themselves simply trying to have a polite conversation.

“Is everything okay?” 

He didn’t know it was possible to blush even harder, but he felt it tingle in his toes and the tips of his ears. 

“Sorry, I—” he cleared his throat, heart hammering in his chest like there was no tomorrow, “You just took me by surprise, I guess. Haven’t seen you in years.” He managed, tongue feeling thick and heavy in his mouth. He’d never struggled so much before, but old habits do die hard and he’d never been completely normal talking to you when he was ten.

A look of pleasant surprise crossed your features, and only then did it occur to him that it might be weird of him to say something like that, because you two hadn’t really known each other at all. A few weeks sitting at the same table didn’t exactly constitute the kind of friendship that’d be so profound you’d shock him.

“Would that surprise also have something to do with the fact that we’re apparently the only two people with the thought to go shopping at this time?” You ignored the latter half of his bumbling ramble, probably for the better, and instead seemed to find some relief in the fact that he had regained his ability to talk.

He didn’t quite know which was worse.

Nevertheless, he stuck on a smile and tugged awkwardly at his earlobe for a moment, “It might, yeah.”

You hummed, rocking back on your heels with the faint trace of an amused smile on your face.

It was only then that he noticed the old, slightly worn in Halifax Mooseheads logo printed squarely on the front of your t-shirt, and he very quickly averted his eyes — only the more he seemed to look at your face, the more obvious it became that you were every bit still as beautiful as you had been to his ten year old self, if not more. 

“So, where are you, how are you these days?” He asked, once again the words tumbling straight from his mouth with little thought, but you seemed to appreciate the question, if he read the look on your face correctly.

“I went to college in Montreal, and I’m still there. I work for a law firm as a legal translator…And I guess I’m doing well.” You shrugged, “What about you?”

Nathan swallowed nervously, the crushing weight of the loss almost crashing into him full force, and he knew he froze for a good couple of seconds, trying to get his head back into the present moment. He didn’t know if you could tell just where his mind had gone, or if you were just that patient, but you didn’t say anything or do anything to indicate his lack of immediate response.

“I’m good, yeah. I mean, I’m still reeling from the play-off loss, but it’s nice to come home and recharge.” He inhaled, “But other than that, Denver’s treating me well.”

“That’s good.” 

“As good as it can get to say I got absolutely no choice as to where I had to live when I was eighteen? I’d say so, yeah.” He agreed, feeling himself ease up a little.

He couldn’t get his mind to quieten, and he felt jittery; he didn’t know what to do with his hands and he knew all of that would be solved if he just stopped thinking so hard about a simple conversation, but all he could think about was his poor younger self, who, upon finding out he had to move to Minnesota, did wonder what happened to you.

If his younger self could see him now…

You laughed softly at his sarcasm, and he felt the clouds part for a moment – a laugh meant he wasn’t completely making a fool of himself.

“What are you doing here now anyway?” You asked, wandering across the aisle, your basket still on the floor, and he watched, one hand stuffed in his hoodie pocket, as you picked some cheese off the shelf and made your way back to the basket.

“I’m restocking my fridge and avoiding any possible run-ins with people–well, with people I went to school with, actually.” 

You just grinned, and for some reason he had an idea of what your next words would be before you even said them, “How’s that working out for you?”

Nate shrugged lamely, “There are worse people to run into.”

And from the comical look on your face Nate had an awful feeling that you knew exactly what he was talking about.

“Is that why you’re here too?” He continued, acutely aware of the fact that you were mid-shopping trip, and he knew for a fact that even if he did want to keep standing there and chatting to you for a little while longer, he couldn’t. Not really. Still, it hadn’t been quite long enough yet to end it now.

If he did, he knew he’d regret it if it was the last time he’d ever see you again for the rest of his life.

You shrugged, showing no signs of his presence or conversation either dulling or pissing you off, and answered without hesitation, your basket now in your arms again, “Yeah, but I’m also busy for the rest of the day so I couldn’t go at any other time.”

“Oh, anything nice planned?” 

“It’s my Dad’s birthday, so there’s some family coming over and then we’re all going out for dinner.” There was a pause, and for a brief second Nathan felt himself get hot with panic at the mere thought of that brief pause turning into an awkward silence, but you spoke again, and his heart rate dwindled and his body temperature lowered with the help from the fridges, “You got any plans for today?”

Nate felt himself begin to nod before he could spew the words out, “Yeah.” He said, “I’m seeing Sid tonight.” It was only after he finished talking and had the chance to double-check that he hadn’t said anything wrong accidentally, that he realised that you might not know who Sid is.

He had no clue if you even liked hockey. In fact, he knew little to nothing about you apart from that fact that you were clever, played soccer quite violently from what he’d heard from some of his friends, and that you went to college in Montreal, and both lived and worked there now. And it was your Dad’s birthday today.

In fact, now that he thought about it, you hadn’t actually given him any indication that you knew who he was. You’d not said his name, how would he know you weren’t faking it to be polite?

He didn’t voice any of that, though. If he did, it wouldn't matter if you knew who he was or not, because the second he voiced exactly what was running through his head, this entire thing would turn into a car crash.

“Kind of crazy how that works out, huh?” You asked rhetorically, and Nate raised a brow, waiting for you to elaborate, “I remember you talking about him in class, and now…”

Nate grinned, only just resisting the urge to sigh in relief, and all at once his mind seemed to clear. It quietened; he could think properly now. All because you remembered him. 

He felt a little bit pathetic, actually, at how easy it was for him to physically brighten because of one vague thing from fourteen or so years ago (fourteen!), that he probably told everyone who would listen – but he had a strong visual in his mind, then, of everyone else on that school table tuning out his Crosby-rambling, and you were the only one listening. He remembered you’d ask him questions, and…you liked hockey, he remembered that now.

It was funny how a moment so insignificant in the past could feel like a tectonic plate shifting under his feet. 

“Oh, yeah.” He rubbed the back of his head sheepishly. God, he really did chat hockey a lot, didn’t he? “And they say don’t meet your idol.”

You fucking remembered him!

You breathed a laugh, and Nate felt something in his chest splinter at the sound, only when he seemed to really look at you next, you shivered, teeth pressed together and shoulders trembling. He didn’t know how he hadn’t noticed it before, considering you were standing in a cold aisle with shorts on, and him with full length sweatpants and a hoodie, but it was freezing. Really cold, and the guilt that came with that observation had him immediately stepping away slightly.

“Oh, I’m so sorry, I should let you get back to your shopping.” He rambled nervously.

“It’s okay, I’m not really in a rush.”

What was he supposed to say to that? What did it mean? Was it an invitation to stay longer? To keep chatting? He had no fucking clue, and he was sure the chaos of his thoughts was unfortunately also mirrored on his face judging from the way you were now looking at him (or was he overthinking that, too?); yet, the only thing that came out of his mouth was: “It was nice catching up with you–”

“I have three days left before I go back to Montreal.” You interrupted, and Nate blinked.

He blinked again. His heart was in his throat. What–Oh. 

“Do you maybe want to get drinks before you go?” He asked, heart pounding so very painfully against his ribs. He didn’t know why asking that question was so nerve-racking, especially considering you’d half fone the job for him anyway, but there was something tugging at him that had his hands trembling slightly as he put his number in your phone. He looked over to see you doing the same on his phone, and though your fingers were shaking too he couldn’t say for certain if it was because of the cold or your own nerves.

“Tell your Dad happy birthday from me.” He muttered once he’d repocketed his phone and managed to make eye contact with you without a) smiling too hard and looking like a crazy person, or b) looking like he was constipated.

“I will.” You promised, “Have fun tonight, too.”

“I’ll try.” He managed a normal smile, “See you later.”

“See you.”

And he spent the entire walk back to his car trying not to scream out of excitement. He’d never been so giddy for later.

#nathan mackinnon oneshot #nathan mackinnon imagine #nathan mackinnon fic #nathan mackinnon x reader #hockey fic #nhl fic #nhl imagine #nhl oneshot #hockey oneshot #hockey imagine

[bunni-v1]

Cureé

Chapter 2: Strange Men Previous Chapter || Next Chapter

Tw: Vil is a manipulative older brother; Idia

Info: Vil and Reader; Idia x Reader; Riddle Rosehearts x Reader; Leona Kingscholar x Reader

🍓How exciting that I got the second chapter done. It's considerably shorter, but I hope it's still worth reading. Love you all, enjoy!

Tags: @kitsun369 @bloomstruck @squidsailing @roseinbloom02

You sit quietly in your room, drenched in sweat in clothes far too small for your frame. You felt like a child waiting for a scolding. You might as well be. The anticipation of your brother's reaction to your little escapade with Epel was wearing on your mind since the guards set you back into your room.

No one was allowed to visit you, and you weren’t allowed to leave - at least, that's what you assumed the burly guards placed outside your door and windows were for. You sighed – you’d been doing that a bit too much today. 

Left alone with nothing but your thoughts and time, you decided you would ponder about what happened to you today instead of driving yourself mad with worry. 

You turned another year older and had another extravagant party where all you did was sit and watch your guests enjoy it for you. You learned your brother intended to sell your heart off to the highest bidder of jackasses in all of Twisted Wonderland. And… most importantly, you realized that you and your brother are not nearly as close as you thought.

Just how many secrets was he keeping from you? 

Did he banish you from the forest because he knew about that phantom? If he knew why didn’t he tell you about it? Why has he done nothing to stop it until now? What about all the citizens you know who frequent that forest? Was it all right for them to go in with such potential danger?

So many questions swirling in your head, you nearly forgot about the strangest thing of all—that man from the party. You hadn’t even caught his name, but he had made such a lasting impression on you. 

You took the hat he gave you off your head, examining it with curiosity. He knew so much and was so charming and sneaky at the same time. If you were a weaker person, you would’ve fallen for him in a heartbeat. 

His words still echoed in your head, how people wanted to harm you, how he wanted to see you again. You won’t lie and say it didn’t make your heart race a little.

Your door creaked open, and you looked up from the hat, fiddling with the brim of the hat. The long-awaited confrontation has come.

Vil’s face was practiced patience, the perfect queen stood in front of you. Not a hint of what he felt was leaking through his facade, but you knew he was pissed beyond words. He took his seat from the tea table and pulled it to sit across from you, resting in it as if it were a throne.

Were you a regular citizen, or were this a normal day, you would be horrified. However, you had sat with your thoughts long enough to understand you had every right to be leagues angrier than he was.

He stared you down, waiting for you to relent. When you didn’t, he sighed, shaking his head.

“This was a rebellion,” he started.

“Was it? I wasn’t sure. Thank you for letting me know, brother.” you shot back with venom dripping from every word.

“You are angry.”

“You have betrayed my trust.”

“I am doing what I must for the betterment of our people.”

“The betterment of our people includes selling me off to the dragon prince that everyone is afraid of?”

“I am not selling you off.”

“What are you doing then? Vil, he claimed I was his betrothed!”

“He is trying for your hand, as everyone else will, fairly.”

“Who is everyone else.”

He sighed again, clearly frustrated with your unwillingness to bend to him. It felt liberating to see him upset in the same way you had felt upset since your parents died.

“Leona, Riddle, Malleus, and Idia are your main contenders,” he admits, rubbing his temples, "there are a few more, but they don't stand much of a chance."

“I can’t believe you offered my hand to Leona Kingscholar. You do know he hates my guts, right?”

“And I hate him, but his family adores you, and the alliance would be beneficial.”

You groaned, burying your head in your hands, “It’s always about benefits with you isn’t it? Could you not think of what is fair and kind for me for once?”

Your brother did not respond for a long moment, and you thought that perhaps he had left, but then he wrapped you into a tight hug. He hugged you like he used to when you were both little kids, both innocent to the world around you and still afraid of the shadows on the wall and monsters under your beds. Despite all your anger and your unanswered questions, you melted into his arms and cried your heart out.

“I have not been kind or fair to you, and I apologize for failing you in such a way,” he whispered, “you can trust me, my darling. I have never done anything that wasn’t in your best interest.”

·┆✦ʚ♡ɞ✦ ┆·

You did not learn much that night, or the many nights afterward. You doubted that your brother would’ve told you much about the monsters in the woods if you asked anyway. It had been weeks since your night in the woods, and things were returning to normal… sort of.

If you ignored the new presence of your new suitors wandering around the palace. Ah, and, your new guards. Courtesy of Riddle Rosehearts. Seems he wanted to get on your brother's good side early, so he sent you two of his kingdom's ‘best’ knights. If by best he meant stupidest.

Ace and Deuce were diligent but incredibly easy to rile up – especially Deuce. Ace spent most of his time trying to do just that, and Deuce always fell for the bait without fail. They were just magnets for trouble, though. ‘Trouble’ being Roseheart’s attention, of course. 

You were in the library with them at this moment, skimming through history books, attempting to find any information about what you saw in the forest. All you knew was that these creatures were fictional in the eyes of the public, but the history books could tell you something.

They weren't proving too useful.

You wondered how that mysterious man found so much information on this creature. First-hand experience, maybe? If that were the case, then shouldn’t more people be aware that these creatures are real?

You sighed, closing another dud of a book on the table. 

“‘Nother loss?” Ace asked from his seat next to you, flipping through a nonsensical fiction book.

You nodded, picking up the next one to start looking through it. You’d been at this for hours and still hadn’t gotten anywhere.

“Maybe you should take a break,” Deuce offered shyly, still not used to being friendly with royalty.

“Nah, let ‘em suffer,” Ace snarked, closing his book with a laugh.

You rolled your eyes, “It wouldn’t be so bad if I had some help.”

“We’re not helping you chase a crazy dream, Your Highness,” he teased.

“I believe you princess.” Deuce defended, though he made no effort to grab a book.

“Thank you, Deuce. It’s nice that one of my guards appreciates me and my mind.” You joked lightly, enjoying the way Deuce perked up at the praise.

“Aw, you’re such a suck-up,” Ace groaned, “seriously though, what do you think you’re gonna find in these old history books.” He snatched the book out of your hands, flipping through the pages, “This stuff is hidden, so looking in the regular books probably won’t get you anywhere.”

You sighed, slumping in your chair. He was more right than you’d like to give him credit for, and it frustrated you to no end when you were proven wrong. 

“Hey, don’t give up just yet, we can still find something if we work together,” Deuce assured squeezing your shoulder, and you gave him a tired smile. 

Instead of comforting you as well, Ace stood from his seat with a posh look on his face. Book in hand, he began reading from it in a voice that you assumed was mocking yours. He had his own way of making things easier, you supposed.

It was just what you needed too, to be poked fun at. It was making this process far less arduous. You and Deuce both laughed gleefully at his obnoxious display, so he amped it up, pretending to be more prissy and royal.

None of you heard the door opening through all the noise you were making, nor the clicking of heeled boots and clanking of metal armor until it was too late.

A voice cleared behind the three of you, and you knew it was Rosehearts by the way Deuce and Ace immediately stiffened. You sighed, turning to look at the Duke with boredom, waiting for his routine lecture. 

“I was unaware that your training taught you to mock the princess, Ace, is that what you've learned, or do I have to send you back to the kingdom for remedial lessons,” he said, scowl wrinkling up his otherwise stunning face.

“No sir!” they responded with varying levels of enthusiasm.

“So why do I keep catching you doing just that--”

Riddle's personal guards – Trey and Cater – sent you an apologetic look. You placed a hand on your hip, rolling your head back in annoyance as he continued his lecture. You felt for his people deeply. If this was the man running their country, they were doomed, and you were doomed if you had to wed him.

You weren’t sure how long he went on for, you weren’t listening at all, but it must’ve been an eternity with the way Deuce was sweating. He looked horrified, poor thing.

You would hate to upset your brother again, but you hated little tyrants who didn’t know their place more. 

“If I catch you doing this ever again I wil–” 

“Rosehearts,” you interrupted, “you forget yourself. Screaming so hard you’ve turned red in the face – this is not a good way to win my hand, you know?”

He tensed up, features confused between anger and embarrassment. 

“Ace and Deuce are my friends, and they are my guards. They are doing as I wish, and is that not why you sent them to me?” 

“I- yes. Of course Your Majesty,” though he was still red in the face, he was able to answer calmly enough. 

“Good. Now, you’ve come to the library for a reason outside of scolding my guards,” you shifted topics gracefully. “What can I help you find? I know this place like the back of my hand, so I’m happy to help.”

His face shifted to full-on embarrassment now, clearly not expecting you to handle him with as much ease as you did. In front of his own people no less. 

“I wanted to see your books on equestrians,” he admitted.

With a wave of your hand, you dismissed both sets of guards and gestured for Riddle to follow you. You examined his face carefully as you guided him toward the equestrian section. He was pretty, with delicate features except for his sharp grey eyes. If his personality weren't so horrible, you might say you were attracted to him. 

“I wasn’t aware that you liked horses, Rosehearts,” you commented curiously, trying to see what you could get out of him.

“I do. I have three girls back at home,” he answered, avoiding your eyes, “do you like horses, Your Majesty?”

“I do, but not as much as you, it seems,” you teased lightly watching his face flush, “Riding was my mother's favorite hobby, and she was teaching me before she passed, but no instructor has been nearly as good as she was, so I gave up on trying.”

He stayed quiet for a long moment, seemingly conflicted on something. You watched him curiously, dangerously intrigued by what might have him so in his head. Then, he swallowed and looked into your eyes, “I could teach you. I’m told I’m the best rider in my kingdom, and I’ve been wanting to teach some classes.”

You blinked, pausing in your steps for a moment, which he followed. You could feel his nervousness build with each second you stayed silent, but you didn’t know what to say. You hadn’t expected him to offer such a thing. Perhaps it was just a way to get in good with your brother, but you were too curious now.

You smiled, “Are you trying to make up for yelling at Ace and Deuce?”

He smiled a little back at you, “Perhaps, but I would like a chance to teach someone, and I do… want to get to know you, just a bit. We are politically inclined to get along after all.”

You laughed at that, “I suppose you are right. Then, I’ll say yes to your proposal.”

He grinned, and you found yourself grinning back at him. Maybe he wasn’t so bad, just a bit uptight.

“Ah- ahem, the books are just right here,” you said suddenly, gesturing in front of you both.

“Oh, of course, right. Thank you, Your Majesty.”

“Of course.”

With a nod of your head, you dismissed yourself.

·┆✦ʚ♡ɞ✦ ┆·

After your little ‘incident’ in the library, you decided you’d like some fresh air. Just a break from the smell of old books and inhaling cloudfulls of dust. You dismissed Ace and Deuce from duty and made your way into the castle’s garden. Your mother had planted most of the flowers herself, and none of them had been the same since she passed. Somehow, they too seemed to lose most of their life without her.

As you walked, your mind began to wonder back to what you were trying to escape: the phantom in the forest. There was no historical record of them - none whatsoever. At least, not in your records, which meant one of these two things. 

1. They truly didn’t exist, at least not until recently. If this was the case, then the one in the forest was either a fear-filled hallucination or an exception to this rule. It couldn’t be a hallucination, since Epel and the man saw it too, so if anything it was an exception. Though, that didn’t make sense either, since the man seemed keenly aware of everything about it.

2. They had existed for a very long time - long enough to outage you, at least. It also means your brother had purposely removed all mentions of these things, which meant he didn’t want you or any of your staff to find out about it. This meant he knew far more than he was letting on, and he still didn’t quite trust you with this information.

You adjusted the brim of your hat – the one the man gave you in the forest, the look of it had grown on you, though you supposed it was a bit silly with all your fancy dresses. You hoped he would come back for it like he said he would, there was much you needed to discuss with him, and you’d like to catch his name this time.

Truthfully, you needed to speak with anyone who had some experience with magic – anyone but your brother, of course. The staff wouldn’t discuss magic with you they weren’t allowed to since magic was dangerous and Vil was insistent that you would hurt yourself by using it.

You picked up the pace of your walk, feeling frustrated at your helplessness. You were the second most powerful person in this kingdom, and thanks to your brother you could hardly do anything. You were growing sick and tired of his intrusion into your life.

A sickening crunch beneath your foot and a groan to your right halted you in your spot. Lifting your dress to see what you just stepped on, you frowned, turning to glare at the owner of the tail you just stepped on.

Leona Kingscholar greeted your glare with his own as if you were in the wrong.

“Why don’t you watch where yer goin’ mousey,” he grumbled.

“Why don’t you get out of my mother’s petunias!” you snapped back.

He growled but did as you said regardless. Seems he’d rather not sit through a whole lecture, which was smart on his part. You’d learned your lecturing skills from Vil.

“Why would you even be asleep here, you have a perfectly good room that my brother prepared for you.”

“Felt like it, and no one was stoppin’ me,” he replied, adding “Until now…”

“Aren’t you just charming?”

“Look who’s talkin’, you’ve got a mouth on you for a princess.”

“I do, to deal with the likes of you, of course.”

He rolled his eyes, stretching out his limbs in a manner so casual it was practically disrespectful. You have no idea why Vil was allowing this buffoon of a man to try for your hand, but you knew he had no chance in the first place. Leona was brash, rude, and downright lazy. Not exactly the perfect prince, and not the perfect life partner. 

His eyes scanned you with boredom, “Are we done here.”

You blinked at him, pondering something, and then smiling at him, “Actually… you’re a talented magician, aren’t you?”

“What of it?”

“You must know plenty about blot then?”

It was his turn to blink at you as if he was waiting for you to tell him your question was a joke. When you didn’t, he grinned so wide you could see his fangs, busting out in boisterous laughter. Your smile fell into a pout, confused as to what could be so funny. You were serious.

“You’re serious,” he asked between chuckles.

You nodded sternly.

He wiped at his eyes, “I knew your sorry excuse for a queen sheltered you, but I didn’t know it was this bad.”

You crossed your arms, frowning, “I don’t understand what’s so funny, I’m being serious.”

“Listen mousey, I’m telling you this because I don’t like your brother, but blot isn’t real. It’s made up to scare little things like you off from using it,” he finally answered, proud as a lion would be, “Start usin’ yer head instead of listening to what that lunatic you call a ruler says all the time.”

He turned to leave at that, leaving you glaring at the petunias in front of you. Before he fully walked away, he decided to shout out, “Your hat looks awful, by the way.”

You huffed, swiping the hat off your head. This whole investigating thing was going to be far more difficult than you thought it would be. Leona confirmed that blot, and phantoms, weren’t exactly common, but he gave you a million more questions to worry about.

Examining the hat in your hands, you hoped that the mysterious man would come and visit you soon. If not for your sake, for the sake of your people. 

·┆✦ʚ♡ɞ✦ ┆·

You wound up in the library once more, more frustrated than you had been before. There truly was nothing about these mysterious beasts anywhere. You’d combed over every single book over the past few weeks ten times over and still found nothing. A groan ripped its way through your mouth, echoing off the empty library walls. 

You would get nowhere with this frustration. Your only remedy was the fact that these creatures were not plenty enough to cause an immediate threat… at least, you hoped they weren't.

The door to the library creaked open, and a faint blue glow filled the dark room. You hadn’t realized how late it had gotten. This topic was consuming your life, wasn’t it?

The person at the door crept in, quietly muttering to themselves under their breath. Upon closer inspection, you realized it was Lord Idia of STYX. The blue fire of his hair was a dead giveaway. You knew the least about him out of all of the men crawling around your castle grounds.

You knew his parents were incredible magicians, and frequently played with death. You know that a curse had befallen him and his far kinder younger brother Ortho. And you knew he tended to slink around in darkness and avoid all socializing at all costs. So seeing him was quite a surprise.

He didn’t seem to see you, wandering around the shelves of books with a scowl on his face. You didn’t want to disturb him, you were tired and needed quiet too. You tried to stand from your seat quietly, but the legs of your chair squeaked.

The blue light flared up for an instant, and Idia whipped around to face you. He looked as though he was about to cry. You gave him an awkward smile, lifting your hands to show you were no threat.

“My apologies, I didn’t mean to scare you,” you quickly tried to ease.

He didn’t respond, simply staying frozen and blinking at you.

“I was just leaving, I won’t bother you,” you said, softer this time.

He relaxed a bit, still keeping the frown and wide-eyed look on his face. He watched you as you gathered your things, careful and delicate as any princess should. Quietly scooching your chair back in, and moving with all the grace in your world. You figured you’d just leave like that, but he cleared his voice behind you.

“Ah, uhm, you’ve spent a lot of time in here recently,” he said nervously.

You turned to him with a polite smile, “I have, yes. I wasn’t aware you were watching me?”

He jumped, “I-I wasn’t! I just, uhm, I notice things.”

“I’m only jesting, don’t worry.”

He relaxed again. He was more jumpy than you’d expected him to be, not very fitting of a future leader. His parents had a lot of work to do if they wanted him to succeed.

“What are you researching,” he asked quietly, almost reluctantly.

He was likely trying his hand at courting you since he was one of your suitors, but he wasn’t good at it. It was charming how clumsy he was, a nice change of pace. You chose not to tease him this time.

“It’s silly,” you admit, “Leona laughed in my face earlier about it.”

He raised an eyebrow, a hunger for knowledge in his eyes. Now, that was unexpected of him. He didn’t seem to be the type to be hungry for knowledge, but maybe you judged him wrong.

“Do you… know the stories about blot, you know the fairy tales our parents would tell us about?”

He nods.

“Well,” you sighed, feeling crazy, “what if they were real.”

You expected him to laugh. To jeer and point and call you crazy, but he doesn’t. His face seems stern, and he is completely serious.

“That’s a pretty bold claim to be making with no evidence.”

You stiffened, his attitude had completely changed. Seriousness didn’t suit him, his face wasn’t built for it, which is why it was so unsettling. He didn’t break that stare on you.

“I- You’re right. I’m just going stir-crazy, being locked up in this room can get to someone,” you quickly explained, not wanting to spend a second longer here.

As you began to leave again, he muttered something that sent chills down your spine.

“You shouldn’t go digging your nose in places it doesn’t belong.”

Swallowing thickly, you gave him a polite curtsy and mumbled your understanding, quickly stepping out of the room. To think he was being shy and sweet just a few moments ago, what an odd man.

His behavior did give you answers, however. Blot clearly did exist - obviously, since you saw it. However, this proves that it's a hidden subject, and people with power - a few of them at least - knew about it in more detail than they were willing to admit.

That just meant you had a lot more searching to do, and you had to be more careful about doing it.

#twst #twisted wonderland #twst x reader #twisted wonderland x reader #x reader #bunni's treats 🧁 #idia shroud x reader #vil schoenheit #ace trappola #deuce spade #leona kingscholar x reader #riddle rosehearts x reader #riddle rosehearts #leona kingscholar #idia shroud

[outofgloom]

THE MENDER

"You've returned! But how can this be? They said there were no survivors after the attack on New Kar. Come in, of course! Come and sit by the fire. You look terrible."

"Thanks, I...I guess I just got lucky."

"That's an understatement. We've heard reports that the islands offshore were nearly wiped clean by the battle. I can't imagine what happened to the city itself."

"It was bad--worst thing I've seen--although the forces of Lord Kalmah put up a good fight, even in his absence. I was in the central fortress when the armies of the...the--"

"--They are called the Brotherhood, I think. The Turaga says that the Great Spirit has turned his back on the Lords of Order, and so now the Brotherhood will carry out his will."

"I believe it. I mean, they came up every street--those shrieking creatures with their staffs. They must serve the...Brotherhood...as well. The soldiers stood no chance, really. Some of them even surrendered, but it didn't matter to those things."

"Best not think about it--the important thing is that you're safe! How did you get out of the city? You must tell me; what an adventure, I'm sure."

"It was! Well, to start with, I was...um...I was looking out from the walltops, and there was a huge noise and smoke in the city. The ground shook, and I ran down the steps. I think the fortress must have been struck by some power, and it collapsed all at once, and I thought I was dead. And then...and then..."

"...and then what?"

"Well, then things are a bit murky. I was alone, I think. It was night by that time. I remember stars. I was hurt badly--my arm and my side, but...but I'm not hurt now."

"Oh, are you sure you were hurt? You look good as new to me."

"I thought I was...It's the strangest thing. I must've been delirious, my mind was wandering or something, but...Say, do you remember some of the legends of New Kar?"

"Which ones? There are so many. You've sat by the Amaja more times than I have."

"I mean the ones about the Founding, back at the very start. It used to be Old Kar, right? And it was named for the being who lived there in the Before Time: Kar, the Mender."

"Oh, I do remember that one--it's a dark tale, my friend. Did you know that 'Kar' is just a shortening of...ahem...His name? The Turaga hereabouts won't even say it. I think it's a bit silly. Sometimes you stub your foot and just have to shout 'to Karzahni with it!', I say."

"Yes...yes, I know."

"But anyways, what were you saying?"

"I was saying...maybe you'll think it's silly then, after all..."

"No, no! Don't say that! I'm just glad you've come back--we were all so worried. Tell me your tale."

"Alright then, as I was lying there injured...or maybe not injured... looking at the stars, there was someone else there with me."

"So you weren't alone then? Was it another survivor?"

"Not quite...So, in the old legends, you know they say that Kar the Mender lost his way amongst the islands one day and never returned to his duty, right? But sometimes, when there is an earthquake, or a battle--something where people are hurt--they say he arrives, and ...helps them. You remember that part too?"

"Can't say I've heard that bit of the story. Maybe you're mixing it up with the one about the, uh, Wandering Toa--the Air-Toa, you know?"

"No, it's not that one, I'm sure. There were some veterans of the first War of Order who would tell stories sometimes. One of them had been left for dead on a battlefield of the Barraki, but as he was trying to crawl through the muck, he saw a figure in the distance. He said it was a giant--a titan with eyes like globes, stooping over the corpses, picking up bodies."

"And did this titan help him out?"

"No, I guess not. He survived the battle, but maybe it was just an old soldier's tale..."

"Well, tell me the rest: What did you see?"

"That's what I've been trying to say. There was...it was...He was there, in the ruins of the city."

"A giant, like the soldier said?"

"Oh, bigger than a building. I sat up and he was right there, stooping over me. I thought his eyes were great stars at first, looking down on me. He picked me up like I was nothing, and set me on my feet. He plugged my arm back into its socket, and snapped my ribs back in place, though I screamed--"

"--I thought you weren't injured."

"I...wait...no I was injured. I was! It was...I can't describe it."

"Hm."

"After that, he just stared at me for a while. I couldn't...I couldn't move at all, under those eyes."

"It was just you and this being?"

"Yes, just us."

"And then he let you go?"

"Well...I suppose so."

"You walked out of the city, right? And came back here, to safety."

"I don't think...I don't know."

"You must have! How else?"

"Yes, I...walked..."

"Well anyways, I'm so glad. We missed you, and the Turaga will be overjoyed to have another set of hands to help with the work."

"Where--"

"--The Brotherhood is making some new rules, you see, and we have to make sure the village is up to code."

"I'm...glad to help, but why--"

"--What a day you've had! But it's all behind you now. Would you like to rest?"

"I'm tired, yes. I'm tired and it...hurts."

"Oh dear, I didn't realize the time. There's no time to rest actually. The Turaga wants everyone to assemble at the--"

"Why are you doing this."

"Why...I don't understand. What do you mean?"

"Tell me why you are doing this. It hurts."

"It doesn't hurt anymore--you said so yourself."

"I do hurt. It isn't...it wasn't done right. He didn't do it...right."

"Don't say that. It was done right. And anyways, who are you to question it? The Turaga says--"

"I hurt. My arm and my side. Please stop. Let me go."

"You are just a little Matoran. You should not speak out of turn."

"My arm still isn't right, and I can't breathe well. You need to--"

"--I need to do nothing."

"Your eyes...they are too bright. They burn my eyes. I want to look away."

"How ungrateful. Why should I do anything for you...any of you. You're all wretches. I do my best work, and no thanks at all."

"Let me go. I am the last survivor of New Kar. I must tell them what happened. Surely--"

"New Kar? What a fantasy. There is no such thing. You Matoran make up such wonderful futures for yourselves in your small heads."

"No...such thing? Ah...it hurts."

"Stop that. It doesn't hurt. It's fine."

"It...doesn't hurt. I have to go--"

"No, you are here now. You always have been. You have nowhere to go but here."

"Your eyes...they burn me."

"Oh my, are your eyes bothering you?"

"Yes, yes, they are."

"Ah, how terrible. But you are fortunate: mending eyes is a specialty of mine."

"Please, what can be done?"

"You are broken, little Matoran. What a shame. The whole world is broken. Every fiber and sinew of it, every wasted rock and stone, every cursed breath of wind, ah...I can barely stand it."

"Please."

"Every dead star-rise and every pointless shift of the gray tide..."

"Oh, please."

"Broken from the start, useless from the start. By the Great Beings, it should all be put to rest--"

"--Please, I am broken."

"Oh, of course you are. But don't worry--not for long. Now, stand still, and let's try this again..."

Please

I am broken

"--and try not to scream so much this time. It distracts me."

Please

I am broken

Mend me

#bionicle #art #writing #outofgloom #fanfiction #karzahni #works

[goingbuggy]

When you have time I would LOVE to hear your thoughts about post time skip buggy!!

Hi, anon! Sorry for the late-ish reply. I thought carefully about how I wanted to reply, but alas, here I am again, starting my metas in the strangest places. Anyways, here’s a seemingly unimportant question: Why is it funny that Buggy keeps failing upwards?

My answer also happens to be one of Pixar's 22 Rules of Storytelling:

"Coincidences to get characters into trouble are great; coincidences to get them out of it are cheating."

You might be wondering why I chose this quote -- after all, Buggy manages to escape most conflicts by sheer coincidence. Take the canon-filler episode(s) “Little Buggy's Big Adventure,” for example; coincidence is the sole reason why he ends up on Gaimon’s island and eventually finds Alvida, one of his future allies. But for as much as Oda is guilty of using coincidences to benefit Buggy, he also creates coincidences to get Buggy into trouble. Sure, Buggy left on good terms with Gaimon/found Alvida, but only after:

Suffering a humiliating defeat at the hands of Luffy

Losing most of his body

Being chased by killer fish/eaten by a ginormous bird

Nearly getting shot in the head by Gaimon over a misunderstanding

Being chased AGAIN by a deadly crab???? LMAO???

Buggy’s “luck” functions like a pendulum -- for every good thing that happens to him, horrible things are guaranteed to follow. This core aspect of his character is what keeps the gag afloat. Buggy is never rewarded by the narrative without experiencing consequences. In order to earn moments of respite, he has to suffer.

I find it hilarious when people argue that Buggy doesn’t deserve to have good things happen to him. Because, yeah? Duh. Oda loves having his cake and eating it too. It’s not necessarily good to play both sides with the audience when it can cheapen emotional impact, but Oda will absolutely continue to make Buggy both a complete joke and a genuine character. He has fun that way. However, he’s not going to help Buggy without hurting him first.

But that's a very meta perspective. How does Buggy view his own beneficial coincidences? He’s now an emperor, and extremely close to the One Piece/Pirate King title that he so desperately wants. But why does he think he’s being rewarded, in-universe?

His facade.

His devoted followers, his influence, that billion-berry bounty, his emperor status -- all of it stems from his fake persona and its snowball effect. He’s well aware of this. In fact, I think it’s likely that he hates himself for being such a coward and hiding behind lies. But when he sees his true self as worthless, what else can he do except dig himself into a deeper hole?

Look at 1082. Buggy finally stands up for himself, claiming that wealth and power come from chasing after your dreams -- not grand schemes. Here, he’s talking to himself as much as he’s talking to Crocodile and Mihawk.

“This is wrong… This isn’t how I wanted my life to go…”

It’s a very depressing peek at the man behind the curtain. Buggy only ever wanted to follow his dreams, but he uses schemes to get ahead instead, because they're all he thinks he has. His lies are a crutch to depend on, so he doesn't have to face the truth: he doesn't believe in himself. 

To me, 1082 reads as a "Hail Mary" moment from a character at an emotional low. Buggy still doesn't believe in himself, but he is saying: Fuck it. If Shanks and I finally have an equal chance at becoming Pirate King, I at least have to try... Right? We can confirm his lack of self-confidence, because Buggy even admits he got here by “luck or chance or whatever."

He cannot entertain the possibility that he'd get this far any other way. Of course he doesn't see himself as Shanks' equal. It’s one of many reasons he didn’t want to go with Shanks at Loguetown; he assumed he’d be working “under” Shanks (even though Shanks only said “Come with me!"), because he truly believes he is lesser in terms of potential/greatness. ("You coward!" can also be interpreted as Buggy projecting his own insecurities onto Shanks.) Buggy's decision in 1082 is a desperate leap of faith. "Go for broke," "shoot for the moon," etc.

Post-Timeskip Buggy may appear more dangerous than ever before, but in reality, he’s just a small fish in a big pond. The farther he crawls his way up the ladder of success, the worse he feels, because the life he has built is not how he wanted to live at all. Based on everything we've known about Pre-Timeskip Buggy, we should expect him to be happier than ever. He has influence. Power. His monetary value in the eyes of the World Government has shot up exponentially. But look at the poor guy. He's miserable.

If you've ever seen Better Call Saul, I think this scene from S4E9 is very similar to how I feel about Buggy:

JIMMY: There you go! Kick a man when he’s down! KIM: Jimmy, you are always down.

Buggy is a character who is always down, even when you think he might be up. Until he stops maintaining that false image, he will always be punished by the narrative pendulum he's trapped himself in.

Unfortunately, change is hard, especially with the stakes he’s currently facing. If Buggy actually has to fight Blackbeard, Luffy, or Shanks... he can’t. Not alone. He needs people to believe the facade, because that's what got him here in the first place. He may look invincible, but he is quite possibly the most vulnerable character right now.

Crocodile and Mihawk would sell him to Satan for one corn chip (especially after that stunt he pulled in 1082). We haven't seen him improve his physical abilities (unless Oda pulls some off-screen bullshit). As an emperor, he has more people gunning for his head than ever before. Buggy’s last line of defense is his long-running gag -- if Oda decides to subvert our expectations, he’s a dead man walking.

And who would he have to blame but himself? He built his image on smoke and mirrors. Eventually, he's going to have to pay the price.

If Pre-Timeskip Buggy is a man defined by coincidence, then Post-Timeskip Buggy is defined by consequence.

#but that's just a theory... a game #ok im normal now #anyways this is just my particular take on his character #i'd love to hear your thoughts too anon #i'm his lawyer though if anyone says they hate him i'm suing them for defamation #joke. unless..? #buggy #ask #buggy the clown #one piece #op buggy #long post #op meta #one piece meta #meta #character analysis #akagami no shanks #red haired shanks #shanks #cross guild #dracule mihawk #crocodile

[a-cosmic-elf]

Tales from The Viewport

a Starfield ficlet by a cosmic elf.

*contains spoilers for ng+*

“Hey, new here, huh? I can tell. Welcome to New Atlantis. I’m Nyssa, bartender here at The Viewport.

“Take a seat. Can I getcha something? I recommend a New Arrival, warm and sweet, with a little kick at the end to combat jump sickness. Just don’t ask for the recipe. It’s a family secret.

“Heading to the MAST district? I recommend avoiding the area; I hear there’s been some trouble up at The Lodge...

“It all began with the arrival of the strangest ship you’ve ever seen. Jim, the Service Tech at the port, said he nearly filled his flight suit when that thing landed!

“The next thing we know, there’s a shoot out at The Lodge, you know, Constellation’s HQ, heard of those guys? Well, sadly, you’re not likely to anymore.

“Security cordoned off the area and are staying pretty tight-lipped about what went down. But the word on the street is the entire place is abandoned. The members of Constellation have vanished! Not a single trace of them, only a handful of dead Va’ruun Zealots, can you imagine? Zealots, here, in New Atlantis!

“A strange ship, and House Va’runn, you can’t tell me those two things aren’t connected. *phew* that was one crazy day!

“I hope those guys at Constellation are okay. Hey, you didn’t hear it from me, but a UC Sec pilot told me their starstation is empty, too. It’s all too spooky for my tastes.

“And just when you think it can’t be any more bizarre, the owner of that ship strolled right into this very bar and hired this guy, Simeon; I believe that’s his name. He agreed to board that ship! That’s one brave guy, I don’t think I would have done it. He must have been very keen to get out of town for some reason.

“Aaanyway, never a dull day in New Atlantis, there’s always something going on. If you see anything else suspicious, I recommend telling security.

“And stay away from anyone in odd-looking spacesuits. Who knows where that Simeon guy is going to end up. I don’t know why they let that ship land in the first place. Just what was that security patrol in orbit thinking? Biggest case of ‘not my job’, if you ask me.

“I hope you enjoy your stay. Let me know if you need a refill.”

#starfield #starfield fanfiction #ficlet #starfield spoilers #nyssa marcano #starfield au #house va'ruun #starborn #i’ve been playing this Au all weekend and I don't think that like it lol #feels so strange with constellation gone #there’re all dead dave #i’m heading to the unity and re-roll #the fourth starborn suit is so amazing but that’s the only thing this play through has going for it #good fodder for fic though #so many questions

[draco-dormiens]

THE STRANGEST OF PLACES - Chapter Three

draco x fem!ravenclaw reader / postwar au series

warnings: conversation has sexual themes towards the end, strong language, alcohol, the characters are 18 in this story fyi :)

wc: 3906

masterlist

pls let me know if you want to be tagged!! tags below:

@slyth3rin-princess @lovesanimals0000 @cappgyuccino @lightning1ce @onlygetaway @honeyyypeach

Chapter Three - Christmas

Christmas Day Draco woke to another silent house. Through the curtains he saw snow hurtling down, a small heap pressed up against the window. As used to being alone as he was, your invitation had played on his mind ever since you left. If you asked because you felt sorry for him, then he'd rather you laugh in his face about how pathetic his life was instead. There was nothing Draco hated more than acts of sympathy, mostly because he was so sick of them. People would assume he needed comfort, or that he needed their company, but he had built himself a wall and he was perfectly happy staying alone within it. (Or so he had trained himself to believe, anyway)

He dressed himself and headed down the stairs, a Merry Christmas from the house elf along the way and stood by the tree to observe the gifts beneath it. His mother had left a note with his name on and several neatly wrapped gifts. He sat crossed legged on the floor and began reading his mother's note.

Merry Christmas, my dear. We hope you like your gifts. Wish you were here. Mother x

A smile crept across his face, putting the card down and ripping the first few open. It was the usual stuff, his favourite cologne, cauldron cakes, a knitted green jumper, new shoes, new suit, even a bottle of fire whiskey. He popped the cork out and sniffed the amber looking liquid, and suddenly a wave of memories came rushing back from his time at school, before all the madness and heartache. The first night he got drunk, he was almost sixteen, at the end of his fifth year. Himself, Blaise Zabini, Crabbe, Goyle and Pansy Parkinson snuck out into the night to drink and smoke cigarettes. He got so plastered that him and Pansy ended up in his private dorm room and one thing led to another. Does he regret it? He didn't really know. But Pansy thought that it meant they were destined for each other and became even clinger than normal after that. He took a swig of it and exhaled after, tasting the bitter, sugary substance on his lips. He kept sipping away at it as he opened the rest, and then took himself, the whiskey, and a box of cauldron cakes to the one drawing room he liked. With a flick of his wand, the fire was lit, and he plopped himself down on the couch for a long day of nothingness. After nearly half the bottle of fire whiskey and a tray of cauldron cakes, he started wondering what you might be doing right now, and then cursed himself out loud for even thinking it.

Your Christmas morning was very different. Draco had crossed your thoughts when you woke, but your mother had soon taken your mind off it when she burst through the bedroom door in a Santa hat and a hot cup of tea. The morning went by like it usually did in your house, presents, your younger siblings arguing over what the other one got (they get the exact same thing), and then a slap-up Christmas dinner and midday nap for your father. Being a muggle, he was huge fan of muggle alcohol, and kept a rather stocked up stash when it was Christmas. He'd drunk three glasses of wine before 12:30 and passed out in his armchair with a paper crown on his head from a cracker. You loved Christmas. It was about family, friendship, and the act of giving. Hermione had sent some peppermint toads and a Christmas card from her family, and Luna had crafted you a beaded necklace with your initial dangling from it. They should have opened their home baked cookies you had gifted them by now. After resting your stomachs for a while, you helped your mother wash the dishes as the rest of the house slept peacefully, a muggle Christmas movie going unwatched on the TV.

"So, how is that project of yours coming along?" your mother asks, "getting on with your partner?"

"He's fine," you tell her, drying off a dinner plate, "he's really stubborn and argumentative, likes everything his way and his way only, but apart from that he's okay. I think we're sort of friends at this point, but it's hard to tell with him."

"Oh my," your mother laughs, "he sounds like a treat. What's his name, again?"

"It's Draco. Draco Malfoy."

She froze for a moment, and you saw from the corner of your eye. She began scrubbing away again.

"I'm familiar," she tells you, looking across and smiling, "can't say I have that much of an opinion."

"I'm going to guess it's the same as everyone else's," you chuckle, "I'm not the biggest fan, but he seems to be mellowing a little since we started on the project."

"Maybe that's your influence," your mother nudges you, "you have that effect on people."

"Well, he complains at me a lot, so I doubt it. He's just one big mystery, I know nothing about him apart from that his parents leave him alone at Christmas."

"He's alone today?" your mother exclaims, passing you a soapy tray to dry, "that's awful. Did you invite him over?"

"I asked but I think I just made him feel awkward," you said, cringing at how shocked he looked, "we're only just getting on with one another."

You mother fell quiet for a second, and then left momentarily and returned with a wrapped present.

"Here," she says, handing it over to you with her yellow-gloved hand, "take this to him."

"What? I can't do that," you shake your head, looking at her like she'd just asked for your presents back, "we don't know each other well enough for me to just turn up at his doorstep, on Christmas."

"But he's alone, darling," you mother says softly, "and as a family, we never leave one out, even if they've made bad choices in the past. Go. Take them to him. It's only chocolates."

You sigh, knowing that it was a nice gesture. You wouldn't have to stay long, just take the chocolates, wish him well, and come home. It was an easy enough task.

"Fine," you say, taking the gift, "I'll be back soon. Thanks, mum."

Malfoy Manor looked as daunting as ever in the early evening dusk and white sheet of snow. It stood, grey and foreboding, with one light on in a top left window. You stood for a while contemplating whether this was a good idea, taking a few steps forward and then shuffling back.

"Just knock on the door, hand it over, and leave," you tell yourself, "It's just a nice gesture."

Taking a deep breath, you walked up to the doors and knocked. After a few minutes, the tiny house elf appeared at your feet. He smiled brightly.

"Merry Christmas, miss Y/L/N," he said, "are you here to see Master Malfoy?"

"Well, actually, I suppose you could pass these-"

"Y/L/N?"

You look up from the elf to see Draco stood just behind, dressed in his green hoodie and sweatpants. His hair is little more tousled than normal, and he's holding an empty cauldron cake box.

"Draco," you say, "I was just dropping this off for you."

He pads over to you, and the elf moves out of his way, but not before he shoves the empty packet into the elf's tiny arms.

"You bought me a gift?" He says, taking the box from your hands and eyeing the wrapping paper.

"I just thought, as you're alone today, you might like to see a familiar face," you tell him as he unwraps the bow from around the box, "even if it's mine."

He removes the packaging to reveal a box of chocolates, and the ghost of a smile curls at the corner of his mouth. Of course, he had lots of girls give him presents in the past, lots of secret admirers and heart shaped gifts, especially at Christmas. But this was different, this was an act of kindness and selflessness, and it was for him. He didn't understand why, but you were here, and suddenly he didn't feel so alone anymore.

"Thanks," he said, looking up at you and smiling a bit more, "that was, uh, real nice of you. You didn't have to."

"I wanted to," you shrug your shoulders, "I should probably get going. Merry Christmas, Draco."

"Wait," he calls, and you turn back to see him awkwardly stood in the doorway. That sounded far too eager, he thought, "do you want to come in for a bit? I can't offer you much, just tea. Think there's some cake somewhere. And we have these."

He held up the box of chocolates, and there was a hopeful glint in his eyes that you would say yes, although if you mentioned that he'd probably throw the box at you and slam the door in your face.

"Sure," you agree, thankful as the cold had started making your toes numb, "tea sounds great."

He took you inside and you walked through the now familiar corridors to the drawing room you first met him in, the fireplace roaring and empty boxes of cauldron cakes on the coffee table, along with an empty bottle of fire whiskey.

"Sorry about the mess," he says, quickly gathering up the rubbish, "I just sort of like cauldron cakes."

"Seems that way," you giggle, taking off your coat and basking in the heat of the fire, "is that all you've eaten today? And the whiskey, have you had any water?"

He stopped what he was doing and looked across at you warming yourself in front of the fire. The outfit you had on was nice, he thinks, but he physically shook his head to rid the thought. I need to slow down on the whiskey. You seemed so casual about asking him, like you were his mother or something, and it wasn't the first time you'd made him think of her, either.

"I uh, well, I haven't had time."

"Haven't had time?" you said, spinning to scold him directly, "Draco, just because it's Christmas doesn't mean you shouldn't eat properly. You need to eat some proper food."

He begins to grin, really grin, and it was strange but nice to see. It even made you smile back.

"What?"

"Have you come here to tell me off, Y/L/N?"

"No, of course I haven't," you defend yourself, going over to him and taking some of the rubbish from his hands, "and I don't tell you off, I inform."

He just keeps grinning, and you can't help thinking how nice his smile is. You look down at the empty whiskey bottle in your hand and contemplate knocking yourself out for a few hours.

"C'mon," he says, and you look back up at his smiling face, "I'll make us some tea."

Time seemed to go by so quickly from the minute you got there. You drank tea in his favourite drawing room whilst the fire burned away, played a game of chess, and after a glass or two of water, cracked open a bottle of wine and began drinking it. It was expensive wine, but Draco said that his mother had so much of it that it was almost a waste not to drink it. The entire time you were thinking about going home, but each time you thought about it the less you wanted to go. The wine was good, and surprisingly, so was the company. Draco was turning out to not be as tightly wound as you previously thought, especially with some wine in him.

"That is not how to you play this game," he slurs, glass half full in his hand, two almost empty wine bottles on the side. You giggle, and it's so infectious he can't help himself, and you know you've never been this drunk before, not even on your eighteenth birthday party.

"S-shut up," you hiccup through your laughter, trying to line the cue up with the ball on the pool table, "I know what I'm doing Malfoy, just w-watch."

You go to hit the ball and completely miss, breaking down into a fit of laughter, and so does he, and it's so refreshing to see someone who is always miserable laugh like that. He makes his way over to you, putting down the wine glass and taking your arms from behind.

"Look like this," he tries to show you how to hold it, chest pressed against your back but far too drunk to even care, "hold it like this, and then try."

He tries aiming you, but it fails miserably, and you both end up in another fit of laughter. You drop the cue, but Draco stays behind you, and your head falls back against his shoulder.

"You're so funny," you tell him, gasping for air as you did so. His laughter dies down, but you're still giggling to yourself.

"You think so?" he asks you, and you turn around, face an inch away from his and your cheeks are rosy and eyes hazy from the wine. You're pretty. He thinks you're pretty. Or does the wine think you're pretty? He didn't know right now. He was running on cauldron cakes, chocolates, whiskey, and wine. Oh, and some bread that you made him eat.

"Y-yeah," you hiccup again, "like, I find you really annoying but I kind of like it when you laugh. Is that weird? That's weird, right?"

"No," he shakes his head, feeling so dizzy he just might collapse, "I mean, I don't think it's weird? Is it weird that I think you're really pretty tonight?"

His words register slowly in your mind, and suddenly you feel a lot more sober, remembering you'd just said that you like it when he laughs.

"Woah," you chuckle breathlessly, pushing him away slightly for some space, "I think we've drank too much. My mum is going to murder me."

He starts to understand his words himself, and then repeating what you had said about his laugh, and his stomach does a small flip, and he thinks he might vomit.

"Yeah, way too much," he agrees, stepping away and leaning against the wall, "we should call it a night. Can you make it home?"

"Oh shit," you grumble, holding your stomach because of the nausea, "I cannot apparate like this, I'll be violently ill."

Draco runs a hand down his face. The room is practically spinning.

"You can stay in one of the spare rooms," he manages to get out, not without having to hold his head to stop the spiralling, "I have some clothes you can borrow."

You just nod, tired and drunk and in need of a toilet right now. You can explain to your mother tomorrow, when you're not wanting to throw up over a pool table that probably cost a million Galleons.

The room he gives to you is so neat and tidy you feel bad about using it, but it had a toilet to empty your guts into and water from the sink. After some serious glugs of water and a few moments over the toilet seat, you start to feel a bit better. Draco had disappeared for some time, doing the exact same thing, but he was standing over of his private bathroom sink after vomiting up everything he had digested that day. He looked across at the clock on the side. 1:30am. That's how long you had been there drinking with him. It had only felt like a few hours.

"Fuck," he mumbles to himself, looking up at his reflection. You'd only come to hand over a gift, and now you were being sick in his guest bathroom. He kept thinking about calling you pretty, and each time he feels like lurching again. How utterly embarrassing, he barely knows you.

"Merlin, I'm pathetic," he says to himself, pulling away from the sink and taking a few deep breaths. He heads towards your room and knocks on the door gently, and soon after it clicks open and you appear, looking much more yourself.

"Better?" he asks, and you just nod in relief.

"So much better," you sigh, "are you?"

"I'm just so hungry now," he says, and you laugh at his answer.

"Snacks?" you suggest, "I think I might need something to dry up the wine."

"Sounds good," he said, gesturing for you to follow him, "and I know the best place to eat them."

Draco's pantry is like a muggle supermarket. You tell him this, but it goes unappreciated. You both take an armful of biscuits, crackers, cheese, and Christmas cake, followed by a more sensible choice of pumpkin juice. He takes you to the very top floor of the house and into a room that you think is going to be the attic but ends up being like the Astronomy tower at Hogwarts. There's a giant window in the roof and all you can see is stars, moonlight shining in and casting a beautiful light across the room. It was breathtaking.

"I can't believe you have a place like this in your house," you say, putting down the snacks on the floor as Draco pulls out a huge blanket and lays it on the ground, "the best I have is my bedroom window."

"This is my favourite place," he admits, sitting down and patting the space beside him, which you take happily, "I come here a lot to think."

He screws open a pumpkin juice for you, and you take it with a thank you, as he begins opening all the snack packets and previewing each one as he did so. As he's munching and opening, you just stare up at the black sky with little white specs across it. It's all so far away, and you wonder who might be looking back at you and not knowing it. They might just think they're looking up at the stars, too.

"Thinking hard?" Draco asks, breaking your thoughts.

"I was just thinking how big the world is, you know?" you tell him, "Like, all those little specs in the sky are something, and we're just here. Looking up at them. A small piece in a big puzzle."

Draco looks across at you staring up at the sky, and even with less wine in his system, he thinks you're pretty when the moonlight hits your face, and that outfit is cute.

"That was deep," he says, and you look across at him with a glint in your eye.

"I like being philosophical," you said, "can't handle the truth of the universe, Malfoy?"

He laughs, and then takes a sip of his juice.

"You know, you're the last person I'd imagine bringing up here."

You scoff, but you're still smiling.

"Gee, thanks."

"That wasn't a jab," he chuckles, "I just meant that a week ago we hardly knew one another."

"I guess we don't know all that much now." You admit, looking back up at the ceiling. He peers across at you, and for a little while, he just looks. How much a week can change is truly unbelievable.

"What do you want to know?" he asks you, and he gains your attention once more.

"What do you mean?"

"About me," he elaborates, "what do you want to know about me?"

You stare back at him, but this time you really look at his features. His eyes are a grey, blue colour, and his hair is so unnaturally white he could have bleached it. His jaw was sharp, like his nose, but he was overall quite handsome. Minus his awful attitude sometimes, he was quite a catch.

"Have you ever loved anyone?" you find yourself asking him, and you aren't entirely sure why. Were you curious if the great Draco Malfoy has ever been in love, or were you asking because the wine was still very much in your bloodstream? Either way, he seemed to really think on it.

"No, I don't think so," he answers quietly, looking up at the stars, "I've been with a few girls, but not really had a girlfriend in my eighteen years, so I'd say no."

"Not even Pansy Parkinson?"

He laughs. A genuine belly laugh, and the sound makes your heart feel happy.

"Merlin, no," he says as he calms down, "she was a friend if anything, we hooked up once but that was it. I don't even see her anymore."

"You slept with Parkinson?"

"Yeah?" he says casually, "what? I'm not exactly proud of it. She was my first."

This time you belly laughed.

"Seriously?" you say, and he just nods as he sips his drink, and then wipes his mouth on his sleeve.

"Alright, now you know mine, who's yours?"

You fell quiet and began to play with the rim of your pumpkin juice bottle. Should you tell him? You weren't entirely sure you could trust him yet, but when you looked back at him, there was something that told you he wasn't going to blab it to the entire school.

"A muggle guy," you admit shyly, expecting him to scold you to the ends of the earth, but instead he just hums and drinks his juice.

"A muggle, huh?" he says, "was he, like, your boyfriend?"

You could tell he was uncomfortable asking you that because the label on the pumpkin juice bottle just became interesting to him.

"No, he wasn't my boyfriend. I have muggle friends who don't know anything about this world, and it was one of them. He was sweet. It was at my seventeenth."

Draco just nods.

"I was fifteen."

"Huh?" you almost spit out your drink, but Draco seems unphased.

"Well, I was almost sixteen. It was just before the summer of our fifth year."

You wipe your mouth on a nearby napkin.

"I don't know why I'm surprised, really," you said, "you do have a reputation."

"For being a dick?"

"Yep."

He just bites his lower lip, smiling as he did so. You caught him doing it, and your eyes fell to where his pearly whites sunk into the flesh of his lip. Was this guy attractive or were you still drunk?

"You've changed, though," you say quickly, and his eyes fall on yours again, "you're still an arse, but this last week I've seen you change. It's good."

Draco doesn't say anything for a moment, but he's looking at you and his eyes are dancing across your features and the moonlight is reflecting in them and if this was anyone else the situation would have been romantic.

"I don't want to be the person everyone thinks I am," he confesses to you, his eyes still locked on yours, "I don't want to be the person you think I am. The other day, when you threw that stupid drawing into the fire, that was the nicest shit anyone has ever done for me. Can you believe that?"

You just listen, absentmindedly leaning towards him as you do so. He continues.

"People don't know but I find socialising really tiring and awkward, especially if its genuine, and honestly I just want someone to hang out with. That's how sad I am."

"I don't think that's sad," you say softly, and his eyes are on yours and you're closer and he smells so good and you realise, that was no Amortentia, that's just how delicious Draco smells, "besides, we're buds now, right?"

He chuckles deeply, taking those grey eyes away and putting them back on the sky above you.

"Yeah, we're buds now," he agrees, looking down at you through the corner of his eyes, "and you're not bothered what your other friends might think."

"Why would I be?" you say, "you're not the devil, Draco. Anyway, I get to choose who I'm buds with."

"You're not half bad, you know that Y/L/N?"

You sit up a little straighter and look him up and down playfully.

"Neither are you, Malfoy. And call me Y/N, yeah?"

He smiles and forces some air through his nose.

"Y/N," he repeats, "alright then."

disclaimer: i do not own hp or any of the characters in this story

dividers from: @firefly-graphics & @happy-ash-edits

#draco malfoy #draco #draco x reader #draco x y/n #draco x you #draco x ravenclaw!reader #draco x female reader #draco malfoy x you #draco malfoy x reader #draco malfoy x y/n #draco malfoy x female reader #draco lucius malfoy #draco fanfiction #harry potter #harry potter fanfiction #hpff

[wellpresseddaisy]

Use Any Means part 10

If he was asked, years later, what he’d eaten for dinner the night he met Mr. Du, Percy Weasley would be completely incapable of answering. He remembered it as one of the better meals he’d eaten in several weeks (mostly as it wasn’t hastily eaten cafeteria sandwiches), but the contents remained a mystery. Hermione shattered his concentration on his dinner companions by sending a note down to the dining room right before the cheese course. He unfolded it and tried to focus on the words:

Percy,

Ron just told me that he forgot to mention one important point from last year. Umbridge forced Harry to write lines with a blood quill for much of the year. You can come up and see the scars if you feel the need to verify this.

Hermione

Percy rose without even thinking about it.

“I’m terribly sorry, but I think I need to speak with Miss Granger immediately.”

“Of course, Mr. Weasley,” Mr. Du sounded amused for some reason as he rang for a footman. “Ah, Reynolds, could you take Mr. Weasley up to the day room, please?”

Percy followed the young footman uout of the room, his mother’s

“He isn’t usually so distracted, Mr. Du, although I know he hasn’t been eating or sleeping properly. I…oh yes, this would do it. I’ll show you, Mr. Du, but you’ll have to remain calm.”

trailing out the room behind them.

Did she know? Did everyone know? He’d worked so hard to protect his family over the last year, once he worked out what the Minister wanted. He knew before that awful argument, but who else could get information out? He got the position he did  because Fudge thought he was a useful naif and he could organize a schedule like nobody’s business. Did the Minister know what Dolores had been up to at Hogwarts? Or had he sent her there to be rid of her simpering for a year? Percy could never quite tell where things stood between them, honestly. Fudge seemed to lean on her in the strangest ways when she was at the Ministry. Without her, he seemed almost normal. Percy had just about got him to admit to You-Know-Who’s return privately when that mess at the Ministry happened.

The clean-up alone gave him the headache. Writing a statement for Fudge and handling his own feelings on the matter nearly had him down with migraine. He still couldn’t quite believe they’d lost Sirius Black. Sirius, who had been his only link, who wrote him the letter that started him collecting information for the Order. Percy didn’t know what he would have done without Sirius’ encouragement during some of those dark days. Sirius understood estrangement from one’s family and just how much it hurt, even when it was a necessary evil. As if he hadn’t see through the Minister’s ulterior motives in thirty seconds. He’d helped raise Fred and George, for Merlin’s sake. If he missed something that transparent then he deserved what he got.

He just wished he could have saved his mother some heartache. She worked so hard to keep hearth and home together and he’d…best not go down that road now. That road led to weeping into a teacup and far more mucus than one should have to handle in a day. Bill and Charlie each sent a howler that he still blushed to remember. As Sirius said, sometimes you simply had to do what needed doing and pay the price later. He could carry his family’s anger with him as long as he needed to if it kept them safe. That was all he wanted and what did it get him? His brother and sister rushing into peril (again) and Harry tortured for a year before losing his godfather.

Why the hell hadn’t Sirius flooded him? He’d told the man and told the man that if anything kicked off at the Ministry he was to know first. He could have…perhaps he could have stopped some of it. Perhaps he could have kept Sirius out of it or Ron or Hermione from being so horribly injured. They’d mocked him as a perfect, but he knew the value of a querulously official tone. People might think one weak, but that was how one claimed the element of surprise. If he’d known about Dolores…did Ron truly think he’d allow that sort of thing to go on? Did he believe Percy would allow a child his mother claimed as one of her own (a young man his brother claimed as brother) to be grievously injured? To be tortured?

Percy had worked himself into such an affronted lather by the time Reynolds coughed discreetly and said,

“The day room, Mr. Weasley.”

that he forgot all decorum and slammed the door open.

“How dare you keep something like this to yourself, Ronald Bilius?” he thundered.

Gone was Pompous Perfect Prefect Percy who couldn’t get anyone to mind him. This was pure enraged elder brother, like Charlie’s big hand landing on your shoulder as he growled ‘You’re knicked, sunshine’ or Bill’s incredibly weary ‘Right then, could you run me through your thoroughly asinine plan one more time, please’. Ron straightened up from his sideways slump on the sofa with a horrified squeak. Percy watched as he scrambled among Hermione’s books, trying to right the mess his sudden shift created.

“I can certainly promise you that the minute you turn seventeen I’m hunting up Great Grand Aunt Viola’s hairbrush. What would ever make you think to keep actual torture a secret?”

He heard Reynolds choke on a laugh as he closed the door. They’d certainly give the Servants’ Hall something to talk about tonight.

“What on earth…” Hermione finished rescuing her books and stacked them on the side table.

“And you, Miss Granger. I expected more sense from you.” He scolded.

“You’re the one who wrote that letter!” Ron protested, standing to square up with him.

When had his little brother shot up like that?

“Which I expected you to see straight through! I taught you about ulterior motives when you were four, Ronald. I thought you might remember.”

“Ulterior…” Ron’s voice trailed off as he thought. “You utter prat!”

“Do you really think I wouldn’t see straight through Fudge and Umbridge’s machinations? Fred and George had more guile in their little fingers when they were three than those two have ever managed between them. Of course I saw through it. The best I could do was make you angry enough to stop speaking to me, all of you. Although I had some hopes my brother wouldn’t be a complete idiot about it.”

Ron spluttered something, probably something foul which Percy decided he didn’t need to know, while Hermione looked thoughtful.

“You’ve been sending information to the Order, haven’t you?” she asked.

“Mr. Black,” Percy confirmed.

“I thought you were so wrapped up in the Minister that you’d never lift a finger to help.” Ron admitted.

“I could have tried. With Dolores at Hogwarts I was slowly bringing Fudge around. Next time you decide to form an extracurricular fighting force, could you possibly let me know? I could have had him laughing the whole thing off and not attempting to arrest Dumbledore.” Percy suddenly felt every single hour of overtime he’d worked.

“Then you shouldn’t have been such a berk at Harry’s trial.” Ron muttered.

Percy stifled the urge to remind Ron who taught him how to use a fork.

“I wasn’t at Harry’s trial. Dolores suggested that I would have trouble with impartiality so I spent that morning reorganizing the filing system.”

“But Harry saw you there as a clerk. You hardly even looked at him.”

Percy’s mind whirred. Could someone have…one wasn’t perhaps as careful in the Ministry, at work, as one might be elsewhere. He could have shed some hair and it could have been used in Polyjuice, he supposed.

“This has suddenly become a touch more complicated.”

“Do you believe us about the blood quill?” Hermione asked.

“Of course I believe you. You’re none of you liars and it’s exactly like Dolores.”

“Then sit down a minute and have a cup of tea or something. Mum’s right—you look peaky.” Ron slouched to a sideboard and poured a cup of tea.

Hermione stared until he moved to an easy chair across from the sofa and sank into it. A side table scuttled over to park itself by his arm rest. He patted it absently. Ron brought his tea over and then went back to the sofa. Merlin but he felt like a perfect again, dealing with miscreants.

“Now, from the beginning, please. What happened between Harry and Dolores?”

“And you’ll look at Harry’s hand?” Ron pressed.

‘I’ll look at Harry’s hand, I promise you.”

“We, er…” Hermione sighed, looking a bit chagrined. “The truth is I used my injury from the Ministry to guilt Harry into giving up the memories of his detentions. Madame Pomfrey took them for us and sealed them so you know they haven’t been tampered with. He’ll probably be put out with us, but we can give them to you, if you think you’ll need proof.”

“I’m going to the Minister directly after this,” Percy said. “It’s a bit delicate now, with the blood quill and Harry being the Black Duke, but I’ll talk Fudge around. The memories will help. Now, from the beginning.”

He fixed Ron and Hermione with a Look and they began talking.

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

Ron fiddled with the tea set at the sideboard for a moment before pouring himself a cup. He felt like a complete and utter juggins, not trusting Percy. He should have known, should have read that letter again instead of pitching it onto the fire in a rage. He throat hurt from all the talking. Percy took them over and over and over the year before he produced a dictaquill from his breast pocket and set it on parchment, making them say everything over again. Even feeling as he did, knowing Percy had everything under as much control as he could have him a sense of relief. He’d just wanted someone to do something about…about the whole terrible year they’d endured. All the decrees and the Quidditch ban and Harry bleeding everywhere all the time and Umbridge’s smug, today face every time she made one of them hurt. He should have tried to trust Percy.

Wasn’t Percy the one who was always there to help? Bill and Charlie were brilliant, but they weren’t interested in little brothers much. Percy had helped Mum and kept him entertained and taught him all sorts of things. And he repaid that by taking a leaf from Fred and George’s book as soon as he could.

“Ron, please stop fidgeting and come sit. They sent up a plate of sandwiches.”

Ron sighed and brought tea over to the sofa for both of them. He felt awash with it now, but he wanted to be awake just in case Harry woke earlier than expected. Sandwiches might help.

“What did Percy mean about finding your great grand aunt’s hairbrush when you turn seventeen?” Hermione asked suddenly.

Ron choked on his ham and cheddar.

“You can’t just go asking people things like that over sandwiches, Hermione!” he protested once he cleared his windpipe of crumbs.

“You aren’t people; you’re Ron.” Hermione bit into an egg and cress daintily.

“You could have waited until I swallowed,” he complained.

“Well?”

“It’s just…” Ron stopped and stared down at his plate. “You know magical society think my family is strange, yeah?”

“I didn’t think it was everyone.”

“I reckon it is, about, at least in the Hogwarts set. It isn’t just Dad or the Burrow being what it is. It’s…Mum and Dad have never hit us.”

“That’s strange?”

Her tone suggested it shouldn’t be strange, but Ron kept staring at his lap.

“You know how old fashioned people can be. I know loads of people at Hogwarts wouldn’t dare behave at home how they will at school. Bet they catch hell for it, though. Someone’s always going to tell, especially if it'll get them out of trouble.”

“And your parents don’t…Ron that isn’t strange at all. My parents have never laid hands on me, either.”

“It is in this world.” Ron gestured to the room. “Here your parents…they don’t own you, but there’s a lot more allowed. The magical world left the non-magical one when physical punishment was normal and…and considered the right thing to do for the good of one’s soul. Dad got injured early in his career and had to stay back at the office. They had all these non-magical journals that did research on raising kids and they all found that hitting didn’t work. Dad brought them home and Mum read them and they decided together. So, yeah, everyone thinks we’re weird and spoiled or something like that.”

“I’m still not sure where the hairbrush comes in.” Hermione reached over and grasped one of his hands.

“Oh, that’s to get people off Mum’s back. She’ll mutter something about it or tell us that we’re going to regret it when Dad gets home if we aren’t behaving. People still know, though. But the seventeen thing…” Ron felt his cheeks heat and struggled not to snigger.  

“What on earth could be so embarrassing?”

“It isn’t, not really. Mum…she…we’ve all of us asked why and I think I asked when Mum was distracted because she told me about their decision and how they never wanted any of us to be afraid of them or telling them anything and then…then she told me that it was perfectly acceptable for adults to decide they wanted…that in a relationship and some people liked to be in charge and enjoyed a more traditional set of roles and…er, that’s about when she realized what she was saying and almost ran out of the room because I was nine. So now when Bill or Charlie or Percy is annoyed with us they, er, well the birthday thing. Percy usually isn’t that open...must’ve really hacked him off.”

Hermione snorted, pressing her lips together. “Sorry…sorry, Ron it’s…”

“It was pretty funny at the time. Still is, now. Mum’s face, Hermione.”

“But it’s really…”

“Not sure how common, honestly, but accepted, yeah. I know there’s a few I wouldn’t want to be…Merlin, what if someone found someone like that for Snape?” Ron went off in a peal of laughter. “I’m imagining Lucius Malfoy interviewing people. Dad says he’s always talking Snape up at the Ministry. What if he’s trying to get him off his hands?”

“He’d eat them alive, honestly.” But she giggled anyway. “Really even OWL and NEWT students?”

“If you’re under their roof then you’re under their rules. Some families have different rules, too, like you might be of age for the government at seventeen but the family charter says it’s twenty-one or twenty-five. Mum has some corkers about people she knew. It’s one reason some get married so young.”

“How do you wrap your head around it? Especially considering how, oh, I don’t know, Malfoy behaves at school. Or Smith, who is a complete toe-rag.”

Ron shrugged. “I reckon it’s growing up knowing and knowing we were different.”

“And…was it Fred’s left buttock? They make it sound like a giant joke.”

“It is now because Dad apologized and promised it would never happen again. And it hasn’t. I think Dad was more upset over all of it than even the twins, but I was three.”

“Do you think there are any books…” Hermione began.

Ron fought bravely but lost his composure completely. “A how-to or maybe a stud book…” he managed around hiccups of mirth.

“Ronald! Don’t be crass or it will be a how-to manual!” she thwacked him with a cushion.

“Oooh-er, promises!”

Ron hauled a cushion over his face and howled as Hermione bashed him over the head.

#hp society/the ton #hp the season au #hp the season/the ton au #use any means #ron weasley #percy weasley #hermione granger #molly and arthur are good parents

[natti-ice]

natti love??? i'm SO PROUD of you!! 700 is a big one!! your writing's come so far and i'm so proud to be one of your moots on this journey, can't believe I'M mutuals with someone so popular like WHAT???

for the celebration i'm thinking we pop open a champagne? a bit of bubbly as we discuss the hottest men imaginable and what unspeakable things we'd let them do to us??

that being said, love, i'd adore participating in your big 700 follower drag race!!

i'm thinking something along the lines of the mini challenge? i'm curious to see who you suggest 🤭 here's all the details needed to see who you think i'd go well with;

stranger things fandom! no preference in particular male/female. i've been described before as the dad friend: protective, always more harsh than the mom friend, having the weirdest lore drops at the strangest times, shitty jokes and dirty humour. i've been called 'intellectual' before and am pretty smart, but i waste it on stupid things like horror movie trivia, music, and world history. i very much have issues (dad/mom/abandonment/attachment) and am pretty much a red flag upon first glance, but i promise i'm sweet, i will make you cookies and rub your back and listen to you infodump and do the things you like! i can't sit through a movie for the life of me unless i have a vested interest (cast i like/concept i love/part of a series i adore) and prefer tv shows or youtube videos. i'm a combination of a metalhead and a pop aficionado but i listen to a wide variety of music (my spotify liked songs is nearly 2k long, ranging from eminem and slipknot to britney spears and 6arelyhuman, not to mention some johnny cash and schubert thrown in for good measure)! i LOVE halloween and christmas!! im big on gifts and creativity, not to mention getting to stay inside and binge the classics and all the tasty treats!

i did NOT mean for that to be that long, i'm so sorry 😭 again, i'm so proud of you for reaching such a big milestone!! what a great way to celebrate further growth on this hellsite!!

Thank you so much bby it really means a lot to me!! Also I think we might be the same person LMAO

I ship you with…Steve Harrington! (This was before I knew who you were omg😭)

I really think y’all would vibe really well together and bounce off of each other without causing too much conflict. You could bond over bad jokes and I think he’d be oddly amused by your abundance of random knowledge!

Join my 700 celebration!

#natti’s 700 celebration! #archer #steve harrington x reader

[leggerefiore]

The fact that the full hybrid twins aren't allowed to work in the subway makes me sad. But you know, I bet there's plenty of people working to get more rights for hybrids legalized! Could we get headcanons or a drabble for that? I know making it legal is only half the battle, there's public opinion to worry about too, but I just really want to see the hybrid brothers working together and overcoming prejudice with the support of their loving S/O.

wooo fictional prejudice is over*

I kinda change it around to incomplete hybrid Emmet and hybrid Ingo. Alongside the fact there's not a lot of romantic interaction between reader and Emmet. Take that how you wish, however.

~

cw: pokehybrid au

● Ingo was uncertain how accepting people were going to be towards him in the station. While he appeared nearly identical to his brother, there was the obvious fact he was a Chandelure hybrid. A bright flame burned within his body and his skin was glass like. He was also quite literally translucent. Most people viewed hybrids like him as evil, dangerous creatures. Chandelure absorbed life energy and souls for nutrients, but they never usually killed purposefully. Ingo was a controlled person, he had never once killed anyone, nor did he take enough energy to ever actually hurt anyone.

○ The green uniform felt strange, alongside the fact his younger brother was his boss, but the joy of finally properly working in the station was relieving. His eyes took in the sights of trains and battles excitedly. It felt like he had always belonged here, but was denied entry by a cruel and unjust society. Laws were being overwritten and changed, petitioners and protestors working to change the lives of hybrids. At least, in theory. The people were going to be the hardest to change. He felt the eyes on him as he walked through the station, whispers into ears about the hybrid pretending to be a part of human society. Ingo already knew how to ignore them.

● Emmet smiled as Ingo wandered to his side to help check on the cars of a travel line. “See, sometimes you see things that upset you, like someone with crutches being forced to stand because no one will give up their seat,” the younger twin motioned to a group of commuters, “In that case, you do have the option to ask if anyone would do it. Though, you can't force anybody.” Ingo watched as his brother creepily smiled at a guy and asked if he would be willing to give his seat up for the girl in the ankle brace. Awkwardly, he agreed and got up, letting her sit down. Ingo recognised it was probably Emmet's unique expressions that led these situations to play out how he preferred. Of course, people did often tell Ingo how intense his expressions were…

○ The strangest looks, Ingo believed, came when he battled. Perhaps it was a bit strange watching Chandelure hybrid battle with an actual Chandelure. He was a skilled trainer, having gone against Emmet in friendly rivalry since they were children. Many people fell to his team before ever having a chance of meeting his brother. Well… Except for you. Ingo got too flustered whenever you popped into the station to check on him. Your hands were all over his uniform, cooing about how cute it looked on him. His flame flickered wildly. You beat him and continued on your way to Emmet, but not without pressing a kiss to his cheek.

● You regularly stepped in whenever anyone tried to be aggressive towards him. The minute anyone dared to speak a slightly cruel word to the hybrid had you or Emmet on them about how hybrids are just as sufficient as humans and are now, by law, allowed to work. One guy even tried to attack Ingo, but was quickly met by an angrier little brother, who was unafraid of biting someone. You were quick to reassure him that he was fine the way he was and deserved respect the same as anybody else. Ingo nodded, but stared at the person with a distant look in his eyes.

○ When Ingo was promoted to Subway Boss, the controversy was immediate. Him as a depot agent was weird yet acceptable; him as a Subway Boss meant authority and respect. People complained that it was nepotism and that Emmet was foolish to even consider a hybrid for such a position. Ingo proceeded to rule the station with an iron fist. Ghost man was superior at paperwork to his younger twin and kept schedules handled with ease. Workers were quick to admire him and accept him as their other boss. His passion for battling and trains was noticeable, and his identical looks to Emmet quickly earned their respect.

● Elesa was always posting about how amazing Ingo was at his job and overcoming the judgement from society about daring to work in such a place as a hybrid. You were often pictured with him doing mundane, average things to show that human and hybrid relationships were just as boring as human and human ones. Ingo cuddled with you and served you random dishes he had made. You chatted about prices of things you wanted to buy and moving apartments. It really helped settle the idea that hybrids were more like humans than not.

○ During his moments of insecurity about continuing his job, you were always at his side to reassure him and tell him that he was doing fine. His flames flickered brightly as he felt flustered about your kind words. Confidence blooms in his chest as he closes his eyes. You were right. Emmet believed in him, as did you. He was setting an example for hybrids all across Unova. His hand grasped yours as he murmured, “Thank you, my love… Whenever my confidence fails me, you give me strength to carry on.” You pressed a kiss onto his lips.

~~~~~

“It's so nice to have some help in the office!” Emmet cheered as Ingo picked up another bundle of documents. The older glared at the younger. Ingo was quick to realise his brother's lack of interest in paperwork. Someone had to do it, and that someone was unfortunately him. He stared at the sheets while his brother brushed his Galvantula with a coo.

It was astounding that two years ago, he could never see himself in such a position. He wore the same uniform as his brother, held the same title, and worked in the same office. It was truly a dream come true. His beloved trains and battling surrounded him now. The pen scraped against the paper as he lost himself in the nearly mindless work. Time slowly ticked away from him until the door clicked opened.

“Ingo!” you called out, breaking his attention from the paper. He looked up to see you carrying a gift bag. His eyes went wide. What was that? You closed the door behind you and placed the item on his desk. “Open it, open it!”

He grabbed the bag, staring at the charcoal colour of it alongside the grey tissue paper. You gazed at him excitedly while Emmet popped up behind you to observe. His smile was bright as the older twin opened the bag. A model train was pulled out. Ingo felt the chill of the metal against his warm hands, and he felt a small grin on his lips.

“Do you like it, Ingoooo?” Emmet cooed, stepping closer, “It's a gift from us to celebrate your first year here!” Ingo felt his flames burn brighter at the model Subway train with the dark green and silver paint. His single line. “How kind of you both… I, for once, am at a loss for words,” he spoke softly, “I could never have got here without either of you. Thank you ever so much.”

“That's what brothers do,” Emmet chuckled, walking over to pat his back.

You walked close and pressed a kiss to his temple. He sighed. “I love you, Ingo,” you gushed. The older twin stared up at you, “As I do I, my darling.”

#ingo x reader #ingo/reader #pokehybrid au #pokemon ingo x reader

[roalinda]

ok this is not at all in defence of the nice one james line cause i also think it’s completely stupid and sirius would never mistake harry for james, but what if it was supposed to be like talking to james about harry? like telling james ‘you made a good thing here’? and not actually talking TO harry as james. but like talking to james’ spirit or his memory or … oh god….. through the veil. thoughts?

Hello anon, 

Sorry it took me so long to answer, your ask reasoned into me re-reading the chapters in the OOTP and DH which I deemed necessary, so I could come up with a proper thing. ♡ also, I have been busy crying over Sirius as I was reading it last night, so I couldn't answer right away. 🙈

So, I'm more of a book person than a movie person, specially when it comes to Harry Potter series. The movies have so many misleading points, I don't even want to start on them. 

The nice one thing actually exists in the book, but without the word James. It is specially directed to Harry.

"Nice one!" shouted Sirius, forcing Harry's head down as a pair of stunning spells flew toward them. ( HP and OOTP, chapter 35, page 803 ) 

and by reading the previous lines and their context, it's easy to conclude that Sirius is talking to Harry, specially since he continues with,

"Now I want you to get out of — " 

Which he shows he knows what he is doing, who is he talking to and what is he fighting for. So, it's safe to say that accusing Sirius Black of having a adrift mind which confuses James and Harry, has no real root and evidence, if the audience want to lean on the movie.

Now to the veil and nice one, James! : 

This is a simple description of the veil, apart from the details in the next paragraphs. 

The archway was hung with a tattered black curtain or veil ( HP and OOTP, chapter 34, page 773 )

As we proceed, we learn that the veil is black and it flutters slightly without being touched. There are faint whispers behind it, ones that not everyone can hear. Harry and Luna hear them, Ginny and Neville are entranced by the veil and it seems that only Ron and Hermione are kind of safe. 

Maybe the reason is that they have not met with the same level of grief or worse, coming face to face with death like the other four, each in their own right. Luna losing her mother, Ginny nearly killed by Voldemort in CS, Neville losing his parents to insanity and Harry, well, obvious is obvious. 

Also here are two small details:

Still, the veil swayed gently, as though somebody had just passed through it. ( HP and OOTP, chapter 34, page 773)

This gives one the hope that maybe people can come out of the veil, even if they are not alive in foreshadowing, but then we have, 

If Sirius was not reappearing out of that archway when Harry was yelling for him as though his life depended on it, the only possible explanation was that he could not come back… (HP and OOTP, chapter 36, page 808)

So, Sirius cannot come back until we see him in DH with the resurrection stone, which the aim is completely different and not related to this.

So, those were small selective facts. Ok? ok.

Now moving to my personal thoughts on James in the situation you said Sirius may have called his name and not a meta on the aspects of the veil. (which are different and the veil needs a long meta itself)

let us assume that the dead can watch the living from behind the veil. It's a black curtain, the living can't see what's hidden behind and if they try they fall in there and die. The serene swaying of the veil? Maybe it is the gaze of the dead at their loved ones from afterlife, using the veil like a window. The archway is a border between life and dead and the veil is the bridge. It is abstract, it can be seen as a window, a road or a simple door which is one-way.

He (Harry) had the strangest feeling that there was someone standing behind the veil on the other side of the archway. (HP and OOTP, chapter 34, page 773)

Grief has a huge impact on hearing things there or how one views the veil. I believe Sirius is one of the few characters who had never stopped grieving. Too many sad memories, accusations while being innocent, finding his boyfriend best friend's dead body, honestly, how much a man can take? 

So, probably grief would let him hear the whispers too and as we read in the book, those whispers and the veil are entrancing, calming and beautiful. 

The gently rippling veil intrigued him (Harry) ; he felt a very strong inclination to climb up on the dais and walk through it. (HP and OOTP, chapter 34, page 774)

It goes without saying that Sirius was neither delusional or suicidal. He was a brave, clever and energetic man who was not content to sit at home while every one else were fighting ( in Dumbledore's words), he had risked everything to escape Azkaban, lived in caves, etc. Such man with such passion ( for whatever reason) cannot think about death while he has his godson trusted to him. I need to point this out here because a lot of people think Sirius was a suicidal man whose life was wrapped up in James and cared for his godson as James not as Harry. 

So, here is the thought, he may have felt James' presence in that room, among those whispers and by the force of habit he said - nice one, James! - in the heat of the battle. They were very co-dependant after all. Maybe James used to use the same spell harry used in that Situation to have his back, who knows?

It's a movie thing , directors and producers were very focused on ruining his character anyway. 😭

What I am personally sure about ( well, it is my HC at least) , is that James was on the other side of the veil, ready to recieve Sirius,  the two crying and laughing at the same time. (Excuse me for being weak for this HC , anon 🙈 )

Anyway, thank you for the ask ♡ 

#Prongsfoot #Prongsfoot asks #Sirius black #James potter #I ranted so much sorry nhfjkgrh

[thebreadvansstuff]

Harry’s in Paris and missing Louis and Louis is home missing Harry, they haven’t spoken since before Harry moved and Louis surprises Harry

Yes…. It’s a requested continuation of your angst one please🥰

Part I here!

Harry thought the feeling of loneliness would be temporary, something that would easily be washed away by the glory and glamour of Paris.

It wouldn't be easy meeting new people and letting them into his life, but he thought it would work somehow.

When four months passed and Harry's life consisted of work and 'home' alone, he knew this might be more permanent than he had initially believed.

The strangest thing was that 'home' didn't feel like home, not when it was so quiet and lifeless at all times.

Harry had to resort to frequent video chats with his mother and sister for company, always begging them for updates on the town and its people.

He could only hear so many stories about the farmers' market and the neighbour's puppies before he was asking about a specific name.

Louis.

He could tell from the way they avoided talking about him that there wasn't much to tell.

He knew Louis and how easily he could close in on himself until there was nothing but a shell of a man.

Harry often pictured Louis, repeating the same routine every day, cooking breakfast for his siblings, driving them to school, picking them up, tucking them to bed.

He was much like clock, ticking and spinning until it ran out of battery.

Harry had thought about calling plenty of times, especially when the loneliness was too much to handle, and he'd nearly booked a ticket home.

But he couldn't bring himself to dial the number, not when he knew he was unwelcome after his decision to leave.

Another day of work had come to an end, and Harry was dragging his feet across the busy streets of Paris.

He stopped at a souvenir shop, observing the berets, the Eiffel tower keychains and magnets. A small part of him had hoped that Louis would follow him to Paris, and they'd be strolling down the streets together, making fun of the stereotypical tourists who'd purchase all these souvenirs.

Harry purchased the keychain, let it dangle mockingly from his keys. Four months had passed and he felt like a tourist, so alienated and estranged that he fit well into that stereotypical image he and Louis would have painted in their minds.

He spinned the keys around his finger as he reached his building, taking the stairs up to his apartment. He watched his feet, polished shoes taking step after step towards the end of yet another day.

He reached his door, shoes coming to a halt when they met a familiar pair in front of them. Harry recognised the smudges of mud and stained shoe laces.

In a trance he looked up.

"Louis," he whispered, frozen in place.

Louis' hair was matted across his forehead, cheeks hollowed like he's lost weight.

"What - what are you doing here?" Harry stammered, drinking in the sight of him, as if it would disappear the very next second.

Louis' jaw tightened, he glanced to the side.

"I can't stay away from you," he said, voice raspy and hoarse. He met Harry's eye again.

Harry's mouth was open but there were no words coming from it.

"I'm not here to stay, if that's what you're worried about," Louis started. "I didn't even bring clothes with me."

Harry looked around. Louis only had his phone in hand, not a backpack, not a change of clothes.

"Why are you here, then?" he asked, stopped breathing as he waited for an answer.

Louis rubbed his nose with the back of his hand.

"To say goodbye."

The words felt like a blow to Harry's heart, crushing it in a million pieces.

Send me a line, and I'll write a snippet!

#send me a line and i'll write a snippet #my writing

[anonymousewrites]

Adolescent Antichrist (Book 1) Chapter Six

Chapter Six: That’s Better Than What My Therapist Says

Warnings: None I think

            “Now, make sure the hymns are just right when you’re walking down,” said Lucifer to three women dressed in nun outfits.

            (Y/N) looked on in confusion. They had seen Lucifer do many strange things in the penthouse, like believe he was immune to the Devil’s Tongue Pepper (he was not and spent the rest of the day drinking milk), but having nuns was one of the strangest. That was, until they spied the tall heels they were wearing. (Nothing against them, great heels, but they recognized them from when Lucifer’s performers were warming up).

            “Alright! Better head on down, the Padre will be arriving soon,” chirped Lucifer.

            (Y/N) furrowed their brow. “Father Lawrence?”

            Lucifer spun dramatically. “He was nearly killed in a hit and run! So I offered for him to stay here.”

            “Are you trying to…tempt him?” (Y/N) deadpanned. “He’s a priest.”

            “I’m making him feel at home!” He grinned.

            “I really don’t think he’s going to fall for it. He seems to be a relatively well-adjusted person,” said (Y/N). “But have fun. Even if Father Lawrence doesn’t fall for it, I’m sure you’ll have fun.” Kinda wish I could see Father Lawrence’s reaction, but I can’t. I have math homework. And I guess I’m a little young.

            They sat down and began working on homework. However, they got bored rather quickly. Looking around Lucifer’s penthouse, she tried to decide on a way to entertain herself. The books? Mostly history, so no. The bar? …Irresponsible, no. The piano? They could barely play, but sure. At least it would pass the time.

            As (Y/N) played (quite terribly), the elevator opened, and Lucifer and Father Lawrence walked in.

            “Oh, wonderful! You read our minds,” said Lucifer jovially. “The Padre here believes he can play better than me!”

            (Y/N) nodded and stood up. “Go ahead.” They smiled. “Maybe you’ll knock his pride down a little bit.”

            Lucifer let out a dramatized gasp. Father Lawrence smiled and sat down at the piano. Of course, as a joke towards Lucifer, he played “Knockin’ on Heaven’s Door.” (Y/N) grinned at the lovely sound. He was a true maestro. Lucifer chuckled, impressed at the display.

            “You guys would great together,” said (Y/N). They grinned. “A priest and the devil making music.”

            Liking the idea (and a sucker for them being happy), Lucifer sat down. “What do you say to something more upbeat, Padre?” He began playing “Mess Around” dramatically.

            Father Lawrence smiled. “Something like this?” He easily matched Lucifer.

            “Father, you have soul,” joked (Y/N), swaying to the beat.

            “You ain’t seen nothing yet.” He glanced at Lucifer. “Mind if I take the top?”

            “Be my guest,” said Lucifer.

            Lucifer and Father Lawrence switched seats, never letting the music stop. Laughing, they kept playing while (Y/N) danced around. They felt happier than they had in a while. No anxiety, no sadness, no exhaustion, just music and Lucifer and happiness.

            The elevator opened, and Chloe stepped out. “Excuse me.” She stopped when she saw the scene if front of her.

            “Hi, Detective,” said (Y/N), nodding to her as she spun on her socks.

            “Oh…” Lucifer sheepishly stopped playing. “Hello, Detective.”

            “Hi, said Chloe, smiling.

            Father Lawrence chuckled.

            “Well, I suppose this wasn’t completely terrible,” said Lucifer to the priest.

            “Not completely.” Father Lawrence laughed and clapped Lucifer on the shoulder.

            “Sorry to interrupt, but Father Frank’s story about the Spider checks out, and I got a lead,” said Chloe. “So, yeah.”

            “Oh, okay.” Lucifer cleared his throat and stood up. “Right, well…The Padre and (Y/N) can stay here while we check it out.” He smiled. “He needs a bit of practice.” Father Lawrence scoffed playfully.

            “So…” said (Y/N) after Lucifer and Chloe had left. “You’re staying here?”

            “Detective Decker thought it would be best if I stayed away from the church since whoever tried to kill me might return,” said Father Lawrence.

            “Unfortunately, I can relate.”

            “Ah.” Father Lawrence nodded and looked at them, gauging her reaction carefully. “The situation with your family.”

            “Father, you don’t need to sugarcoat it. I know my uncle murdered my aunt and then tried to kill me when I ruined his alibi.” (Y/N) smiled sarcastically. “Oh, and I got abandoned by my parents for doing the right thing.” They shrugged and crossed their arms. “I’ve accepted it.”

            Father Lawrence smiled understandingly. “You’ve accepted the facts but not the accompanying feelings.”

            “Funny, that’s better than what my therapist says,” joked (Y/N).

            The priest simply continued smiling. “Well, I don’t know what else they say, but I know that I see some strength in you. You’re going to become stronger.”

            “Who told you, God?”

            “No.” Father Lawrence shook his head. “It’s just you. After all, not many people are brave enough to go up against their parents. That shows considerable strength.”

            “Isn’t ‘honor thy father and thy mother’ a commandment?” remarked (Y/N) teasingly.

            Father Lawrence laughed. “I’m fairly certain God is more concerned with ‘Thou shalt not kill.’ ”

            (Y/N) grinned. “I’ll take your word on it, Father.”

#adolescent antichrist #netflix lucifer #platonic lucifer #lucifer #lucifer x reader #lucifer netflix #lucifer morningstar #platonic x reader #x teen reader #x teen!reader #nb reader #gn reader

[j-a-nuary]

CARRIER

Re-introductions

<< first | < backward | masterlist | forward >

Stray Kids Urban fantasy AU (feat. Ateez from time to time) | A “carrier service” exists, seemingly only to get people (usually women) home safe after the trains stop running.

Heavy on bad boys with hearts of… some kind of shiny metal, probably.

Warnings: Affectionate use of the word whore, drinking, flirting, the concept of "dibs" being applied to a person (y'know, with free will?)

=====

"You're a real piece of shit Han Jisung," Tempawan clapped a hand on the back of her newly rediscovered friend.

"Shim Tempawan," Jisung turned, quickly wrapping his arms around her in a tight hug, "you absolute whore."

He was pretending to be surprised, and doing a damn good job of it. He had, of course, smelled her as soon as she entered the bar. Ripe mangosteen and something like liquor. A smell he hadn't recognized two days ago, but now was bewildered that he had ever forgotten.

"Do you ever wonder what people must think of us?" She asked him as he rocked back and forth, his hug dragging her along for the ride.

"Never," he finally stopped and turned, leaving one arm around her shoulders, "let me introduce you to my friends."

Tempawan hadn't noticed the few men standing with Jisung.

"This is Kim Hongjoong…"

A man with his hair tied back nodded, polite but seemingly uninterested in making friends.

"He, uh, owns a couple businesses around here. Song Mingi…"

Six feet if he was an inch, a slightly deeper nod, and a friendly smile.

"... works for him, but don't hold that against him. Park Seonghwa…"

A calculating head tilt, a sweep of the eyes. No nod.

"Is a lawyer? I believe…"

Seonghwa simply nodded.

"Oh perfect!" Jisung lit up a little bit as a surprisingly familiar head of golden curls approached. "This i-"

"Boots?!" Tempawan couldn't hold back from interrupting.

Felix stopped suddenly, nearly toppling the couple of glasses on the tray he held.

"Boots?" Hongjoong was suddenly very interested in the conversation. A grin split his face as he swept his eyes over Felix. For what must have been the first time, he noticed the heel on his shoes.

"You motherfucker! Call me short one more time you fucking liar!"

An interesting combination of concern and amusement spread across Seonghwa's features. He knew that Hongjoong was, mostly, joking around. Still, he could get a little sensitive at times; about the strangest things too.

For his part, Felix looked panicked. He shot Tempawan a harried kind of smile, then tugged at Jisung’s jacket.

"Hey, Sung, a word?"

Jisung, seemingly oblivious to his friend's distress, just tilted his head.

"Sure, what's up?"

"I mean, uh, could we maybe…"

Tempawan took action to disperse as much tension as she could.

"Hey, I'm going to grab a drink. Don't wait up for me," she teased Jisung. Offering the others a quick nod, she headed for the bar.

=====

Felix immediately tugged Jisung aside. Jisung tried, and failed, to grab one of the glasses from the tray that Felix had finally set down on the table.

"What the fuck is she doing here?"

"I don't know," Jisung shrugged, lifting the glass to his lips.

"You didn't invite her?" Felix pressed.

"Fuck no," Jisung huffed, "why would I invite her when I know that Chan and Changbiiaaaah fuck…"

Felix felt no little satisfaction at the way Jisung’s face went pale.

Jisung wasn't stupid. He was even brilliant when he actually put the work in. He just had a tendency towards forgetfulness and getting distracted.

"Exactly. You've got to find a way to get her out of here," Felix explained, "now."

"Alright, alright," Jisung waved his hand dismissively, "just let me think for a second, fuck."

"I don't mean to interrupt," Seonghwa interrupted, "but your friend there - is she single?"

Jisung blinked, trying to process the new information being insinuated.

"What? Yeah, I think so," he shook his head before fixing Seonghwa with a piercing look, "why?"

Seonghwa nodded towards the bar.

As one, Felix and Jisung turned.

Tempawan was laughing, leaning forward, playing with the straw in her drink. All fine and normal things to do while flirting at a bar. No problems there.

However, she was laughing with, leaning towards, and now reaching up to fix the collar of none other than one Jeong Yunho.

=====

Glad to be clear of the oddity of running into a carrier in the wild, Tempawan hopped up onto a seat by the corner of the bar. She figured she'd be out of the way enough to not interfere with the bartender's business.

"What can I get you, my friend?"

She smiled at the bartender, briefly looking over the taps on display.

"The sour please."

"And did you want to start a tab?"

"Sure," she pulled her bag forward, setting it on the bar, "just le-"

"You can put it on mine," a voice said somewhere to the right of, and slightly above her.

She looked up, seeing a kind enough looking man nodding his assurance to the bartender.

“You don’t have to-”

He raised a hand, waving her words aside. Turning to give her a somewhat childish smile, Yunho couldn’t help but wonder why he was being so forward. It wasn’t really his style. But for whatever reason, he had decided to go for it.

“No pressure,” he assured her, “you can walk away right now if you like.”

The seeping chill, and rising heat, had become something like background noise to Tempawan over the last few days. Relying once again on that highly contextual anecdotal evidence, she knew that there was really only one thing that would make it go away.

Besides, this guy wasn’t half bad looking.

“I think I’ll give you a chance to persuade me to stay.”

=====

"He's going to get murdered," Felix muttered under his breath.

"Who's getting murdered?" Hongjoong had now joined the three of them. He followed their gaze towards the bar, and cocked his head slightly.

"She seems into it. Besides," Hongjoong shrugged, "you all know he's a nice enough guy."

"No," Jisung barely breathed the word, "you don't get it."

"What's to get?" Seonghwa asked.

"They might not be dating," Jisung started.

"But that's Changbin’s girl," Felix finished.

The group of them silently watched the two chat. Jisung hated hearing her be described as Changbin’s girl. He hated it more than watching the way Yunho pretended that making way for another patron was the reason he had to move closer to her. He hated it more than the way she smiled and seemed to blush at the new closeness.

He actually hated it less than watching Yunho bend down and speak more directly into her ear.

Jisung took a step forward, but Felix grabbed his wrist.

"We have to come up with a way to make Changbin late," Felix suggested. "Tell him to pick something up at the store or something."

"Like what?" Jisung asked. He kept his eyes on Tempawan, an entire orchard of mangosteen trees seeming to have suddenly ripened in Jisung’s nostrils as Tempawan’s tongue peeked out to wet her lips. As if that weren't bad enough, he felt himself start to shake slightly when Yunho put a hand on her arm.

Felix felt it too.

"Focus."

"Why is it a big deal?" Hongjoong asked, "You said they aren't dating, right? Changbin’s not a totally unreasonable guy."

"No offense, Joong," Felix tried his best to sound both appeasing and assured, "but he's changed since he stopped working for you."

"Changed is…" Jisung sighed, finally tearing his eyes off of Tempawan, "putting it lightly."

"I didn't know him before," Seonghwa added, "but he definitely doesn't scream stability to me."

Mingi, who up until now had been content to watch and listen, pushed his way past the other four men.

=====

Yunho spotted his friend approaching, and tried to give him a subtle head shake. He didn’t know if Mingi hadn’t noticed it or was just ignoring it, but he did not halt his steps.

Mingi had noticed the gesture, but based on what he had heard from Felix and Jisung, he figured that he was doing Yunho a favor by interrupting.

“I think I’m about to be pulled away,” Yunho said.

Resting her chin on her palm, Tempawan pursed her lips, affecting a pseudo-pout to match the flirtation in her voice as she spoke.

“If you don’t want to talk to me anymore, you don’t need to make an excuse,” she made a conscious effort to run a thumb over her bottom lip in a way that might seem subconscious as she glanced at Yunho’s lips.

“No pressure,” she added.

Yunho was in. He knew he was in. The fact that he knew he was in was evidence of just how in he was. Yunho knew he was typically oblivious to advances from women. Or men. His friends constantly made fun of him for missing out because he just thought everyone was being nice.

“It’s not an excuse,” his eyes were glued to Tempawan’s now slightly smeared lipstick, “are you going to be here a while?”

“Depends,” she had now clocked Mingi’s approach, working out that he was probably who Yunho was talking about, “one of my friends is here so I might stick around.”

“Yu-”

“Mingi, right?” Tempawan cut him off, flashing him the wide eyed smile that she had learned was one of her better weapons for disarming men.

“Yes,” Mingi nodded once before turning his attention to Yunho, “they’re going to be here soon.”

Yunho groaned, letting his head fall forward for a second before straightening up.

“Fine,” he gave Tempawan a soft smile, “we’re kind of having a business thing. I’d like to talk more afterwards. No pressure.”

Barely twenty minutes, and they already had an inside joke. Tempawan was actually impressed.

“I’ll be around,” she nodded.

“Actually,” Felix cut in, a tense smile plastered across his face, “you won’t. We need to talk.”

Tempawan practically jumped, having had zero awareness of Boots’ approach. She pressed a hand against her chest, trying to settle her heart rate.

“Why?”

Felix glanced between Little Turtle and the two men. Mingi, having been present for the discussion about Changbin, seemed to be accepting what was happening. Yunho looked, for lack of a better word, curious.

Felix shot them an ingratiating smile before trying to impress upon Little Turtle the severity of the situation.

“Remember the conversation we had? About names?”

Mingi, having mastered the art of reading the room, started directing Yunho back towards their table.

Tempawan could see Boots visibly relax as they got further away.

“Yeah,” she shot a playful pout over his shoulder at Yunho when he glanced back. Turning her attention back to Boots, she tilted her head, “it’s dangerous or whatever.”

=====

“What did I miss out on?” Yunho asked Mingi as he was ushered away.

“Long story short…” Mingi sighed, “Changbin apparently has dibs.”

Yunho looked back, heart skipping a beat when he saw the look she gave him.

“Does she know that?”

“No idea.”

=====

“Right,” his voice was sharp, pressing into Tempawan’s ear like thorns, “so when I say that you should leave…”

He left the rest unsaid, offering her the opportunity to come to the natural conclusion.

She licked her lips, thinking over everything she knew about the carriers, Boots, and the new people she had been introduced to.

“Does Jisung work with you?”

He closed his eyes in frustration, then cleared his throat.

“I literally can not have that conversation with you.”

“So he does,” she nodded slowly. From everything she remembered about Jisung, he wasn’t the type to get involved in anything dangerous. Not on purpose anyway. But a lot could happen in a few years.

Her eyes scanned the group, finding Jisung’s familiar form easily enough.

Something occurred to her then, and she met his eyes again.

“So you both work with Bin.”

Felix could feel the situation unraveling much faster than he would have liked. He sighed, rubbing a hand over his chin.

“Okay,” he huffed, “listen: if you leave right now, I swear that I will find a way to get you some answers. But you absolutely can not be here when the others arrive.”

“How come you’re telling me all of this instead of Jisung?”

Felix took a deep breath, trying to control his patience.

“Again,” he smiled a smile of flower fields under bright sunshine, “answers later. Leaving now.”

Tempawan blinked, temporarily disarmed by the delightfully pastoral man in front of her.

“Fine,” she sighed, “you know the club Sonar?”

Felix nodded.

“Somebody from here better show up there once you’re done here.”

“Fine,” Felix agreed easily enough, “great even. Now you need to go.”

Tempawan threw back the remaining sour in her glass and nodded.

“Oh, uh, Boots,” she smiled at him, “if you and Jisung are busy, you could always send Yunho.”

“Absolutely not,” he smiled at her, “we don’t need any murders tonight. Exit is that way,” he pointed towards a side door.

“Fine,” she rolled her eyes and headed out.

=====

“I’m sure your…” Chan paused, for the slightest of seconds, flashing a look in Seonghwa’s direction, “lawyer has some questions.”

They had been dancing around each other for the duration of the meeting. Quick glances, barely resisted narrowing of eyes, and excessive care when choosing words had quickly become the standard for the, admittedly minimal, conversation between the two.

"Actually," Seonghwa shrugged, swirling the remaining dregs of his vieux carré, "the less I know, the better." He lifted the glass, staring Chan down as he emptied it between his lips.

Felix and Jisung exchanged a look. There was no doubt that they'd be sharing theories about the tension between the two men later on. Most likely in the group chat that conveniently excluded both their boss and their doctor.

Hongjoong, either ignorant to or disregarding the atmosphere, laughed off Seonghwa's comment. He slapped a hand against the tense man's shoulder as he spoke.

"You're so dramatic, Hwa."

Turning his attention back towards the man he had just entered into a gentleman's agreement with, he affected a stage whisper.

"He's not my lawyer if I'm not paying him, right?"

#skz fanfic #skz fic #skz x oc #stray kids fanfic #stray kids fic #stray kids x oc #ateez fanfic #ateez fic #urban fantasy #magical realism

[sleekervae]

Yoü & I [1.5]

Masterlist

A/N: Okie, so it's been a couple years but I'm updating this story again. If you want to catch up I recommend going back through my list to get up to speed with where we are here, but I'm bringing this story back and I hope you guys like it. Xo

Warnings: angst, drug paraphernalia, fighting with your family

--

Weeks had gone by, all filled with travel, culture, and of course a nearly-sold-out show every night. The girls had completely fallen in love with South Asia and were sad when they had to head home mid-March. Not that Charlotte complained much when she'd arrived back to her apartment. The first thing she did was fall face-first into her bed and have one of the best sleeps of her life. 

A few days later, the girls of Catch the Caper had decided to take some time off and fly home to Brooklyn. Charlotte couldn't deny her mom drove her nuts, and the other girls could vouch for how intense Penelope Antonakis could be at times; let's just say she had some rather particular values. But at the end of the day, Charlotte loved her unconditionally. 

It was a crisp, but temperate Wednesday morning and spring had sprung in New York. Small beams of light broke through the wispy white curtains of Charlotte's childhood bedroom, the walls dusted in a washed-out rose and old photographs hung from rusted nails. Tucked into the frame of an old vanity mirror, hanging just over Charlotte's desk was a picture of her and Luke, a polaroid taken just after the night they'd first met. Charlotte favoured that photo like it was gold. 

The twenty-year-old singer slept soundly in her bed, not even the alleyway dog barking outside could wake her. Although, a high-strung Greek woman and her hard-headed son would seem to do the trick. 

"Troy! You bring that trash around and you're grounded!"

"I'm nineteen mom! That shit doesn't apply to me anymore!"

"And stop swearing in my house!"

Charlotte's eyes popped open and she sat up as though the atomic bomb had just gone off. But the only bomb that had gone off was her mom and her younger brother, Troy, fighting. 

"You haven't even met her yet!" Troy snapped.

"I know enough about her parents to know she's not the kind of girl I want my son courting!" their mother snapped back. 

"Courting? What is this? Camelot?"

Charlotte rolled her eyes and pulled herself out of bed. It was evident if she wanted to get any work done, it wasn't going to happen in her house. Rubbing the sleep from her face she trudged into the living room to see what all the commotion was about.

"Guys, what the fuck?" she groaned, "It's too early in the morning!"

Penelope glared back at her daughter, "Sweetie, it's quarter after ten. And no swearing in the house!" 

Oh brother.

Charlotte shuffled into the kitchen where she was immediately drawn to the coffee pot on the stove. She poured herself a cup as her mom and brother followed, still bickering between each other. 

"Charlotte, you'll never believe who your brother was shacking up with while you were gone," Penelope muddled on.

Troy protested eagerly, "We weren't shacking up!"

Penelope scoffed, "Violet Martinelli!" she exclaimed dramatically. Charlotte glared at the both of them cluelessly.

"Why is that name familiar to me?" she asked as she reached for a coffee mug.

Troy sighed, "You remember my senior homecoming parade? The girl hanging off the cheerleader float with all the rainbow elastics in her hair?"

"And wearing her cheer skirt as a top!" Penelope gasped, "I don't understand how the principal didn't suspend her on the spot," 

Charlotte's memory jogged back in, fondly remembering the spectacle of a seventeen-year-old celery stick dancing on the cheerleader's parade float with her skirt being her only article of clothing worn. The skirt wasn't even the strangest part; this girl had three or four different braids sticking out of her head, all tied with a menagerie of rainbow elastic bands. She looked like a performing art exhibit at the MoMA.

"Oh, now I remember," Charlotte poured the coffee into her mug and took a refreshing sip, "How'd you hook up with her?" she was partly surprised, partly impressed. Troy, with his lanky build and shaggy hair, embodied more of a Malibu-weed-smoking-surfing poser rather than the typical high school heartthrob. 

Troy glanced nervously at his mother as he replied, "Through Molly,"

Penelope grunted, "And I know that's a lie. You've never once mentioned a Molly to me, ever!" 

In this case, Molly wasn't a person, Charlotte thought to herself, "Pretty sure he's telling the truth, Mom," 

"We didn't hook up!" Troy went on, "We just went to a couple parties together!" he pointed at Penelope, "She's flipping out because she was being a psycho and stalking my Facebook page!" 

"If you're not going to tell me where you're going and who you're with, then I'm going to find out myself, mister," Penelope crossed her arms, "There are so many awful, trashy people out there looking to take advantage of youth like you!"

Charlotte took another deep swig of her coffee, "Charlotte travels the world for a living. You don't get up on her case!"

"Because their manager promised me they'd keep a constant eye on the girls in non-English speaking countries," 

Charlotte figured it was best to leave out the whole 'lost in Japan' bit, "A good percentage of the population speak English in Asia," 

"Good enough for you to get by on your own? I don't think so, Little Rockstar," Penelope bit back. 

"What the f -- heck are we even supposed to be fighting over?" she asked.

Penelope glared at Troy, "Your brother is sleeping around with white trash," 

"I wouldn't necessarily call her 'trash' because she does drugs, but okay," Troy shrugged. 

"Oh, so you do admit it!"

"Admit what?"

"That you did drugs with her!"

"I didn't do drugs with her and I didn't sleep with her!" now, that was a lie.

Charlotte slammed her mug down, "Alright, that's enough! Mom, bring the intensity down to a negative two! Troy, stop going out with Violet! Fine?"

"Fine," Troy huffed. 

"Great! And now, I don't want to hear about this again! Case closed!" she suddenly missed the raucous racket of Hollywood and her sweet little apartment. 

♛♛♛

Charlotte and Troy walked side-by-side down the cherry-blossom-covered streets of their neighbourhood, having finally managed to sneak away from their mother for some quality sibling time. Troy had a cigarette tucked behind his ear, much to Charlotte's intrigue.

"When did you start smoking?" she asked.

"I don't," Troy shook his head, "I mean -- I-I tried. Violet smokes so I thought I'd... ya' know,"

"Look, I can understand if you like this girl, but destroying your lungs is not worth the trade-off," she said. 

Troy shrugged sheepishly, "Guess your right. Besides, what's Mom going to do to me if she finds these hanging around the house?"

"You won't have a house to live in," Charlotte replied simply.

"Does Calum still smoke?" Troy asked.

"Yes he does. And we're still trying to entice him to quit, too," she said. 

"You're going back on tour with them next week?"

"Two weeks. You gonna' miss me?"

"I didn't miss you all the times you left before. This time around won't be different,"

Charlotte nudged him in the ribs, "Don't be a dick," she knew he was only making a joke, but sometimes Charlotte had to wonder if Troy's humour was rooted in his pain. After all, he still wasn't over their dad up and taking off several years ago, and Charlotte didn't expect him to take it well whenever she had to go away. 

They stopped at a local brunch restaurant, relatively quiet because it was a Wednesday after all. They always ordered their usual; him the classic breakfast with fried eggs, sausages and hash browns and she'd always get the french toast with house-made raspberry compote. 

"So," Troy mumbled between sips of his orange juice, "When's the new record coming out?"

Charlotte smirked at him, "Well, we have to write it first. I came up with some shit here and there but it'll probably take another year," 

"You should write a song about me," he grinned.

"What the hell would I write for you?" she replied, "My bum brother is coasting through community college. Exciting plot line," 

Troy snorted, "Your boyfriend wrote a whole damn single about college dropouts. Don't hate," 

"A: you're not a dropout. B: Luke's not my boyfriend," she contested, counting off with her fingers.

"Could've fooled me with point B," he shrugged, "What's this next album going to be about?"

"I just told you we have to write it,"

"Yeah, but you also said you had some shit written down already," Troy whined, "You can tell me. I won't blab," 

"Not with your head clear of Molly, you won't," she replied, "And be careful with that shit. You know what could happen if you get caught with it,"

"My famous sister gets to tote the junkie brother tag around the rest of her life," he said.

"Don't joke about that," Charlotte glared at him, "I'm serious. You never know what that shit is cut with. A lot of kids have died from it,"

Troy refrained from rolling his eyes, "You're starting to sound like mom," 

"Way to insult me. Thanks," 

Troy shifted his chair closer, "Lemme' ask you though: you, a woman of the world, has never tried any drugs? You're seriously not that squeaky clean,"

Charlotte glared back at him, "Troy..."

"You can tell me. I'm not mom, either," he said.

"Troy, I don't do drugs. I've been offered and I've seen it, but I don't take drugs," she replied.

"You smoke weed, though," he pointed out.

"Weed and ecstasy are two very different things," she replied.

"Weed is a drug,"

"It is clinically impossible to overdose on weed," 

Troy nodded halfheartedly, "Fair point,"

The waiter then came by and dropped off their meals, and Troy started eating immediately, "Listen to me," Charlotte started, "I don't care what you do or who you do it with, just be careful for the love of God,"

He raised his right hand, "Swear on nana's grave. Eat your breakfast, it'll get cold," he then reached over and took off the tip of the whipping cream.

"Hey! Back off!" she batted his fork away. 

"You still haven't told me what your album's about," he said.  Charlotte started cutting into her french toast.

"I don't know yet," she shrugged.

"So, what's your song about, then?" he asked. 

Charlotte chewed nervously, "... I haven't decided on that, either," 

♛♛♛

The day had quickly passed into dusk, and there was a rich, colorful sunset painting the sky. Charlotte sat on the ledge roof of the townhouse, watching the dark silhouette of the Brooklyn Bridge tower prominently over the East River. Manhattan was still bustling and the noise carried over with the gentle spring breeze. Charlotte would pick Brooklyn over Manhattan any day; sure it was more modern and considered the place to live, but Brooklyn was her home. It was rustic, strong, and full of culture and vintage beauty. Brooklyn wasn't as stressful as Manhattan, it was more Charlotte's speed.

Charlotte brought the doobie to her lips and inhaled softly. Penelope knew her children smoked weed, and hell, she wasn't all that innocent either. She just couldn't stand the bitter smell festering in her house, so she forced the kids to do it outside. 

She had spoken to the girls a while ago, all agreeing to meet and spend some time in the studio to plan their next album. Even on a break, the music business never stopped. Charlotte still was on the fence when it came to that song. The girls loved it, and despite knowing who it was for they all agreed it would be the cutting edge single to lead them to their next success. To be honest, Charlotte would've rather written a hundred shitty break-up songs then release 'You & I' to the world; it felt like a sin to put it out for all to listen. 

Suddenly, Charlotte's Snapchat pinged beside her. Her heart dropped to her gut when she saw Luke's name flash across the screen. Tentatively, she opened the picture, it was a plate of bao dumplings from her favorite restaurant in LA. Her stomach rumbled on cue, surely the munchies would be kicking in at any moment. She smiled and sent back a picture of her sizzling joint. 

He sent her a text afterwards.

Partaking in the devil's lettuce, r we?

You shouldn't have sent me that pic. Now my munchies are on high alert.

You should come join us XP

Very funny, Mr. Comedian.

Who u hanging with? Bet they ain't as cool as me!

He didn't respond at first. Only a few seconds later did she get another snap photo, in the frame was Ashton, Bryana, their friends Roy and Paul, another young singer, Madison, and Melody. Ashton and Bryana were pulling faces for the camera, Roy had his middle finger up and Paul's cheeks were stuffed with food. Madison was making a kissing face, Melody however just had a half-assed smile; not that anybody else seemed to notice. 

Charlotte felt a jab in her heart, and the creepy shadow of loneliness climbed back into her body. She didn't even think when she typed back quickly.

No, definitely not as cool as me. 

♛♛♛

"Charlie's turning Japanese..."

"Oh, no," Charlotte groaned, "Are you filming this? I look awful!" she pulled the blanket over her face.

Luke chuckled quietly at the grainy Instagram video. In the ambient golden lights that shone against the perfectly crisp, white sheets, Charlotte's blushing pout had captured the hearts of the twenty-five-hundred-plus viewers who had liked the post, the comment section flooding with awes. 

It was fair to say that after experiencing Asia with Charlotte, Luke would never love it in the same way again. He just loved seeing how excited she became at every unique landmark, food, and city they paved through. Her elation was contagious and Luke couldn't remember a moment when he didn't smile with Charlotte by his side. 

He missed that trip already, but he was about to go away with her again. And he'd see her Bambi eyes light up as though on a steady high kick. 

The moment he heard the bathroom door open, Luke quit the app and set his phone aside. Melody came sauntering back into the room, her face clear of the makeup she wore at dinner and had changed into her Victoria Secret pajama set. She curled up beside her boyfriend on the bed, sighing in content. 

"What were you laughing at?" she asked softly, her voice sweet as honey now. 

"Just some of the tour videos Paul sent over. He's puttin' em' all together right now for the diary," he replied simply. 

Melody smiled, "I wish I could come with you guys,"

A flare of excitement surged through Luke and a part of him wanted to beg her to come. At the same time, he knew she had prior commitments and shoots planned for whichever brands she was representing now. Her work was just as important to her as his was to him and he wouldn't be the type to tear her away from it. 

"Not this time round but the next leg: it's you and me. Crossing the country like one big-ass roadtrip," he said. 

"Sounds amazing," she reached up to press a kiss to his pale lips. She tasted of spearmint toothpaste and a hint of the ginger from their dinner. 

Luke shuffled down to get comfy beside her, turning on his side and tucking his arm over the pillow. Melody had turned off the lamp and cuddled in beside him, and he was more than ready for their routine of silent whispers and pillow talk about everything and nothing at all. They did it lots when they started getting serious; they would just confide in each other about how their day went and would discuss anything that came to mind. 

However, Luke was surprised at what Melody wanted to talk about.

"I think Bryana's gonna' dump Ashton," 

Her honey-like voice dripped and burned in his ears, flaming-hot words branding into his brain. He was taken aback but how brash and upfront she was.

"What?" his nose crinkled, "What're you talking about?"

"I can just tell," Melody shrugged, "You know, you see them together but they're not really -- together. Does he talk to you about it?"

Luke was still in a state of shock, "Uh -- n-no. What -- you think she's unhappy?"

"She just doesn't seem excited like she used to be. Lost the spark in her eyes. It's a shame because they're really cute together," Melody spoke as though she was talking about the weather, so effortlessly and without mind. Luke had spent time with his best mate and his girl only mere hours ago, and there was nothing to indicate to him that there was trouble in paradise. They seemed like the perfect couple.

Perhaps that was why Melody could pick it off?

"I think you should talk to him about it," she went on, "Maybe just check in with him? I mean, I don't exactly blame her if she's on the edge; he can be a lot sometimes," 

Luke was annoyed now. He didn't fight back, but he wasn't happy. He appreciated where Melody was coming from but her angle was all wrong. And what did she mean by that: Ashton was a lot? He was just energetic, a great lad just living life. Of course he was boisterous, but Luke didn't think that was a bad thing. 

"Right," he nodded quietly, "Let's talk about something else," 

Melody frowned, sensing his change in mood, "I'm not saying it to make you upset, I just worry for him. He's still our friend; girlfriends come and go but your friends are your friends," 

Her words were wise yet incredibly poignant. It made Luke uncomfortable.

"I know... so... so I'm getting really into this girl's music. Her name's -- erm -- Halsey, I think..."

#5 second of summer imagines #5 seconds of smut #5 seconds of summer #luke hemmings #luke hemming imagines #calum hood #calum 5sos #calum hood imagines #ashton irwin #ashton 5sos #michael clifford #michael 5sos #original story #original female character #boy bands #girl bands #band blog #band imagine blog #band imagines #Charlotte Antonakis

[jamiewintons]

I posted 1,888 times in 2022

That's 955 more posts than 2021!

910 posts created (48%)

978 posts reblogged (52%)

Blogs I reblogged the most:

@jamiewintons

@adhdthomasthorne

@carolsfeelgoodstuff

@demontoucansam

@agir1ukn0w

I tagged 1,866 of my posts in 2022

Only 1% of my posts had no tags

#ask - 451 posts

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Longest Tag: 139 characters

#i just thought that thomas would definitely be the type to do the whole 'the stars are beautiful tonight' 'you know what's more beautiful?'

My Top Posts in 2022:

#5

Heya ! I read all your Thomas related writings and I must say that I love them, it's so much fun to read ! Could I request a fic or drabble where the ghost!reader who came from a similar era as Thomas, disappeared 3 years before Allison's arrival and everyone thought that she had moved on but in reality she was just asleep somewhere and they just forgot to check that specific place so reader just comes back without realising that years went by and Thomas is just in SHOCK 😂 thank you !!

This was a fun idea! I hope you enjoy what I wrote, anon!

Warnings: One s*xual comment (made by Julian). Both Thomas and the reader being dramatic and sappy.

As your eyes fluttered open and you looked around at your surroundings, you realised you'd fallen asleep in the attic. Again. You really needed to stop wandering up there.

You had a bad habit of falling asleep in the strangest of places, which you believed was a lasting effect of your death. You had died in your sleep, and would often find yourself so tired that you'd take very long naps, sometimes for days on end if no one came to wake you. Though this time, you had seemed to have awoken on your own. That was good. You hated to be a bother.

Enthusiastic to get to go and see your fellow ghosts, you stood from your rather uncomfortable sleeping place on the floor with a yawn. You walked out through the wall and descended the stairs, taking a look around you as you strolled through the hallway. Everything looked… nicer. Far less dilapidated. No cobwebs littering the ceiling corners. No dripping water. You couldn’t imagine that Heather had been going around cleaning and repairing things, the poor woman was so old and frail that she could barely find the strength to leave her bed most days. Plus, her money had all but run out, so she hardly could have been hiring people to do it for her.

All of those thoughts seemed to leave your head when you saw a familiar head of dark brown curls walking around the corner, and with a smile and a wave, you greeted him.

“Good morning, Thomas, it’s lovely to see you,” you said politely, and watched the man stop dead in his tracks.

Thomas’ eyes went wider than you’d ever seen them as he stared at you unblinkingly. “H…heavens above…” he stammered, “This is… what on Earth?”

“Oh, Thomas, are you feeling alright?” you asked him, concerned. His eyes grew wider still when you placed a gentle hand on his arm, and he spent a few more moments simply staring at you, utterly flabbergasted, before abruptly turning away and bolting through a wall.

As you stood there alone, you felt your heart sink. What was wrong with Thomas this morning? He was usually so happy to see you, all sweet smiles and kind words. Had you done something to offend him? The two of you were getting along perfectly fine the last time you spoke, and that was only yesterday. What could have changed?

Dejected, you turned and walked back towards where you had awoken in the attic.

*

“Everybody, please, be quiet for a moment, I beg of you!” Thomas exclaimed, nearly tripping over his own feet as he burst through the wall into the common room, where all of the other ghosts were sitting, seemingly listening to something that the Captain was saying.

“What is it, Thorne?” The Captain asked, sounding more than a little impatient. “I think you will find that we were all supposed to meet here at–”

“Y/N! She was there! I saw her! Oh, good God, I thought she was gone forever…” Thomas collapsed dramatically into the chair by the window, almost as if he had fainted, but he was wide awake.

“Y/N? Who’s Y/N?” inquired Alison, who Thomas had surprisingly not noticed was present in the room until she spoke up.

“Another ghost that lived here a while ago. Moved on a few years before you showed up,” Pat explained as he adjusted his glasses. “Didn’t even get a chance to say goodbye to her.”

“Thomas in big love with her,” Robin added with an amused smirk. “He cry for days when she leave.”

“I did not cry for days, actually, I–”

“Was she wearing all of her clothes when you saw her?” Julian interjected, with a smirk of his own, though his was far more mischievous than Robin’s had been.

Thomas let out a loud, scandalised gasp. “Of course she was!”

Julian shrugged nonchalantly. “I thought you might have been having one of those dreams,” he said with a wink, as if his tone didn’t convey what kind of dream he was talking about. “I mean, everyone knows how much you wanted to f–”

Thankfully the Captain cut Julian off before he could finish his sentence, which would certainly have caused he and Thomas to begin fighting, and not for the first time. “Yes, thank you, Julian. Anyway, Y/N has been gone for years, so Thorne can’t have seen her.”

“I swear, she was right in front of me! She said good morning… and touched my arm…” Thomas was holding his hand over his heart, which surely would have been beating frantically if he were still alive. “I was shocked, of course, so I ran down here, and–Oh God, I left her so suddenly, I hope I haven’t upset her.”

Thomas looked back to his fellow ghosts, noticing that they were all still staring at him with either disbelief, sympathy, or a mix of both. He scoffed, offended. “Fine. If you all doubt me, I shall go and find her myself, and prove to you that I am not simply imagining things.”

He stormed out of the room through the wall, irritated that no one believed what he was saying. Why on Earth would he imagine you there, after you being gone for three years? In all honesty, he did his best to not think about you, it hurt him far too much. You had gone and moved on before he’d had the chance to tell you how he felt… if only he’d gathered his courage sooner…

But none of that mattered now, because you were back. Thomas had no idea how, but he was never going to question such a glorious miracle. Why would he? It didn’t matter how it happened, only that it had. Under the initial shock, he still felt the same warmth in his chest when he looked at you; something that should have been impossible owing to the fact that he was dead.

Thomas went back to where he had seen you earlier, though you were no longer there. That made sense he supposed, he had been gone for a while as he argued with everyone else about whether you existed at all. He wouldn’t expect you to just stand there in the hallway and wait around for him. 

So he traversed the hallways, searching for where you could have got to.

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217 notes - Posted May 8, 2022

#4

I saw this TikTok and immediately thought it had intense Thomas Thorne energy. (Source)

264 notes - Posted April 26, 2022

#3

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307 notes - Posted March 17, 2022

#2

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316 notes - Posted May 12, 2022

My #1 post of 2022

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506 notes - Posted January 15, 2022

Get your Tumblr 2022 Year in Review →

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