#I’ve been told I shouldn’t smoke so young

[takeyourcyanide]

God, i need to smoke. Fortunately I should get to either today or tomorrow. But it’s highly likely I won’t experience the effects of nicotine since I only have one left right now. I’m going to huff that thing like no one’s ever huffed before

[agustdakasuga]

The Way Of A Criminal: Chapter 7

Genre: Mafia!AU, Criminal!AU, Angst, Romance

Pairing: OT7 x Reader

Characters: Normal!Reader, Gangster!Namjoon, Gangster!Seokjin, Gangster!Yoongi, Gangster!Hoseok, Gangster!Jimin, Gangster!Taehyung, Gangster!Jungkook

Summary: Your father was a stranger, you never knew who he was and what he did. But one day, someone knocks on your door, informing you of his passing. Now, you learn more about him, his life and the legacy you are expected to continue with the help of his 7 executives.

Story warning(s): This story will contain depictions of violence, blood shed/gore, death, mentions of abuse, smoking, alcohol drinking and gambling. This story is fictional and has nothing to do with real life events or the actual members of BTS. Please read at your own discretion.

Jin was right. As the boys were all dressed and ready to head out for the day, they definitely didn’t expect you to be standing there at the front door. Your hand was frozen mid air, as if you were going to ring the doorbell.

“Oh!” You took a step back in surprise. You had stood there for a good 5 minutes, totally unnoticed by the staff of the mansion.

“(y/n).” They all spoke, not bothering to mask their surprise as well.

“Sorry, is this a bad time? I can totally come back again and-”

“No, it’s not. Please, come in. We can talk inside.” Namjoon regained composure first, gesturing towards the inner sanctions of the house. You bowed your head respectfully and removed your shoes before walking behind them. You sat with them in the living room once again, giving you a sense of deja vu. Jungkook ordered drinks and snacks.

As the butlers and maids rushed to fix drinks and snacks, not having prepared since the owners of the house were supposed to be out working the entire day, you sat there, wringing the material of your skirt.

“Calm down.” Taehyung placed a hand on your shoulder and you visibly relaxed, just a little.

“Young masters, agashi.” The butler bowed as he placed the tray of drinks down. With a wave of his hand, Namjoon sent the staff out.

“I... I wanted to apologise, firstly.” You suddenly stood up, bowing deeply to all of them. Another unexpected action from you. The boys all looked at each other, unsure of how to act or respond.

“I’ve been selfish and insensitive. Whatever my relationship was or... wasn’t with that man, I shouldn’t have been acting so immature. Sorry.” You said, head still bowed.

“(y/n), i-tt’s fine. Let’s sit down and talk.” Jin said, going forward as you straightened up. He gestured for you to take your seat again.

“You have all lost somebody, who I am sure... is... was... very important to you. And instead of grieving, you’ve been having to chase me around and pacify me. That wasn’t fair to you.” You looked at all of them. Jimin rolled his eyes, keeping his gaze on the side.

“I’m sorry.” You repeated.

“(y/n), it’s okay, really. Stop apologising.” Hoseok said.

“Idiot. I told you not to let the words get to you.” Yoongi sat up from his leaned position on the armchair. You pursed your lips, knowing he was referring to your conversation that happened when he was at your place a few nights ago.

“What Yoongi hyung said aside, we’re glad you came, (y/n). It was also our fault for pushing you and letting things get so far. We want to apologise for that.” Namjoon said.

“Hyung-”

“Jimin.” Jin stopped the younger from interrupting their leader. Taehyung patted his best friend on the hand. A silent signal to just let it go.

“I don’t really know where to go from this. My mother, she was my world. And if she believed in me working with you, for some reason, I should try. And like you said, I’m being targeted, if this grants me safety, so be it.” You confessed.

“But I don’t know anything in business.” You added.

“I’m not going to lie, we were not expecting that. But thank you, (y/n). I would say, don’t worry. We will guide you slowly on how this words, as necessary. But I think, we should get to know one another more before we get into all that business stuff.” Namjoon spoke, the first one to recover from being stunned by your words.

“Yeah. We’re the best at what we do. Don’t care about not having the skills and whatnot.” Hoseok nodded in agreement.

“So filial piety is what moves you.” Yoongi added.

“Yes. If it doesn’t work, it doesn’t work. But I should at least give it a chance. If I don’t like it, I get closer to knowing what I really want.” You replied. Yoongi raised his eyebrows in amusement at you rephrasing his words.

“But, I... still can’t accept him as my father... I’m sorry.” You hung your head down low.

“We understand. Take your time. Fresh wounds take time to heal. Don’t force it.” Jin reached over to squeeze your shoulder.

“Thank you for taking the time to speak to me, even if I don’t deserve it. I should let you all get back to what you were doing now.” You stood up, rubbing your slightly sweaty palms on your skirt.

“First thing to learn, don’t speak of yourself as an inconvenience. If we didn’t think you’d deserved it or that you were a bother, we wouldn’t have given you the time of day. Trust me, we’re busy people.” Hoseok stopped you. You felt your cheeks heat up in embarrassment.

“Shall I take you home?” Taehyung asked.

“Actually, can I speak to Namjoon sshi in private?” You requested meekly. The boys all paused, turning to the leader, who just remained stoic.

“Sure. Right this way. We can talk in my office.” Namjoon said. He guided you to his office. You bowed to the other 6 before rushing after Namjoon. You followed him up the stairs.

“Can I get you a drink?” He asked as he closed the door behind you.

“No, thanks.” You said. He gestured for you to take a seat while he sat down in his seat, on his side of the desk.

“I-I just wanted to apologise to you... the most. Since we met, I’ve just been a horrible person. I’ve been stand offish and unfair.” You sighed.

“(y/n), (y/n). There’s nothing for you to be sorry about. I understand, I’ve not exactly been the bearer of good news since I showed up at your door. Anyone would have felt and reacted the same way you did, I don’t hold any animosity or resentment. In fact, I think I’m still reeling from the shock of you being here and accepting this quickly.” Namjoon confessed.

“Well, I wouldn’t really say accept. More of... try. If my mother thought I could do it, I guess she saw something that I didn’t. Or maybe she’s just a hopeful parent, wanting her child to succeed.” You shrugged.

“But I will be safer with you all?” You asked.

“I believe so. There are guards and security in place to keep you safe. Rather than being alone in your house without any guards.” He said.

“Do we know why I am targeted yet? Like I said, I don’t know anything... My mother never really told me much about her life. I’m still finding things out now, even after her death.”

“I promise we’re trying our best to find out why you’re being targetted and by who. Although, it is probably because you’re the daughter of your father and now that he isn’t around anymore, you could be the target to attain his company.” Namjoon explained.

“I see...” You gulped.

“(y/n), even if you don’t work with us, you can still be protected by us. You don’t have to force yourself to work in the company just to be granted protection.” Namjoon assured.

“But I can’t just ask you guys to help me without anything in exchange. It is not fair and right to do that.” You said.

“Let’s be realistic here. Theoretically, if you don’t like all this or it doesn’t suit you, what will you do then?” Namjoon leaned forward on his elbows.

“I’ll sign my rights as the head of the company and my inheritance away.” You declared. Namjoon seemed to contemplate your words for a moment before nodding his head, understanding.

While you were speaking to Namjoon, the other 6 had not left the house for their scheduled meetings yet.

“When did you get so close with her, hyung?” Taehyung asked.

“We’re not close. We just had a meal and talked.” Yoongi shrugged, not giving much away.

“The one that would have the most information on her would be Jin hyung.” Hoseok pointed out. Jin didn’t react. Whatever he knew was not relevant to information that the others needed to know.Jimin rolled his eyes and walked away. Jungkook noticed and chased after his older brother.

“Hyung. You okay?” Jungkook asked as they entered the garage carpark downstairs. Jimin stopped, his back still facing the youngest.

“Do you believe her? Everything she says.” Jimin asked, leaning against the hood of his car with a bitter chuckle. He took a hit of his vape before stuffing it back into his jacket pocket.

“What’s there to believe? If she wants the work, she can work. She came here to apologise. What else?” Jungkook put his hands into his pockets, an indifferent look on his face to show that he didn’t really care.

“I don’t like her.”

“I think you have made that very clear.” Jungkook replied.

“Why are you all being so nice to her? Just because she is our boss’ daughter? We never let anything into our circle and now look. It feels like we’re falling apart trying to chase after her.” Jimin yelled in frustration.

“We’re all doing this to help Namjoon hyung. Namjoon hyung wants to make this work, not because she is our boss’ daughter but beccause it was his promise to boss before he died. He couldn’t make up with her so he wants us to do it in his stead. Besides, we haven’t really given her much of a fighting chance.” Jungkook said.

“She’s our boss’ daughter but what about us? Didn’t we all see him or regard him as our father? The way she treats him like nothing?” Jimin asked.

“But that’s not exactly her fault, hyung. Yes, he was a father figure to all 7 of us. But what about her? She was abandoned, just like all of us were by our own parents.” The younger spoke truthfully.

“I know...” Jimin stood up, blinking back his tears. He entered his car and drove off, leaving the maknae there, standing in the carpark.

“Jungkook. Why are you just standing there? Ready to go?” Hoseok came downstairs.

“Yeah...” Jungkook shook his head to regain composure. He entered the car, where Hoseok was waiting for him in the passenger seat. Starting the engine, he began to drive.

“What, Tae? Why are you looking at me like that?” Yoongi asked.

“Nothing.” Taehyung slid off the bar stool and walked out, slipping on his jacket. He headed towards the front door, where his driver was waiting for him. Jin gathered his things, tucking his iPad under his arm. Seeing the oldest ready to leave, Yoongi stood up.

“What? You reluctant to leave?” Jin teased. Yoongi rolled his eyes, walking off and leaving Jin behind. Yoongi dropped Jin off at his meeting location before heading to his own work place.

After speaking with Namjoon, he offered to drop you back home. When you came down with him, you noticed that the living room was empty.

“Must have all gone to work.” Namjoon said.

“Wow.” You couldn’t hold back your shock when you followed Namjoon down to the basement garage. There were so many expensive cars lined up, it was a lot. You followed Namjoon to one of the cars, a Bugatti.

“Watch your head.” He cautioned as he opened the passenger door for you to enter. After that, he went to the driver’s side and drove to your house.

“If you ever need help, here is my number.” Namjoon handed you a card as he dropped you off.

“Thank you, Namjoon.” You received the card with two hands. You opened the car door and walked into your house. Like the others, Namjoon waited for you to go in before driving off.

“Oh my gosh.” You sunk onto the ground, putting a hand over your racing heart. It felt like your heart was beating too fast to the point where you felt nauseous. Where did your sudden confidence come from? That you would voluntarily go down to the mansion and speak to the 7 men like that. But now, your facade could break.

RINGGGGGG

“Huh?!” You jumped in shock, fumbling for your phone.

“Oh, hey Wonwoo... Yeah, I wasn’t feeling well, that’s why I haven’t been at university. It’s mainly online work anyway.” You pressed the phone between your ear and shoulder.

“No, you don’t need to come down. I’m fine, really. I should be better by tomorrow.” You dug through your fridge, looking for something to eat.

You’ve skipped university for three days without a note or message, which probably worried Wonwoo. But with everything else, university was the last thing on your mind. Only Wonwoo would notice your absence anyway.

“No need, I’ll just collect my work from the professors. Thanks... I’ll see you tomorrow.” You said and hung up.

Jimin didn’t know where he was driving to, he just kept driving, letting the loud roar of his car’s engine fill the air. He never liked change, he didn’t like new people, he was happy with what he had now.

The fact that his brothers are so ready to accept you was beyond him. He didn’t know what your intentions were and from his duties in Bangtan, he learnt not to trust people so easily. He has met all kinds of scum from all walks of life and he knew there was always an ulterior motive.

RINGGGGG

“Yes, Namjoon hyung?” Jimin answered.

“Are you going for the poker game tonight? The secretary minister will be there for an information trade.”

“Right... I forgot about the game tonight... Since there’s an information trade, I’ll go. Jungkook and Jin hyung won’t be able to go in my stead. Let me know where tonight’s game is later.” He replied.

“Alright, I will prepare the address and ask Jin hyung for the information packet to hand over.”

Jimin possessed a combination of Jin’s card game skills and Taehyung’s deception skills, which made him the best person to play these low profile, high stakes games. He knew how to read the players and the game.

“Boss.” The staff greeted Jimin when he walked in.

“How’s business been?” He asked as he inspected the space and the bar. He hasn’t been checking in on the businesses since Namjoon told him to take a break so he was using this time to ensure that operations were still running smoothly. The manager made Jimin a drink and handed him the money from the previous nights of work.

“Not bad...” Jimin commented as he counted the money on the bar counter. Clubs were the best place to earn money.

“Here. Take everyone out for a good dinner. For working hard despite my absence.” He handed the manager $1000 from the stack. The manager’s eyes widened as he received the money.

“T-Thank you boss!” Everyone bowed deeply.

“Continue to work hard.” Jimin said as he put the remaining money into his pocket and left. There were still other places of business to visit.

After he was done with his inspections, Jimin needed to head home to get ready. He picked out a nice suit, one that was more opulent than what he would wear for work.

“Jimin?” He heard Hoseok’s voice outside his door as he was doing his hair.

“Come in.” He replied, not turning away from the mirror. The older came in with a few boxes and placed them on the dresser.

“Here, your order came in. Just in time, I’m guessing.” Hoseok informed. Jimin put the hairdryer down and looked through the boxes. He pinned the rose diamond brooch to the collar of his suit jacket and picked out other accessories to wear tonight.

“Could you help me put the rest of them in my closet?” Jimin requested. Hoseok nodded and put the rest into Jimin’s already full closet. He sat down on the couch Jimin had in his room.

“What?” Jimin stopped, turning around to look at the other.

“You good?” Hoseok asked. Jimin shrugged but nodded his head, facing the mirror again. He fixed his earrings in place.

“I know you’re here to talk to me about (y/n). There’s nothing to talk about, I don’t have anything else to say.” Jimin said, going into his closet to retrieve his shoes, deciding to go with his chelsea boots that had a small heel.

“Okay. But Chim, don’t feel like we’re against you or suddenly on her side against yours, alright?”

“Mhmm.” Jimin hummed. He stood up as he was done getting ready. Hoseok followed him out of the room and Jimin locked his room doors.

“Good luck tonight.” Hoseok wished.

“You know I always win.” Jimin smirked. Now, he needed to find Jin to get his information for the trade tonight. When he arrived at his door, there was a note and a thumbdrive taped to the wood.

‘Sleeping, do not disturb. To Jimin, this is what you need. - Jin’

Jimin tilted his head but removed the thumbdrive, peeling off the tape. He slipped the small item into his jacket pocket and went to find Namjoon. The leader was in his office, on the phone with someone. Seeing Jimin poke his head in, he waved for him to come over and slid a folder over to him. It had some information and a picture of Jimin’s target for the night.

“I’m going now.” Jimin said and Namjoon nodded, giving him a thumbs up as he listened to whoever was on the other side of the phone.

“Young master Jimin, the car is ready for you.” The butler informed. Jimin walked out and the chauffeur opened the door for him. Since it was expected of him to drink, Jimin never drove.

With the address, Jimin watched as the car entered a residential area. It stopped before a rundown fishing shop.

“A fishing and tackle shop? Seriously?” Jimin scoffed as he wore his sunglasses. The chauffeur opened the car door for him to come out. He pushed open the shop door to enter but the cashier paid him no mind.

“Right this way.” An employee led Jimin to the back, opening a door that led to the basement.

“Welcome, Mr Park.” A more well-dressed hostress greeted him.

“Can I take your jacket?” She asked.

“I’ll hold onto it. My drink is rum, on the rocks.” Jimin informed. She nodded with a bow and led Jimin further in. She opened a door where Jimin saw the game already running. He went to the bar first.

“Rum on the rocks.” The bartender placed his drink onto the black marble counter top.

“Mr Park. Glad you could make it tonight.”

“Secretary minister. Of course, I wouldn’t miss a game organised by you.” Jimin planted on his fake smile as he shook hands with the secretary minister. He was the organiser of this underground game, all a ruse for him to exchange information with Bangtan.

“I look forward to seeing you play tonight.” The old man smiled. Jimin just nodded his head. After that, he walked away. Jimin scanned the room from his position at the bar, there were many notable politicians and celebrities.

“Here.” Jimin handed a tip to the bartender, taking his glass to the table.

Everyone was focused on the game. No one noticed the note taped to the bottom of Jimin’s glass or the thumbdrive wrapped in the tip bills Jimin handed to the bartender.

Tonight was going to be a good night to play.

~~

Series Masterlist

Ko-Fi

Main masterlist

[lili863]

Animagus

(pt 3)

Matteo Riddle x MC

AN: Enemies to lovers, Quidditch, banter, conspiracies, dark arts, manipulation, death eaters, Slytherin boys, kissing

Masterlist

People parted like waves as a furious young Slytherin stormed into the common room. The echoes of today's tryouts still lingered in the halls, and if Matteo had to hear one more whisper about that irritating, holier-than-thou Hufflepuff, he was going to explode.

His long fingers toyed with the strings of his chest gear before he ripped it off and flung it to the floor in front of the couch where his friends sat.

"Calm down, mate, it was barely a game," Blaise tried to reassure him. Draco and Enzo, sitting beside Theo, turned their eyes to the Matteo, now seething with rage.

"Barely?! It was four against one, and that girl almost had us. She shouldn’t have even been on her last lap before we were done with her" Matteo collapsed into a chair, running a hand through his hair in frustration.

"It was fucking embarrassing with half the bloody school watching".

"Look, it was a close call, but we still won" Blaise replied "Besides, she wasn’t your average player. She's experienced, with some of the best speed stats in the entire school. It’s no wonder Rolanda wanted her."

Matteo knew all this. He had known the moment he started playing against you. But accepting that you were simply a good player and that they had underestimated you was hard to swallow.

Not to mention the sickly sweet scent of your perfume clung to his clothes after the altercation earlier, and now he was reminded of you with every inhale.

This day just couldn't get worse. But that was wishful thinking.

"I dont give a shit about stats Blaise. If her's are great then what does that say about ours"? Matteo kept his voice level. But everyone could feel the simmering rage behind his tone.

Theo groaned in response, now sitting up from his chair as well. "All we're saying is we played against a good one. The end. Now get over it and stop making a scene"

He flipped the smoking blunt before offering it to Matteo, who snatched it.

"Fuck off".

The curt reply had Theo smirk as he exhaled the last bit of smoke from his lips.

“She’s cute though.”

Snickers erupted from the rest of the boys as Matteo blew smoke in Theo’s direction, kicking his chair.

“Yeah, with anger issues to match. Did you see the way she grabbed his collar and shook him?” Draco laughed.

Everyone joined in, but Matteo rolled his eyes and took another long hit, frustration etched into every line of his face.

“Merlin, she was pissed. I don’t think I’ve ever seen a Hufflepuff that angry,” Blaise chuckled, leaning back with an amused glint in his eye.

“Thought it was over for Riddle here,” Draco chuckled.

"Why is it the one day I miss practice, the craziest shit happens?" Enzo complained, throwing his hands up.

"Just your luck, mate," Blaise grinned, nudging him.

"My luck—"

“She knows about the deal.” Matteo’s words cut through the air like a knife, silencing everyone.

They froze, processing his words before exchanging uneasy glances, their previous mirth evaporating.

“You told her?” Theo leaned forward, his eyes widening.

“She would have found out eventually with Ripple being the cunt that he is. I thought she would just… quit the team if I told her what was going on.” Matteo explained taking in another whiff of her perfume, debating whether he should wash it off or not.

“So… what? The deal’s off?” Enzo asked, his voice tinged with worry.

Matteo shook his head with a sigh. “No. But it might as well be with her joining the team.”

“What about Ripple? I mean, he’s the captain. No way he's going to let her do anything to fuck up this deal,” Enzo tried to reassure.

“He doesn’t have a choice. If she decides the team has to play fair, then Ripple is gonna have to go along with it. Otherwise, she might snitch to Rolanda about everything,” Blaise said, nursing his drink before taking a final swig.

"Matt?" Theo gave him a look that made the group exchange worried glances.

Matteo shook his head before his eyes flickered over to Blaise, who swiftly grabbed his wand and cast a quick silencing bubble.

“Alright, now that that’s done. Tell me how badly we’re fucked,” Blaise asked, his tone turning serious.

“Unless we get her to quit the team, Ripple won’t fucking cooperate,” Matteo clenched his jaw, the thought of Ripple infuriating him.

“Why does he need her off the team so badly? She doesn’t even have proof of the deal,” Theo added, frowning.

“It's not only Rolanda he's concerned about, it's also the entire Hufflepuff team. If Wynn decides to tell them, it's going to be fucking chaos, which is going to jeopardize our whole bargain with the prick,” Matteo stated, his frustration mounting.

"Look," Draco called out, "Now that she's in the team, Hufflepuff is going to have decent plays, and we can't just lose to that. I know this deal's important, but we're going to plunge Slytherin's reputation straight to hell."

"I agree," Enzo added. "I doubt the rest of the team will stay compliant if we let that happen."

"How is this even up for discussion? You all know finding that map chamber is more important. That's the only thing keeping Riddle from blasting Ripple through the window of the highest tower in this castle". Blaise pointed out.

Theo scoffed "He better be counting his lucky stars he knows the location".

All this just because Wynn Cromwell decided to play quidditch, it was so ridiculous he almost laughed.

She was proving to be more trouble than Matteo had thought. More than he signed up for.

"Then it's simple," Matteo called out. "She needs to go."

"And how do we propose we do that" Theo asked "Last time I checked, Hufflepuffs would rather eat shit then take a bribe".

Matteo chuckled, flicking the blunt to the table in front. "Aint that the fucking truth"?

All he could picture was the defiance in your eyes and the way your tiny fists clutched, burrowed into your cloak. And then you spoke. And it's was as if you would rather watch the world burn then let him trample all over you.

No.

You sure as hell wouldnt a take a bribe.

But he couldn't let you frolic all over his plans because your moral compass was bigger than the size of his ego.

If he needed to break your heart or crush your will. He will do it.

"We find her weakness," Matteo spoke "Everyone has one. We just need to dig deep enough."

Draco leaned forward, his expression thoughtful. "And if we can't find one?"

Matteo's gaze flickered over to Draco, his eyes cold and calculating. "Then we create one."

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

It had been about a week since your confrontation with Matteo Riddle, and you were avoiding him like the plague.

You were certain he was out to get you, and paranoia gripped you at every turn, expecting to see his face and the sly smile.

You still couldn't forget the look on his face when he had cornered you against that wall. You had seen people angry before, from those who got up in your face to those who tried to duel you outright.

But the terrifying part was that he didn’t just look angry. He looked sinister. You always thought anger felt hot, like blood rushing through your veins, spiking your adrenaline like a drug.

But with him, it felt cold. Dark. Malevolent.

It was as if he could devour you in that tiny corner, leaving you as nothing more than a hollow shell.

A part of you felt like this whole situation had nothing to do you with and everything to do with that conniving Harrison Ripple.

Ever since Matteo told you about the deal, your practices on the field had been fraught with anxiety, especially with Ripple breathing down your neck during every training session.

It didn’t take you long to realize, after noticing Ripple's pointed hostility directed solely at you, that the rest of the Hufflepuff team had no idea about the secret deal.

His glares and veiled threats were reserved exclusively for you, making it clear that your teammates were completely unaware of the underhanded agreements that tainted their genuine efforts on the field.

Which was as sad as it was disheartening. You knew it wasn't the team's fault, but you couldn't help but think about the potential impact on their morale if they ever learned the truth.

And now every time you see Ripple in the hallways, your felt a powerful urge to whip out your wand, and blast him across the school.

Rubbing your face tiredly, you walked into the bustling dining hall. Rowdy students filled the long tables, chatting and laughing after a long day of classes and clubs.

"Wynn"! familiar female voice shouted.

Your head snapped toward the sound and you saw Hermione and Ginny sitting together, waving at you. A smile spread across your lips as you walked over to them.

"Where have you been? I've been looking for you," Hermione exclaimed.

"Studying" You groaned. My brain is absolutely fried".

You took a seat besides them before fill your plate with mashed potatoes and roasted chicken.

"And bring chased by a certain Slytherin, I've noticed," Ginny mumbled, taking a sip of her juice.

You nearly jumped at her words "What?! Where?! Where is he"?!

Hermoine and Ginny looked at each other alarmed and half confused as they saw you scanning your surrounding in a panic.

"I only asked becuse I keep seeing him or his group everywhere you go". Ginny says before looking around with you.

"I knew it!" You banged your fist on the table, causing an immediate silence from the people around you as they all turned to stare. The loud clatter of utensils against plates ceased, and the murmur of conversations abruptly stopped. All eyes were on you, a mix of curiosity and irritation on their faces.

You felt the heat rising to your cheeks as you realized the scene you had just caused. "Sorry, sorry," you mumbled, lowering your gaze and rubbing the back of your neck. The students around you slowly resumed their conversations, though a few continued to glance your way, whispering to each other.

"Merlin Wynn. Is Riddle still bothering you?" Hermione asked, raising an eyebrow.

"Not since last week. And honestly, the last thing I need is to run into him and be manhandled by the jerk," you grumbled, shoving another forkful of food into your mouth.

"MANHANDLED?!" Both Ginny and Hermione whisper shouted.

Your mouth was full of food as you looked down, trying your hardest not to burst into laughter.

"You really can't expect us to stay quiet after dropping that bomb! What the bloody hell do you mean by manhandled? Did he touch you or hit you?" Hermione scolded.

You inhaled deeply, nodding. "Yeah, you're right, I should have worded that better. No, he didn't hit me. He just… he grabbed my chest gear and shoved me into the wall before threatening me like his life depended on it. So…"

You ended your awkward explanation, finding complete silence from your friends and their jaws dropped.

"Is he deranged?" Ginny finally broke the silence.

You snorted. "I'd like to think so, yes. Especially since this was after he grabbed me mid-air at the Quidditch tryouts and dragged me off my broom, just to plummet hundreds of feet with no regard for his safety or mine."

Hermione scoffed, shaking her head. "It almost sounds like he's out to get you Wynn, bloody hell"

You nodded, "It sure feels that way...."

Ginny, always ready to lighten the mood, jumped in with a grin. "You know, maybe he’s just jealous. After all, Rolanda practically begged you to join"

You chuckled, grateful for the distraction. "Jealous? More like he's got a stick permanently lodged somewhere uncomfortable."

Hermione smirked. "Or maybe he’s just mad that you gave him and the Slytherins a run for their galleons."

Ginny laughed. "Yeah, that’s it! Or perhaps he’s secretly a Hufflepuff at heart and doesn’t know how to express his true feelings."

You burst into laughter, the tension easing from your shoulders. "Right, Matteo Riddle, closet Hufflepuff. That’s a headline I’d love to see."

Hermione added, "Or he’s upset because he doesn’t have your charm. Maybe he tried to compliment someone and ended up insulting them instead."

Ginny leaned in, her eyes twinkling. "Or he’s just frustrated because he can't figure out why his hair doesn’t look as good as yours in the wind."

All three of you burst into laughter, your worries vanished for now.

_________________________________

The sound of wind whizzed past your ears as you zipped through the field at lightening speed surpassing all your Hufflepuff teammates. With a powerful throw, you sent the ball soaring through the hoop, scoring another point.

"Yeah"! Your cheer was matched with several other form your teammates all just as excited.

It was practice day and for once Ripple was late for some reason allowing you and your teammates to practice without his supervision.

It was practice day, and for once, Ripple was late, allowing you and your team to train without his constant supervision.

You, along with the rest of the team, reveled in the freedom from his controlling tactics. Everyone’s skills were shining through, making you wonder why Ripple had felt the need to strike that deal in the first place. Sure, your team needed more practice and wasn’t about to win the Quidditch Cup any time soon, but with the way you were practicing, it could be as little as a year before that changed.

The practice match was reaching its fever pitch, and the atmosphere on the field crackled with intensity. Your teammate Emma, her voice ringing with enthusiasm, called out, “Last round, everyone! Let’s make it count!”

You surged into action, your broom slicing through the crisp air as you maneuvered into your designated position. The quaffle soared high above the field, and Jake, one of your more reliable teammates, caught it with deft precision. He accelerated, weaving through the opposing team’s defense as he aimed for their hoops.

With a practiced flare, you shot forward, gliding effortlessly ahead of Jake. “Jake!” you shouted.

Jake understood what you wanted from the look on your face releasing the ball with a perfectly timed throw. However, as the quaffle flew through the air, Alex, a defender from the opposing team, streaked from his post with lightning speed. In a swift, calculated maneuver, Alex rammed his broom into the back of yours, sending you spiraling off balance.

"Shit"! You tumbled backward, tyring to ragain control as fast as you could.

Before you could fully recover, Alex executed a daring mid-air flip, using the momentum to strike the quaffle with the back of his broom.

Everyone eyes momentarily followed the quaffle as the ball arced through the air, landing deftly in the hands of his teammate, Lisa. Lisa wasted no time, launching the quaffle through the hoops for a spectacular goal.

The opposing team erupted in cheers, their shouts of victory echoing across the pitch. You couldn’t help but nod, a genuine smile spreading across your face as you acknowledged the impressive play.

“We almost had it,” Jake complained, but you couldn’t miss the grin tugging at the corners of his mouth. Alex, turning around, spread his arms in a mock gesture of triumph. His grin was lighthearted, a playful taunt rather than a challenge.

Unable to hold back, you burst into laughter. The sound was infectious, and Jake quickly darted off to chase Alex, his own laughter joining the fray.

You eyes met with Lisa and gave a thumbs-up, appreciating the skill and audacity involved.

Just as you were about join the rest of players to head inside, a shout rung out near you.

"Is this what we're doing now"!

You followed the sound of the voice to a very pissed off looking Ripple now making his way over to Alex and Jake.

"Just fuck all when I am not around huh"?!

The field fell into a tense silence as everyone turned to watch the confrontation. Alex, visibly rattled, stared at the ground, his nerves fraying under Ripple’s harsh glare.

You flew closer to hear the conversation as did everyone else.

“I am confused. Did we just all switch positions when while I was gone"?

Jake, caught between frustration and embarrassment, tried to offer some words of comfort.

“Mate, calm down—” Jake began, but Ripple’s scowl only deepened.

“Cause if you’re not happy as the goalie, talk to me,” Ripple snapped. “I won’t have you pulling that shit when the matches start.”

Your finger clenched around the broom watching the altercation with mounting frustration.

Ripple’s scolding continued, his tone dripping with venom “You’re jeopardizing our entire strategy! We have set positions for a reason, and you’ve just made us look like we don't know how to play the damn game!”

The rest of the team exchanged uneasy glances, their faces betraying a mix of concern and frustration. The atmosphere was thick with the weight of unsaid words and repressed emotions.

"See, this is exactly the reason we haven’t won many games—"

“Are you sure that’s the reason?!” Your voice cut through the air, sharp and challenging. Everyone’s eyes snapped toward you as you flew toward the pair.

“Maybe it’s your inability to see the bigger picture,” you finished, coming face-to-face with Ripple.

Ripple’s face darkened further at your presence. “And what would that be? That you’re all somehow better than how you play? Gonna try to blame it on brooms or what you ate for breakfast today?”

“No, Ripple,” you said, your voice steady despite the storm of emotions raging inside you. “The reason we’re not playing to our full potential is entirely on you, I fear.”

Even without looking around, you could sense the shift in the atmosphere as your words hung in the air.

"Fuck off Cromwell" Ripple sneered.

You clenched your broom tighter, your knuckles turning white as you fought to keep your composure. “Hard to believe, Captain? Alex didn’t break any rules. If you were as competent as you make yourself out to be, you would have seen that a mile away.”

You didn’t let him get another word in. “He stayed close enough to his post for it not to be a foul. That was an impressive play, and all you’re doing is undermining the team’s morale.”

Ripple’s eyes narrowed “What do you know? Think your an ace or something"?

At this point you knew your composure was too far gone, perhaps barely hanging on by a thread.

"My stats should give you an answer"

Whispers and small snickers could be heard as the Ripple face continued to turn more red. Concerningly so.

"Hufflepuff has a playbook that everyone should adhere to! That includes you. So you and stats can kick rocks Cromwell cause I don't give a bloody shite.”

You watched him flinch as you shot forward now inches from his broom “Oh, give me a break. Your playbook is nothing but a farce that’s choking our potential. Alex made a great play, and all you’re doing is creating setbacks for the team. Face it, Ripple. You don’t have the faintest clue how to lead Hufflepuff to victory. Either you’re utterly clueless or just a downright terrible player. Irregardless, you’re a catastrophic failure as captain.”

A collective gasp swept through the field, the sharpness of your words hanging in the air. Ripple’s face couldn't contain the shock before it simmered to anger, “We’ll continue this conversation somewhere else. Everyone get to the showers!”

You scoffed watching him turn around and descend to the ground murmuring "Yeah I bet he gets off on the whatever power he thinks he has here"

You shot Alex a reassuring smile who gave you a grateful smile, your voice softening despite the intensity of the moment. “You did nothing wrong, Alex. That was a fantastic play. Don’t let Ripple’s nonsense get to you.”

You could see everyone flying up to you to say something but you quickly needed to follow Ripple. Something told you, both of you had a lot to discuss.

With one final reassuring smile to your teammates you followed him towards the castle, your heart pounding with adrenaline from the confrontation.

You walked across the field, your boots crunching on the grass as you approached the castle doors. But an unsettling sensation crept over you. You slowed, glancing around as the lingering eyes of spectators from the practice match followed you, but something still felt off.

You shook it off, pushing through the castle doors and disappearing inside, unaware that Matteo gaze followed you with a meticulous scrutiny, noting every detail. The way your hips swayed with each step, the subtle grace in your movements—it was an oddly compelling sight. For a brief moment, he observed how you pulled the band from your hair, letting it cascade freely down your back, each bounce framing your face with a casual elegance.

His lips curled into a satisfied smirk, the flicker of amusement in his eyes betraying his keen interest in the drama that had just unfolded

“Okay, I know we’re on opposite sides, but I seriously hoped she’d clock that loser in the face,” Blaise commented, his voice laced with admiration for your audacity.

Matteo chuckled, “I would have paid galleons to see it. She didn’t disappoint, though".

“Ripple should be grateful his team has the potential to pull off a play like that,” Blaise said, a hint of respect in his tone.

“He doesn’t have faith in his team, and that’s what’s screwing them up. Cromwell saw it immediately and had the guts to finally call him out.” Matteo sighed now walking towards where you dissappred to.

Blaise scoffed shaking his head "Fucking wallflowers the lot of them".

“Well, if we want to catch the aftermath, we better hurry up,” Matteo said with a smirk, his eyes glinting with a mix of anticipation and amusement.

Blaise grinned in return, and the two of them quickly set off, their footsteps echoing in the empty hallway as they sprinted to follow you.

________________

“Cromwell!” Ripple’s voice cut through the air, making you halt abruptly in the entrance of secluded hallway. “How dare you speak to me like that in front of the team?”

You took a deep breath, fury igniting in your eyes. “Oh, so now you’re going to act like you’re the victim? Maybe if you weren’t such a pathetic excuse for a captain, I wouldn’t have had to call you out.”

Ripple’s snarled “You think you’re so clever, don’t you? Who the hell do you think you are, coming in here and questioning my leadership? You’re brand new to this team and you’ve got the nerve to criticize me?”

“And you think you’re some kind of genius? You’ve turned what should be a winning strategy into a joke. How can you even call yourself a captain when you clearly don’t know how to play the game properly? This team doesn’t need you dragging us down!”

Ripple’s eyes narrowed, his nostrils flaring with barely contained rage. “I don’t need to take this from someone like you. You don’t even know what’s at stake here. Hufflepuff needs structure and discipline, not some self-righteous newbie telling me how to run things.”

You took a step forward, your voice dripping with contempt. “Oh, I see. The deal, right? Is that what this is all about? You’re so afraid of losing your precious deal that you’re willing to screw over your own team. Do you even realize how pathetic you look? Hufflepuff can stand on its own two feet and beat other teams in Quidditch without your shady deals!”

Ripple’s face went pale, his eyes widening with a mixture of shock and anger. “You have no idea what you’re talking about. You think you know everything, but you don’t.”

“That’s exactly the point,” you snapped. “I know enough to see that you’re a disgrace. And if you can’t come up with a legitimate reason for why you need this deal, I might just tell the whole team about it.”

"NO you wont".

"Be honest Ripple. All this for what? A couple of measly wins? And what does the Slytherins gets from this? No recruitments right. So now that your end of the deal is broken what are the new terms"?

You could tell by the way his whole face went pale that you hit the nail on the head.

Over the past week, no matter how much you analyzed the situation, the deal still didn’t add up. Slytherin’s interference had certainly pushed Hufflepuff to improve their stats, but despite the increased wins, the team hadn’t even made it to the finals. Slytherin’s demand for no new recruits seemed trivial compared to the drastic measures taken. It didn’t make sense. There had to be something more behind it—something beyond the surface.

Why would Slytherin go to such lengths if it was just about a few minor details like recruitment? The numbers didn’t lie: Hufflepuff’s performance had improved, yet the ultimate goal—reaching the finals—remained out of reach. The entire arrangement felt like a carefully orchestrated smokescreen.

The silence stretched, heavy with unspoken truths. Ripple’s eyes flitted between you and Matteo, who stood behind you at the end of the hall unbeknownst to you, watching with a smirk. It was clear Ripple was struggling to maintain his composure. The secret behind the deal was unraveling, and you had just pulled the thread.

“What are you hiding, Ripple?” you pressed, your voice rising with a mix of anger and determination. “Why all the secrecy? If it’s not about recruitment, then what’s the real deal"?

You didn't notice Ripple inching closer to you until he spoke "“You don’t know what you’re dealing with, Cromwell. You think you can just waltz in here and dismantle everything I’ve worked for"?

Now your eyes fell to his feet as they slowly approached you. "You know damn well I dont have to answer to you".

Your pulse quickened as you realized Ripple’s was closing in, his eyes locked on you with a mixture of fury and desperation.

"Ripple—"

Your breath hitched as he lunged towards you. Panic surged through your veins as you spun on your heels and sprinted away, your heart pounding in your chest. You barely got three steps before you collided with a hard, unyielding chest. Strong arms wrapped around your waist, lifting you effortlessly off the ground.

You yelped and looked up, meeting Matteo’s cool gaze. His grin widened, a dark glint in his eyes. “Beauty and Brains. Nice work, Cromwell.”

“Let me go!” you shouted, struggling against his unbreakable hold. It felt like pushing against a stone wall.

Matteo glanced at Blaise, who approached with a mocking smile. Ripple, now a picture of sheer panic, was sweating profusely.

Blaise slung an arm around Ripple’s shoulders, giving him a sympathetic pat. “Well, looks like the cat’s out of the bag now, mate. So, what’s the next move?”

Ripple stammered, his composure shattered. “I—I can have—”

“Shhh.” Blaise cut him off, a smirk curling his lips. “I was asking Riddle. You clearly can’t think for shit.”

Matteo shrugged nonchalantly, holding you tightly against him. “She won’t quit.”

Ripple’s gaze darted between you and Blaise, desperation in his eyes. “But what if she tells everyone—”

Blaise’s tone turned cold, his eyes glinting with malice. “You leave that to us. Just make sure you keep your end of the deal.” He grabbed Ripple by the back of his collar, yanking him toward the hallway. “Why don’t we go and meet our other friends, shall we?”

You managed to wrench free from Matteo's iron grip around your waist, but before you could make any headway, his hands snapped out with practiced ease, catching your wrist and pulling you back against him.

“No, you don’t,” Matteo said smoothly, his voice a mix of amusement and authority. You struggled, but his grip was unyielding, his arm like a steel vice around your midsection.

"Alright mate. I trust you can handle this" Blaise grins as he drags Ripple away.

Somehow you were still fighting for your life pushing and pulling before watching Blaise disapper

Finally, Matteo let go, and you stumbled back a few steps, panting. "You brute."

He let out a soft, amused snort watching you rub your wrists "Only when I need to be"

"Merlin, Riddle, what is going on?! Whatever it is, don’t wrap me up in it!"

Matteo nodded. "Sure. Just don’t tell the rest of the Hufflepuff team and we’re good."

You gulped and nodded back. "Fine."

You stared at each other before he broke out in a grin, showing his pearly whites. "If only it were that easy, huh?"

"It can be." You insisted

He raised a brow. "Oh, so I just trust you then?"

You licked your lips, attempting your best sincere face. "Yes."

He stared at you for a long, uncomfortable moment, his gaze boring into yours, making you feel exposed and vulnerable. Finally, he inhaled deeply and said, "Alright. I will give my unconditional trust and let you walk away unscathed, under one condition."

You knew you weren’t going to like what he had to say but nodded reluctantly. "Alright."

He stepped closer, his eyes never leaving yours. "Kiss me."

Your eyes widened in shock. "What?"

"Give me an unforgettable kiss. If I like it, then I will let you go."

"Riddle—"

"What? Don’t tell me you’ve never kissed anyone before, Cromwell."

The heat of embarrassment crept up your neck because he was right. You never had. And by the looks of his widening grin he knew.

"Alright, I am not having this. Screw you." You turned on your heel and walked away, almost believing you could escape when his voice stopped you cold.

"I wouldn’t try that. You and I both know you’ll never make it."

You paused, knowing he was right. You were a good runner, but he was faster, and the risk was too high.

"I can already hear you thinking, Princess. I dare you to try; it might make my day a whole lot more fun."

"Fuck" You murmured under your breathe. How did you get into this situation?

Your heart raced as you weighed your options. The tension between you crackled in the air. You turned to look at Matteo, his confident stance and mocking grin igniting a rebellious spark within you.

"Fine," you said, your voice steady despite the chaos in your mind. "If that's what it takes to get out of this mess, then so be it."

Matteo's grin widened, but there was a hint of surprise in his eyes. You took a step forward, closing the distance between you, your pulse pounding in your ears.

Your fists clenched at your sides as your eyes zeroed in on his lips.

"Don't look so nervous, newbie."

You could hear the tease in his tone, a callback to the first time he had met you.

Suddenly, all hesitation flew out the window. With a surge of defiance and desperation, you grabbed Matteo by the collar and crashed your lips onto his.

Matteo responded instantly, his hands gripping your waist, pulling you impossibly close.

The warmth of his lips seeped onto yours, igniting a fire you didn't know was there. You tried to deepen the kiss, but your inexperience showed. Sensing your uncertainty, Matteo took control. He slightly pulled back, then used one hand to tilt your chin, and with a confident push, his tongue invaded your mouth.

You groaned quietly, a mix of frustration and unexpected pleasure, as Matteo dominated the kiss. His tongue explored every inch of your mouth with a hunger that left you breathless. You attempted to match his intensity, but he was relentless, his 'condition' forgotten in the heat of the moment.

Your mind was a blur, overwhelmed by the intensity of the kiss and the power he exerted over you. His grip tightened, and the kiss deepened, becoming more heated and urgent. The taste of him, the feel of his tongue against yours, was intoxicating. It was as if he was consuming you, leaving no room for thought or resistance.

Matteo's other hand roamed up your back, pressing you even closer. The sensation was electrifying, sending shivers down your spine. You could feel his heartbeat, strong and steady, contrasting with the frantic pounding of your own.

The kiss seemed to last forever, when Matteo finally pulled back, both of you were panting, faces inches apart. His eyes burned with a mix of triumph and something else you couldn't quite place.

"Not bad," he murmured, his voice husky. "But we're not done yet."

Before you could catch your breath, Matteo's hand moved to your neck, fingers brushing against the chain of your necklace. Your eyes widened in realization, but it was too late. He tugged sharply, the delicate chain snapping easily.

"Matteo, no—" you started, but he held up the pendant, the small, intricate design catching the light.

"This?" He dangled it teasingly. "This is my insurance."

"Give it back!" you shouted, lunging for it, but he held it out of reach, a smug grin on his face.

"Not so fast, Cromwell. You play by my rules now." His grin widened, eyes glinting with amusement. "Remember, one word to anyone, and this stays with me."

The reality of the situation sank in, the weight of the heirloom’s absence heavy on your chest. You were trapped, manipulated into a corner by someone who knew exactly how to play the game.

Matteo leaned in close, his voice a whisper. "Now, be a good girl and keep quiet. We wouldn’t want your precious necklace to get lost, would we?"

The tension was unbearable, every nerve in your body screaming at the injustice, the humiliation. As he finally let you go, you stumbled back, breathless and shaken.

"You’re going to regret this," you said, voice trembling with rage.

"I dont think I will" Matteo replied, his smile never wavering. "If you need some more practice, " Matteo gestured to his lips "You know where to find me" He winked.

With that, he turned and walked away, leaving you standing in the hallway, the stolen necklace a bitter reminder of the power he now held over you.

[robbersofmyheart]

A coffee shop meeting…

Summary: Fate steps in when a teacher in her not-even-quarter-life crisis meets Matty Healy.

A/N: There's a very strong possibility that I'll never post any other writing on here again, but I hope this brings a smile to someone else's face. This was a daydream born of my love both for the 1975 (Matty in particular tbh) and for the found family trope. Hope you enjoy it!

“You don’t happen to have a light, do you?”

“No, I don’t. Maybe it’s a sign you shouldn’t smoke it.”

“I’ve done a lot worse, believe me.”

“Oh, I know. Doesn’t make that nicotine any better for you though.”

Eleanor looked across at her companion, eyebrows raised in challenge, waiting to see if he had a comeback. The café, which had been heaving when she arrived a couple of hours ago, now had only two customers remaining. In their typical British fashion, they hadn’t spoken until now, despite being alone at their adjacent tables, so Eleanor was surprised to hear him finally breaking the ice over the rattling of coffee cups being tidied away. She watched as he put the cigarette back into the packet, a smirk overtaking his features.

“So you do recognise me then.”

Crap. Of course that’s what he took from that. Matty Healy - 1, Eleanor - 0.

“Yes, I recognised you, Matty,” Eleanor replied with a sigh. She couldn’t believe she’d lost that easily.

“Why didn’t you say anything? You were the only one in here that could see my face.”

“I was working,” she paused. “Or at least trying to. I don’t usually focus well in busy places, too many more interesting things to study.”

“Why are you here then?”

“My cousin lives in Manchester and I’d come to visit him. We managed to have half a day before he got called in for a last-minute shift at work. I missed my train home by literally seconds, then I saw that the next one was cancelled, so I thought I’d get some planning done while I wait for the one after to arrive.”

Matty was listening to her intently now, his chin resting on his hand. Eleanor wondered what he was doing here. Since he arrived, he’d alternated between drinking cups of coffee, scribbling frantically in his Moleskine, and watching the comings and goings of customers out of the corner of his eye. Before she could ask him, however, he dived in with yet another question for her

“And what sort of planning would that be?”

“Factorising quadratics with Year 9, area of a trapezium with Year 7, and recurring decimals revision with Year 11.”

Matty exhaled loudly, leaning back in his chair, the glint in his eye telling her that he was impressed. “You’re a maths teacher then.”

“Bingo.”

“That must be a tough gig.”

“Just a bit.”

“You seem quite young to be a teacher.” It was a statement, but the furrow in his brows betrayed his confusion.

“I’m 22, so I guess I am.”

“Do you enjoy it?”

Eleanor hesitated, considering what her reply would be, and Matty waited patiently, almost watching the cogs turning in her brain. “I do, for the most part. I work with an amazing team of people, and I love seeing the difference I make to those kids’ lives. Not everyone has that purpose, so I’m lucky really.”

Matty narrowed his eyes at her, knowing that she wasn’t telling the full story. And that was how Eleanor found herself pouring her heart out to the curly haired singer, the troubles that she had bottled up inside her for months finally breaking free, whether she liked it or not.

She told him about how she lived in a permanent state of exhaustion, tired from the never-ending to do lists and the unbearable repetitiveness of her daily life. She told him about the part of her that regretted throwing herself into such a big career at such a young age, and how she felt that she missed her chance to be young and wild and carefree because she’d always been so focused on her work. She told him about how she’d thought about leaving her current life behind and starting again so many times, but had ultimately been too scared of failing and letting people down when they’d given up so much to help her get to where she was now.

To his surprise, Matty didn’t feel like interrupting her once during her monologue. He simply wanted to let her talk, to let her share her thoughts with him. It was like he could actually see some of the weight lifting off the girl’s shoulders as she unburdened herself of her worries, and it almost made him smile to think that she felt comfortable enough to tell him when he somehow knew that she had never told anyone else. So he just listened, letting her ramble on until she ran out of things to say.

When that time finally came, Eleanor let out a big exhale and looked Matty in the eye as he responded with one word: “Wow.”

Eleanor felt her face start to burn and she buried it into her hands. “Oh my God, I’m so sorry. This is probably the last way you wanted to spend your afternoon, being on the receiving end of my word vomit.”

“You know what, it actually made a refreshing change. Didn’t expect to get recruited as a therapist today.” Matty watched her shoulders start to shake under her blanket of blonde waves, and was shocked at the worry he felt that she might be crying. But when she looked up she was giggling, despite the faint sheen of tears in her eyes.

“Oh, so you’re my therapist now?”

“You mean you didn’t purposefully choose me? I’m wounded.” That made her laugh properly this time, and Matty found himself unable to hold a soft smile back any longer before his expression turned more serious. “Look, I’m not going to pretend like I know how to solve your problems, and I’m not even sure if you want me to, but can I say one thing?” She nodded. “I think that if the people that you’re worried about letting down really love you, they’ll be more upset if you carry on doing something that’s making you miserable for their sakes than if you give it up.”

Eleanor mulled over the singer’s words and whilst she knew deep down that they were true, it didn’t change the fact that she was absolutely terrified at the idea of giving up teaching. Below the supportive façades, she knew her parents would always berate her for leaving such a stable, well-paid career, and her pride would never let her return to work at her current school with people that she adores if this mysterious plan B failed. She relayed all of this to Matty.

“Well who gives a flying fuck what anyone else thinks anyway! What’s the point in life if you don’t do something you love?”

“But teaching is the only thing I’ve ever even contemplated doing, I’ve got absolutely no idea what else I’d do.”

“Listen, you’re young, intelligent, beautiful, and you’ve literally got the whole world out there with so many possibilities - it doesn’t matter if you don’t get it right first time.”

“Careful, Healy, I might start thinking you like me,”

Now, if you asked Matty Healy of The 1975 why his immediate response was to do a stereotypically girlish impression of that comment before flipping off the young woman sat in front of him, he wouldn’t be able to tell you. Nor could he explain why, after only an hour of talking to her, he felt such an incredible fondness for her, an almost brotherly affection, which prompted him to tell her how amazing she seemed to be. But he could describe how his heart soared as she laughed at him, and then sunk as she realised the time and started hurriedly packing her stuff into her bag.

“Shit, shit, shit. Do you think I can make the train in 5 minutes? I can’t miss this one as well. This is all your fault you know!”

“Hang on, how is it my fault? You’re the one who started emptying your brains onto the table.”

“And you were the one who made the mistake of listening.” Eleanor swung her bag onto her shoulder, and pressed a quick kiss to his cheek. “Thank you.”

Then she was running out of the coffee shop, a blur of blonde hair and floral perfume.

It was only then that Matty realised he didn’t even know her name.

***

1 year later…

“Lovely to meet you, take care.”

As soon as the interviewee had left the room, the smiles on four of the five faces dropped and they let out a sigh.

“Guys, if you want to actually do this, we do need to hire someone.”

Matty tugged at his hair in frustration. “It’s not that we’re not on board with it, Jamie, it’s just got to be with the right person. I mean, it’s letting someone totally unknown to us into an entire chapter of our lives, not just our careers.”

It was just over a month ago that The 1975 had told Jamie Oborne that they were ready to start working on their next album. In the same meeting, Jamie had proposed an idea that he had been mulling over for a while. The response to ‘A Theatrical Performance of an Intimate Moment’ had been better than anyone had anticipated, and the fans always loved seeing behind the scenes footage. So, Jamie had suggested filming the entire journey of their next album, from concept to creation to tour, and releasing it as a mini-series. Of course, the band could get the footage themselves, but whether they would actually remember to do it was a different story.

That was how they found themselves in a boiling hot room in the London office of Dirty Hit, having collectively decided against all 15 people they had interviewed for the role of documentarian.

“I mean, they all just seem so serious,” Matty continued.

“Boring, you mean,” George muttered.

“This thing does have to look good, though, for it to work, and these were the most qualified of all the candidates,” Jamie countered.

“We don’t fucking care about qualified!”

“I think what Matty’s trying to say, mate,” Ross calmly cut in, “Is that we were thinking of something more low key. More of a collection of home movies than something carefully filmed and edited.”

“Yeah, we don’t know how long this thing is going to go on for, way over a year at least, and we don’t want to feel like we’re putting on a show the whole time. It’s got to be authentic. It’s gonna be fucking weird at the start but after a while we just want it to be like a mate is casually filming what we’re doing.”

Jamie had to admit that George closed their argument well, and he was sold on it. He just wished that they had told him sooner.

“Okay, okay, I get it and I’m happy for us to go ahead with that. There’s one more person for us to speak to today, who was kind of my wildcard, so if she’s more what you’re looking for then we can revisit some of the other applications tomorrow.” With that, Jamie left the room to get the last candidate.

“A wildcard? What is this, mid-2000s X Factor?” Matty huffed, to the amusement of the others.

But any annoyance that Matty felt was washed away in an instant when he saw who his manager was holding the door open for.

“What the fuck are you doing here?” Matty’s words might have sounded rude, but it was the smile spreading across his face that shocked everyone the most.

“I’m here in an attempt to annoy you for longer this time,” Eleanor smirked.

“Well, you’re failing miserably at this point. How are you?”

“I’m good. Really good, actually.” A genuine smile crossed her face this time. “Didn’t think you’d remember me to be honest.”

“I often wondered what you decided to do with your life in the end,” Matty shrugged. “It frustrated me knowing everything and then nothing at all. So I guess you have already succeeded in your goal to annoy me.”

Before you had chance to reply, another voice broke through to join the conversation. “Sorry to interrupt this lovely chat, but would someone kindly explain what the hell is going on here?” It was George, and he, like everyone else in the room, was stumped by Matty’s sudden personality transplant.

Now very aware of all of the eyes on her, she looked to Matty for help, who simply sat back in his chair before saying “Well, I think you’re sat in the better seat for a storytime, don’t you? Anyway, I don’t even know your name.”

So Eleanor told the room about how she had met their frontman, briefly mentioning the life crisis that she’d been having at the time, whilst Matty impatiently waited to hear what happened after she left the coffee shop. She told them how she’d stayed in teaching until the end of that school year, before handing in her notice. Her boss had been sad to see her go, but told her that if she ever decided that she wanted to come back then he’d always find a job for her. Eleanor’s family, however, reacted quite differently; she ended up having a massive row with her parents about it and her relationship with them still hadn’t quite mended fully. Ever since her move to London, she had been taking whatever bar jobs she could find and spent her days applying to any jobs that took her fancy.

Matty couldn’t help the pride that was coursing through him for the young woman sat across from him. She had taken all of those ‘What ifs’ that she’d told him about, thrown them in the fire and walked away, when he knew that all of her instincts would have been telling her to do the opposite. He looked around at the others, and was both amused and pleased to find that they all seemed to be as entranced by Eleanor as he had been at their first meeting. In Matty’s eyes, she was the perfect fit, and he could tell that she was quickly winning the others over as well.

Surprisingly, it was Adam who spoke up first. “So, you’re saying that you’re totally unqualified for this job?”

“Never done anything like it before in my life. But it sounded interesting and I’m always up for learning new stuff.”

“Never been behind a camera? Never had anything to do with the music industry?” Ross asked, slightly taken aback by her honesty.

“Not the music industry, but I used to study music at school and I still play the piano from time to time.”

“And I take it you’re on board for annoying Matty as much as humanly possible?” It was George this time.

“Oh 100%.”

Matty rolled his eyes, but the smile remained on his face. She’d done it. Now, there was only one person left to convince. Matty quickly joined the others in looking at Jamie the way they used to look at their parents when the ice cream van pulled up on their road.

Eleanor watched on nervously as some sort of telepathic conversation seemed to transpire between the band and their manager.

Eventually, the silence broke and a new chapter began.

[dianneking]

It’s not too late if we’re alive (Brienne/Reader)

A/N: It’s Day Two of May Trope Mayhem by @duckprintspress​ and I’ve never felt so inspired to write! Today’s prompt is War Setting so you get a WWII AU Brienne x Reader fic, because why not! (thanks to @weemssapphic​ for our historical AU talk, that made me buckle down and write). As always, link to AO3 in title below.

Disclaimer: I didn’t have the time to properly research this, so there might be historical inaccuracies on technical stuff like how war hospitals were organized etc. Disclaimer # 2: I seem physically unable to keep my fics under 1000w, blame the angst, not me.

Tags: War, WWII, Hospitals, Wounds  (not graphic), Talk of Death, Talk of Bombing, Smoking, Second-person Narrator, Angst, Breakups, Angst with a Happy Ending, No use of Y/N.

Fandom: Game of Thrones Pairing: Brienne of Tarth/Reader Wordcount: 1258w

It’s not too late if we’re alive

Any day that passed, you knew it could happen. You were at war after all. Day in and day out the battles raged, and humans fought against other humans, machines against other machines, metal ringing against metal, their screams loud in the smoke-filled air. 

They fell in troves. Some made it to you, others weren’t so lucky. And you knew that Brienne was there in the trenches, amongst her soldiers, leading them, the first woman to ever serve in the British Army, the first one to rise to the rank of officer.

Every time you woke up from your fitful slumber, every time a wounded soldier was brought in for treatment, you prayed not to recognize her on the stretcher, not to see her cornsilk hair matted with blood underneath the helmet. One day your prayers went unanswered.

“Chief Nurse! Hurry! It’s the lieutenant-general!”

After all this time, her figure was still so achingly familiar to you as the litter bearer brought her in, her long limbs limp on the stretcher, soot and blood marring the uniform she was so proud of.

Up until now you had managed to avoid her, only catching glimpses of her when she came to visit the wounded, but now here she was, bare inches away from you. She was still beautiful, even with the inevitable traces of time and war. It took all of your strength not to reach out and brush your fingers against the soft skin of her jaw. You shouldn’t.

After all, the last words you had exchanged had not been the friendly sort.

*

“Will you at least promise me you’ll come back?” you had asked. She had already donned her uniform, and the coarse wool scratched your palm as you put your hand on her elbow.

“You know I cannot promise you that.”

“But I love you.”

Her face had hardened, as it always did when you told her how you felt. You had told yourself that she was simply unused to being loved. But a dark voice within you was starting to ask whether it was because she was ashamed of you, or frustrated with your clinginess. Whatever the reason, she never said those words back.

“You shouldn’t say those things so lightly.”

“Just because you refuse to accept my feelings for you doesn’t mean that they are not real.”

“You are young, but you were never naïve. This was never something that could last.”

You had been young at the time, true. You had never experienced heartbreak before. Even the simple act of breathing sent searing pain through your chest. Your eyes had filled with tears, and your mouth with rage.

“Is that all it was to you? Just something to keep you entertained between wars?”

She had not dared to answer you. To this day, you still wondered why. Was it because it had been more for her as well and she didn’t want to lie to your face, or was it because she didn’t want to admit that she, Captain Brienne of Tarth, paradigm of righteousness, had used you for your affection just for as long as she had needed a warm body?

You had been young at the time, and first love is never easily forgotten. Even if unrequited.  

*

“Is God so unmerciful then?” The sudden sound of her voice in the silence of the officers tent almost made you drop the bandages you were carrying. You turned to her, wondering if she was growing delirious due to the high fevers she was running. But her eyes, wide and feverish though they were, were trained on you, with razor-sharp focus. “Have I not atoned for my past mistakes with my deeds? Why must He torture me with cruel visions?”

Oh.

She thought you were a fever dream, one sent to torture her. You pretended it didn’t hurt. It shouldn’t have, not as much as it did. Not even if she had been your first love.

Your only love, corrected a voice inside of you that sounded a lot like your younger self.

“Lieutenant-general, I am not a vision. I am merely the chief nurse. You should try to rest. You have been injured on the battlefield.”

“Is…is it truly you?”

“It is. But I am only here to treat your wounds, not to dig up the past.”

“How are you alive?”

“How is anyone alive these days? Luck, probably.”

“I thought you died in the Coventry bombing.”

“I’m sorry?”

“I sent you letters, and you never answered. I came over last year, but nobody could tell me anything about you. Our house was nothing but a pile of rubble. I thought…”

“Oh, is it our house now? I don’t recall you showing any particular attachment to it when you left.” She was surprised at your vitriol, you could see it in the way her deep blue eyes widened, and in the uncharacteristically hesitation in her answer.

“Darling, I-“

You suddenly felt ashamed of how easily her mere presence could drag out all of your pain, making you feel like that day on your doorstep, watching her walk away, her military boots crushing your heart with each step.

“There are no darlings here. It’s Chief Nurse if you need to address me. But right now, I don’t have time for idle chatter.”

You turned away from her, leaving her behind as she did to you so much time ago.

*

She found you some days later, as you were trying to enjoy the luxury of a short smoke break hidden behind the hospital barracks. She was still limping, but her skin had lost most of its sickly paleness, and she looked even more like the Brienne you used to know. The Brienne you used to love.

“How did you end up becoming a nurse?”

“I was told to do something useful with my life since I refused to marry. I did.”

“You…refused to marry?”

“Lieutenant-general, I hardly think…”

“Brienne. It’s Brienne to you. It’s always been.” You committed the mistake of looking up into her eyes, and instantly felt the irresistible pull they had on you. As if she had never left. You averted your gaze angrily and took a deep drag from the cigarette in your hands, trying to center yourself once again.

“What is your purpose here, Brienne?”

“I thought I had lost you, and I thought I would never be able to tell you. Seeing you here, alive, accomplished, breathtakingly beautiful, it…it felt like a second chance I never deserved to have.”

“Tell me what?”

“Not a day goes by that I don’t regret walking away from you. I’m sorry.”

The unexpectedness of the apology took you by surprise and you turned to her, only to find her much closer than you expected. The words you were thinking of saying died in your throat as you drowned in the maelstrom of feelings within her eyes. She hesitatingly reached a hand over to cup your cheek, as if afraid you’ll suddenly disappear, and her voice was low and broken with a heartache you instantly recognized. It was twin to your own.

 “I love you. I always have. I’m sorry I’m only telling you now. I know it’s too late.”

Her eyes swam with tears, and her face was suddenly getting closer and closer. You reached with a hand behind her neck and pulled her even closer, whispering against her lips, as if it was a secret meant only for her and her alone.

“It’s not too late if we’re alive.”

Liked it? You can find all of my fics on my fanfiction masterlist!

[pretty-toastie]

Κασσάνδρα

Things that are tangled: The loop of red string I keep in my pocket, rub absently between my fingers, twist into tiny shapes. The boughs and vines and briars of Central Park. The screams of crows perched high in hemlocks, in birches, in oaks and aspens and yews, raspy and joyful and defiant. The thatched roof of a home on the rocky shore of Ireland and the carpeted floor of an arcade strewn with neon geometry, both rough on my hands in the same way. The prophecies that hang in the air, the knowledge that suffuses the atmosphere and drips blackened knots over the heads of humanity. Time.

A pair of young girls—was I ever that young?—stumbled across me once, in the woods of northern France. Their gaze fell on me, wrapped in a battered bomber jacket, the patches torn away long ago or long after, and I exhaled a cloud of cigarette smoke and stared back at them. They stood frozen, side by side, their eyes wide. I watched one girl shift closer to the other, heard the crunch of twigs and dead leaves under her foot. She whispered something in French, grabbed the other’s hand, her fingers trembling slightly.

Something about these girls, scared, standing in front of an entity they could not comprehend reminded me of myself; I wanted desperately to put them at ease. Your children are beautiful, I told them. You raised them so well. And they were, and they did—I could see them, all bright smiles and bubbling laugher and round cheeks, all dirty hands and strong arms and herbs tucked into leather pouches, all grey hair and wrinkled skin and wisdom.

The girls couldn’t see. Of course they couldn’t.

It’s so easy to forget what you should and shouldn’t know yet when you already know everything. The years blend together, and I forget where I am, when I am. It makes me feel insane.

A young man—a boy—found me once in an alley in Seludong. He was out of breath, nervous. He spoke in rapid Tagalog. They say you’re a witch, he said. Can you change me? Can you fix my body? It’s not right. It doesn’t fit me. It broke my heart to have to tell him no, tell him that all I can do is see, that the only way I can change anything is to warn people. I could not bring myself to tell him that no one will ever heed my warnings.

Phoebus Apollo’s voice echoes in my skull, as hot and violent as the sun. It tastes like ozone, like blood on my tongue. Just the memory hurts. He knew that I just wanted to help. All I ever wanted was to help. I saw the people around me suffering and I just wanted to help them and he offered me the means—gave me the means. But then he asked for something in return, a price I wasn’t willing to pay, and I said no—but what does ‘no’ mean, to a god? I turned him down, and he, in turn, unable to revoke his gift,  made sure that I would never be able to help anyone.

Things that are tangled: The pieces of soft, soft cloth I keep in my pocket, rub absently between my fingers, worried and worn and frayed. The wrought iron fence gates of a manor in northern Vermont. The calls of screech owls and foxes, hunting at night, earsplitting, beautiful. The smell of woodsmoke, the taste of basil and rosemary and lemongrass and mint. My feelings. How can I love someone when I know that she would do anything for me, that for me to love her would destroy her? How can I love someone when I can see her wife’s face in my mind, always, always, and it isn’t mine?

But then, how can I not?  She puts basil and rosemary and lemongrass and mint in the glasses of water she makes me. She takes me to an arcade, laughs when I need to stop to run my fingers over the carpet of neon geometry but waits all the same. She listens when I tell stories about places I’ve been and things I’ve seen and people I’ve met. She is patient when I forget. She walks with me through Central Park, smiles excitedly at me when the foxes and the crows and the screech owls scream because she knows I love the sounds.

Her face in the moonlight is the most beautiful thing I’ve ever seen, and I have seen everything. She never asks me about her future.

And then her future arrives. It always had happened, always would happen. I can only bear to live through that time once. I’m not there. I am lost in the tangled weave of time and space and future and past, hunched over in the rain on the edge of a street in the middle of somewhere, terrified by the snarled knot of certainty that hangs in front of the faces of everyone who passes me. I am broken, I am lost. I know everything. I cannot remember my name. I watch the world end against the inside of my eyelids, again and again and again, and I cannot tell where I am, when I am. I do not know how to get back to her.

I left her, and I was gone for so long, and she fell in love. Really, truly, deeply. She and her wife were so happy, are so happy, will be so happy, and I am so happy for her. I am. I breathe in, breathe out. I have always known. I could see our ending from the moment I met her. I still didn’t expect it to hurt so much.

Things that are tangled: the lines of fate that bind people together, tear them apart. The pits of peaches, scarred over with twisting grooves. The ever-branching future and the ever-growing past. The sound of raindrops on asphalt. Flowers blooming before the last frost. The taste of loss, acid in my mouth. I feel insane. I know that I am not. I knew what would happen. No one ever heeds my warnings.

I blow a cloud of smoke and fog into the damp night air, watch as it mingles with the low grey clouds lit from above by the pale moon. I pull my worn jacket closer around me.

Time will keep moving forward. It always has. I will bear witness to it all.

[selinaaa175]

Reunited in Alabasta (OC x Portgas D. Ace)

This is a little short story from my one piece OC's cannon lore with Ace told from my OC's POV . I know some people don't like OC content as much so I'll probably upload a different version where I replace the names with y/n. Also the first time posting one of my short story fanfics so I apologize for grammar or spelling mistakes.

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Prologue

Ace and I have been traversing islands for quite some time now tracking down a certain someone with what little bits of information we can find. We decide to make a pitstop in Alabasta and restock on supplies. While walking through the crowded outdoor shops of Alabasta I end up losing Ace to the flow of the crowd. I wander around retracing steps.

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Where could this idiot be? I turned around to buy some souvenirs for the road and he just disappeared. It shouldn’t even be hard to spot a half naked, bumbling, freckled man who wears a bright orange hat. I ran around the markets of the town in search of him but the area is just too much land to cover. I start to get hungry myself and look for a bite to eat. I find the closest restaurant to me and start making my way up. On the walk there I see long stretchy arms fling past me. Then I hear the scream of a young boy coming closer with each second. FOOD! He screams as he flies by into the restaurant doors. It was only a glimpse but I saw his straw hat fly by on his head.

 I rushed into the restaurant to find multiple holes in the walls of multiple buildings. And low and behold Luffy stands at the counter stuffing his face. I smirk at the sudden run in with my childhood friend. “Still the same as ever huh?” I called out. Then I see Ace appear from the ruble angry yet pleasantly surprised at the sight of his kid brother. I start walking towards them but Ace is face planted into the ground below by a navy vice admiral. I stand ready for a fight with my hands on my rapier. With a closer look I recognize that it’s vice admiral Smoker. The two exchange words and suddenly they’re running out the door. Ace follows in quick pursuit and grabs my hand in the process.

Luffy evades the vice admiral's attacks of smoke and me and Ace follow closely behind. A crowd of marines begin to grow within the chase causing an uproar in the city. Me and Ace get lost in the crowd. I look towards Ace, his hand still interlocked with mine. “Always having to look after your kid brother huh?” I laugh. He smiles, “Like always” he says. We continue on and turn the corner to see the strawhat pirates running from Smoker and his pack of marines. Without question I grab Ace’s wrist and sprout wings to fly us up in front of them. We stand in defense against them. “Ace!” Luffy beams with excitement. I look back and throw em a cheeky smile. Ace quickly turns to flames ready to attack and I draw my rapier.

 “You guys head back to your ship we’ll handle this” Ace states with a grin.  Ace throws the first punch which is combated with a fist of smoke. The smoke and flames grow and grow until it has taken up the sky and explodes with a blast of both elements. I take on the group of marines and swordswomen. Jumping, dodging, changing size while blocking all I do while launching attacks of my own. When the smoke and flames cover me from the bunch I run out to the other side where I find Ace waiting for me. 

We run together, like always, on the roofs of houses and find Luffy in the alley by himself carrying a barrel. Ace jumps down first to greet him and I follow. “What a waste, I gave you time to run away and you still get lost.” Ace jokingly complains as he jumps. “Oh Ace! And….” He stops with an unsure voice. He looks at me confused. It’s been about 9 years since I’ve seen Luffy but he looks about the same as ever, But me? You could not say the same about me. 6 harsh years in the navy really changes people but since then I’ve been living my best life with Ace as a pirate. “Yep, same little girl who ran around the village with you.” I said with a smile. It’s almost as if a star flies by in his eyes when I confirm his suspicions. He extends his rubbery arms around my body in a heartbeat and pulls me in. With cheerful laughter he screams, “Sonya! I-I didn’t know If I’d see you again!” His voice is a mixture of relief, excitement, and uneasiness. Of course it’s to be expected, since I was dragged away assuring them I wouldn’t bother them anymore. I openly accept his embrace and wrap my hands around his shoulders. Ace comes up behind us placing a hand on Luffy's head he chuckles, “Hey, don’t forget about me.” Me and Luffy's arms detangle and the pair of brothers continue on in the usual antics. They share a drink of water and arm wrestle on a barrel while Luffy goes on about his crew. “And we have a cook too! He makes really good food!” Luffy passionately boasts about his crew. They must be as great as he says to go along with him this long. The conversation shifts to life back in Windmill village where we spent our early childhood together. “Remember when you snuck into old man’s watermelon patch and ate them all !” Luffy states as they struggle in a match of arm strength. “What, that was you!” 

“And then the old man got mad at you so you were shooting out the seeds like a gatling gun!”

“That was you too! I was on the side watching!”

I watch the duo bicker lightheartedly like true siblings and giggle at them and the memories of before. The barrel breaks under pressure under them and the match between strength was never really settled. “You never change, Luffy.” Ace grins. 

~~~They fight Baroque works millions, kinda boring so I skipped until I find how to write it better~~~

Ace and I flow towards the straw hats in the Strider, a ship built by Ace and Deuce and powered by Ace’s flames. I hold onto Ace with my arms around his neck resting on his broad shoulders. I let the wind blow through my wings allowing me to glide through air while floating just above the Strider. We reach their ship and stop right next to them. “But I bet now I could kick his butt!” Luffy’s voice rings out from above. I let go of Ace and he jumps up to greet his brother by pushing him down as he lands. I follow up with a pat on the head while I hover above him. “Who’s kicking whose butt now!?” Ace yells as he plants his landing. Luffy’s crew stares at us with curiosity. “Oh Ace and Sonya! This is my crew I was telling you about!”

“Oh, well nice to meet you and thanks for taking care of my kid brother. I know he’s a handful.” Ace says.

“Oh no, not at all.” They say in unison while bowing.

“Come on be honest, this is Luffy we’re talking about, isn't he a bit too much to handle at times?”

“I definitely know how spontaneous He could be at times.” I remark

“Not at all.” again in unison.

“Your good people.” Ace says with a quirk of a grin.

“Well settle down and relax, I’m sure you guys have lots of catching up to do. I’ll make tea, and extra special for the lovely lady here.” Sanji says with a smile directed towards me.

“Oh no need too.” This time me and Ace say in unison with Ace feeling slightly provoked by the comment on me, turning down his offer. Luffy’s crew comments on how polite Ace was and how the two could never be related. Some of them even comment on me and how kind I was. As we talk, ships begin to surround us from afar. Upon closer look I can see the name Baroque Works plastered on each ship. “Ah, Ace, I think we should handle this.” I say beside him eyeing the ships. Ace lets out an umph of agreement and we’re off in the Strider once more. 

We close in and Ace pushes off the Strider pushing it under water below the ships. I let go of Ace and fly towards one half of the ships while Ace handles the other. I slice through the ships with ease as I fly through cutting them up into bits. I throw myself up into the air to free fall as I watch my work unfold. When the ships start to fall I turn to my left to see the ships which Ace obliterated with his flames. I watch as his body reflects the flames in front of him. It defines his muscles so nicely it makes me feel so grateful that he’s my husband. I zip right back to the Strider and land next to him. I place my hands gently on his face and give him a peck on his cheek. The air around us turns slightly hotter and pink dusts his cheeks. “What was that for?” He says with a sly  grin. He grabs my hand and pushes me closer to him and begins the path back to the strawhats. 

When we get back the whole crew is in awe at how easily we managed back there. “Ya know, I do love myself a pretty and strong woman like you.” Sanji says in a flirtatious tone. I furrow my brows at the sudden display of flirtiness. I smile and open my mouth to talk,”I appreciate-” 

“Sorry, she’s already taken,” Ace says in an annoyed tone and smiles competitively at him. Ace interlocks hands with me and pulls me in close by the waist. The quick display of PDA makes me blush slightly and the fact that Ace said that like I’m his makes me blush even more. “By me, of course.” He states with a bright smile and holds up our hands revealing our tattoos and rings. Each other’s ring finger is marked with the other’s initial incase we were ever to lose our rings or not be able to wear them.

 Sanji is taken aback by this and turns red with embarrassment. Everyone else in the crew gasps or screams in shock. A collective EHHH?! Is heard throughout the boat when they see our hands. Immediately Sanji begins to apologize for hitting on a married woman. But the person most surprised is Luffy. His voice is the loudest between the group's collective gasps. “Really!?” Luffy screams out. I lightly laugh and reply, “Yep! Guess I'm your sister-in-law now!” Ace snickers from behind me and pushes his body against the back of mine slipping his arms under my arms and around my waist. He rests his head on my shoulder and says, “Tied the knot on this pretty little thing a couple months ago, so I guess you could say we’re newly weds?” Luffy, not believing that his older brother and childhood friend got married without him having the slightest bit of knowledge, is stuck in shock. I smile and walk towards Luffy while guiding Ace to follow. I sit down next to him and say, “We sure do have a lot to catch up on huh? And Sanji, I will take you up on that offer, some tea would be lovely.” Ace sits down next to me and heartily laughs as he pokes fun at Luffy and we continue with our catching up as the day goes on.

[officialleehadan]

Smoke-glass Lamp

Stone Kisses

+++

“How are you feeling?”

The library had private rooms for students who wanted to study without being bothered, and for groups who didn’t ant to bother others with their discussions.

Alivir’s favorite was all the way in the back, had frosted-glass windows to diffuse the light, and sported a large, comfortable couch that was long enough for him to nap on. It was far quieter than the dormitories. He might have his own room these days, but it was still loud with the other young men and boys who lived there. It was restful and quiet, which considering his pounding headache, was welcome. A nap was just the thing to handle the vision-headache that left him nearly blind with pain.

As it happened, that was exactly what he had been doing, his head cradled in Dainea’s lap as she stroked her fingers through his hair. He wasn’t sure when she had come in, but when he woke, she was there, with the hint of lavender lingering around her, and a cool, damp cloth to lay over his eyes.

“Better,” he whispered, still tentative of his aching head. It was a past ache now, but the inside of his skull felt bruised. He pulled the cloth off his eyes and opened them cautiously, only to discover that he had slept until night. The only light in the room was a single oil lamp behind a panel of smoked glass to muffle the lamp’s glow. After a minute to let his eyes adjust, he sat up cautiously. “How long did I sleep?”

“A few hours. It’s not quite time of the evening meal,” Dainea told him gently. Someone had found her a proper dress, not just the healer’s robes. Alivir found himself distracted by the way her hair curled down over her shoulders. The dress was simple, but only seemed to highlight how pretty she was. Her smile was soft. “I thought you might like to be woken in time to eat something.”

“Probably should,” Alivir sighed reluctantly. He hated the dining hall. With all the glass everywhere, it rarely failed to throw visions at him from every angle. He usually ate alone, either in his room or in one of the workrooms. The teachers mostly let him get away with it as long as he made an appearance in the dining hall once a week or so. “Eikh is probably going to tell the school what we found. I should be there.”

“I’m sure we could find some excuse to avoid it if you like,” Dainea offered and waited for him to get himself in order before she moved for the door. “No one would blame you. You looked- we were so worried when you returned to the surface.”

So, he had looked like living death then. Alivir had figured but it was nice of her not to say it outright. He probably could get away with eating alone, or with just Dainea.

He probably shouldn’t avoid it. The announcement would happen sooner or later. It would be better to know what happened rather than hearing about Eikh’s report from others. He was one of Eikh’s students now, and that meant he had a certain amount of responsibility to his new teacher. Master Fraiz hadn’t cared. Master Eikh almost certainly would. He seemed inclined to take Alivir’s education seriously.

Most mages had a reputation they would fight to protect. Alivir had a reputation, alright, but not one he had any hand in making. His Sight took care of that for him. There was a real chance that he would live at the mage school all his days. Nowhere else would have the protections to keep him out of royal hands.

That was all a problem for later. Today the problem was his newly minted status as Eikh’s student, which had definitely changed how the school would view him.

“No, I’ve gotta be there,” he decided reluctantly and offered her his arm. Dainea took it and rested her head on his shoulder. “Will you sit with me?”

“Of course I will,” she promised with a smile that made his heart jump in his chest. He could hardly believe that she had been his statue only a few days ago. “I hear there’s usually dancing after dinner. Will you dance with me?”

“I don’t dance very well.”

Or at all, really, although technically he knew how. He had been critically clumsy before coming to the school. Master Fraiz might not have helped much to train his Sight, but he did a fair bit to help Alivir get comfortable in his own body. Those lessons, at least, had served him well. Now it seemed those same lessons would help him do something that would make Dainea happy.

“I don’t care if you’ve a pair of left feet,” Dainea told him firmly as they made their way through the halls towards the smell of dinner. “I love dancing, or I used to. I want to know if I can still do it.”

Right. Statue. There was no telling how many years she spent locked away. The dances, the language, the food. It must all be entirely new to her. Frankly, Alivir was surprised she was managing as well as she was.

Then again, he remembered two of the school’s mind-healers talking with her. They were probably helping to keep her on an even keel, and to process what had happened to her. Alivir knew them well. He saw them three times a week to help with his visions.

Well, not to help with the visions, but to help him handle what he Saw.

He should probably go see them tomorrow. The adventure down into the pit was sure to come with new and horrific nightmares.

Maybe he should go see them tonight for a no-dreams potion.

That was something to worry about after dinner. Alivir put it firmly into the back of his mind and took a steadying breath.

“If it will make you smile, I’ll dance with you until the end of time,” he told Dainea, who beamed up at him. “Ready to face the school?”

“Together? Always,” she replied and squeezed his arm. “Lead the way, my rescuer. The future cannot be worse than the past has already been.”

+++

Stone Kisses:

Save Me

Spell to See

Kiss to Save

Dust-Streaked (Special thanks to Brandon for the commission!)

Fall Over Fall Back

Reflective Reflection (Subscriber Only!)

Water Runes (Subscriber Only!)

Burning Papers (Subscriber Only!)

Wink out the Light

Catlike Tread

Courtyard Ruined

Down the Hole (Subscriber Only!)

In the Deep

Blinding Sight

Emerge from the Dark

Smoke-glass Lamp (New!)

+++

MASTERLIST

[poorjamesbond]

Tell Them Every Day

This is difficult beyond measure. A wind blows through these redwoods and where once it would have brought me joy, I feel cold in the warm spring air. I hear a woodpecker. There is holly growing in the yard that reminds me of my old house. A sea of acanthus and forget-me-nots. 

I awoke to my little brother telling me she had a fever and they were all going to the hospital. He told me I was welcome to stay as long as I like. I was up within five minutes, but they had already left. The house was still, the cat was not around. There was a cup of coffee left in the darkness of the kitchen. The milk was fresh. I did not look for sugar or for honey the way I normally would have. 

Her bottom lip was cleft at the corner. She had chewed through it. Botox in the sides of her face had helped, I was told, but now she has trouble keeping her mouth closed. It had fallen open on some recent night and her palate had gone so dry that it cracked and bled. I helped hold her forward in the early evening so she didn’t aspirate as she vomited. It was cool in the house. I was sweating with stress. 

“Welcome to our world,” her father said, as we did what we could. As we changed her clothes and cleaned her bed. I shouldn’t have been smoking after my surgeries, but I was. I need to stop again. 

They tell you what to hope for when you’re young, sometimes with words, sometimes without. They don’t tell you what might happen because they knowingly hope that it doesn’t. It always happens to someone else. When it happens to us, no one knows what to say about it.

A shock of what I can only believe were ducks flew through the trees and I was the only one here to see it. I don’t know how to do this. 

She deserves her life far more than I ever did. Loved it more than I ever loved my own. If a crueler mistress than this sort of cold reality exists, I have not met it. Could not even imagine it, as doing so would go against all I’d been taught, to hope for the best. All we’d been taught. All of us. Though, honestly, I’ve never been very good at it. 

She had always been patient with my sickness. Every time I spoke to her I’d tell her, out of blind hope, that I believed I was close to a personal breakthrough. I wasn’t. I just needed her to think I was okay. I wasn’t. And every time we parted, she’d tell me we should speak more often. We didn’t. 

Now the choice has been made for us. We will not likely speak again, as much as I am supposed to believe we will. I remember her as an infant. I remember her as a girl. I remember her as a woman open to this world in ways I could not fathom. She would greet her day with gratitude I only ever knew as foreign. She chose it. 

And in some endlessly mysterious way, she chose this. It’s too much to wrap the mind around. The last time that we communicated, she sent me photographs of the gorgeous architecture of the Germans. I was so happy for her. I asked if she was in Spain. She said no. She was still in Bremen. She missed her flight with intention. Germany called to her and she felt the need to stay. It was a compulsion. The accident was the following day. 

My follow-up text was only hours too late. She would never read it. She was already fighting for her life. 

I don’t know how to do this. Yet here I am, trying to do it. It’s like trying to glean meaning from an unknown language, or attempting true wilderness without water or a compass. 

One of her first words was my name. She’d wake up in the morning and cry it out with gleeful repetition. She loved me before we had been taught what love was. 

I needed her more than I thought I did. I don’t know how to do this.

[areeta9]

A Study in the Color of Ravens' Feathers pt.2

Quote

He has already been sucked in. To that pitch-black world. Yes, in retrospect, Mr. H probably has, with that clear, proud head of his, already sensed his true wish. Young Harry was far too talented. That is why Mr. H never mentioned to ‘look into solved cases’, knowing its meaning and significance to him, and Mr. H probably has surmised even his original goal. Harry can no longer be stopped by what I say, because he was already overflowing with excitement and joy at being able to continue to assist Mr. H. I could only wish that he would not be pulled further into those depths. And yet, he jumped in that abyss on his own volition. Not only in London – he also peeked into the criminal world of all of Europe. Not just killers. His investigation also extended to large-scale conspiracies. The sins and evil trampling on humanity and sneering at the law. In one go, he found out the horrifying, terrible faces many people tried so hard to keep hidden; and yet, undauntedly, fearlessly, he continued his investigation, continued to draw up even more data for Mr. H. He personally went to the opium den on East End, and even asked a certain group of boys for the current situation. Unbeknownst to anyone, Harry spent his days furiously trying to probe into that darkness. That force and vigor is reminiscent of the Orient express that has started being operational in recent years, or rather, like a transcontinental train running at full speed through a new continent on an endless journey, and so worried was I for his sake that one night, I told him: “You shouldn’t keep doing that, Harry. Mr. H is truly satisfied with the data you gathered but – and excuse my rudeness for saying this – even you, compared to his extensive information network, are only one person. Surely you aren’t aiming to keep playing a spy.” And this young man, this stubborn Mr. Henry Jekyll, instead of looking disappointed like I had wanted, replied with a refreshing smile. “I’ve already been interested in this, Doctor. As they are, humans will only continue to accumulate more horrifying and dreadful evil. We are too easily possessed by resentment and hatred. If you ask me, I think humans is the Devil [Satan]. And why is that? According to the Church’s teachings, if a Messiah will shoulder all of humanity’s sins, then humans can freely stain their hands with cruelty and evil.” “I don’t care if you want to criticize how his methods are wrong but, aren’t you being too much of a hopeless romantic? Calm down, Harry. Any more than this and I would recommend you to smoke some pipe.” “…I’m sorry. I said too much.” Even though I said such harsh things, he wasn’t even a little bit angry. Truly, he is a sincere soul who is not at all tempted by evil. Perhaps, I thought. The light hidden within this young man, without losing its gentleness, might just be able to survive and stay shining in the darkness. But, I was mistaken. Before long, dear Jekyll saw a possibility. That is ---- Murder amounts to half of the London metropolis’ crimes, and if we estimate that almost all crimes remain unsolved, it is an atrocity. Figuratively speaking, England – or rather, the entire nation – is like a spider’s nest comprised of more than a thousand threads of evil; and in the center must be the one who controls all of it ---- yes, we can even call that person the Napoleon of the criminal world, the personification of evil, the incarnation of the darkness within our character. The one who festers evil. The feared one. The one who disrupts order, destroys the world, and corrupts all that is good. And yet, in our society he is the one who escaped his karma and walked free without any punishment---- It is because of him that my friend Mr. H has continued to work so tirelessly on all those follow-up investigations! The one who, with a wicked resourcefulness normal people cannot comprehend, still yet spreads his evil and sins throughout our society like a monster! While I know the truth about what is going on; Mr. H and I have been locked in mortal combat with that huge crime syndicate, and will continue to do so for years to come but, before that, at a point in a certain month in 18xx, dear Dr. Henry Jekyll was thoroughly troubled. It was not a physical-related problem. It is as if his logic and reasoning has been trapped in an invisible cage of his own self. He who had known about the existence of the accumulation of humanity’s evil incarnated (even though such a possibility should be close to nil!) has – and while this expression is not wrong, it may be misleading – become fascinated. With the feared Napoleon of Crime? No. With evil.

---- After that, Mr. Henry Jekyll secluded himself in his mansion. A complete change to his image as a sociable gentleman, he not only quit his teaching job but also nearly disappeared. Naturally that means he can no longer help Mr. H with investigations or be able to talk to me. At that time, I insisted that a good young man living in this city should not set foot in the lower depths of the criminal world, but somehow Mr. H did not agree and only told me that, since an incident has not happened, I should just mind my own business. Days passed while I kept worrying about Harry. But, the incident happened. It happened. At that time, London was in an uproar because of a murder case of a member of Parliament; and only shortly after that, Harry – Mr. Henry Jekyll mysteriously committed suicide by poison. Alone, secluded in his library, his final moments surely were terribly troubled. I cannot even begin to imagine how it must have been. If only, at that time ---- even though I have had so many chances! ---- I had dampened Harry’s enthusiasm, if he had stayed a young gentleman blissfully unaware of the world’s darkness, he would not have met such a tragic death. “Your regret is because you wanted a different conclusion; but in a sense this is what he himself had wanted.” On our way back from Harry’s funeral, Mr. H told me this but, I don’t agree. Even now. I am filled with regret and sorrow. Because he is someone who should not have approached evil.

Unquote

[itsokbbygrl]

Hi. I meant to write sooner, but time got away from me. And I’m sorry I’m advance about how long this is. Your post about Louis’ recent promo cycle really resonated with me. I was feeling like it was all a bit “off,” but couldn’t quite pinpoint what was bothering me.

I agree that this round of promo has lacked the nuance we’ve always gotten. Looking at recent interviews, I think the takeaways are 1) Louis is very loyal to his fans, 2) he drinks a lot of beer and smokes a lot of cigarettes, 3) there’s a fair bit of vodka and pot in the mix, 4) he parties a lot when he’s on the road, and 5) he likes football. Regarding his emphasis on the fans, that’s great, but I haven’t seen talk of who his fans are, so it’d be easy to come away thinking his fans are mostly white guys his age, which is also what’s represented in his band and his music recommendations.

He’s previously talked about his respect for his fans and, regarding young, female fans in particular, the unfair ageist and sexist judgment they face. He’s directly addressed and disavowed toxic masculinity. He’s shown support for queer and trans fans. He supported Black Lives Matter. The recent press cycle doesn’t even hint at any of this, doesn’t even hint that he’s the kind of person who’d do any of this. Unless you’ve followed him for a while, you’d have no idea of any of these things, and you’d probably not understand why fans are so loyal.

When I went to his show in Philadelphia last winter, I sat next to a woman who was there with her fourteen year old daughter and a couple of her daughter’s friends. The mom and I started talking about general parent stuff (I have two younger kids). She didn’t really know anything about Louis, and asked me, as a mom, if I thought he was a good guy for her daughter to be a fan of. I raved about Louis. I said something like, “ok, he’s going to come out and swear a lot, but as far as the important stuff goes when you’re thinking about your kid, he’s a GREAT person for her to be a fan of.” Then I went through all the stuff I listed above. I’ve been thinking that if that mom’s only other exposure to Louis were current press, she might be ok with her daughter being a fan, but she’d also think that I strongly overstated the stuff that I told her makes him so great.

When I started feeling like there was something off about recent promo, I told myself, “well, they’re mostly short interviews; they can only focus on limited topics; he doesn’t control all of that; etc.” Then I realized, all my positive impressions of Louis come from the same types of sources. It’s not like I’ve ever had a direct personal relationship with him. When he first came on my radar, I was a blank slate. I came away with positive feelings because of the same type of media as the current promo cycle. If all the positive stuff, the nuance and depth, came through before, there’s no reason it shouldn’t come through now, too. And I think its absence is noticeable and worth wondering about.

I’m new to the fandom on Tumblr. I already knew people could get toxic, so I wasn’t necessarily surprised by some of the reactions you got to your post, but I’m still saddened. I’m sorry you had to deal with it. I think if Oli came on here and said anything that didn’t fit in with the party line, even if it wasn’t objectively negative, he’d be attacked as a traitor and a liar.

Sorry for the long and rambling message. I really don’t mean to dump all this on you, or drag you back to something negative. It’s just all been on my mind and I found your post really helpful.

Hi! No need to apologize. I appreciate you taking the time to write down your thoughts and send them my way! I think you nailed it with “lack of nuance.” That’s really what it’s all come down to.

Louis at the signings has been a breath of fresh air. I mean, it’s the Louis we’ve known and love vs some of what’s recently been projected. He has such lovely positive energy IRL and I feel that is the thing that’s been lacking in some of his media bits where he comes off as kind of a hater (see: ladbible). The track by track sessions have been amazing as well. He’s so articulate and savvy, and it’s lovely to see him get the media space to show it.

Hoping this doesn’t invite negative discourse or unnecessary shading. Sorry if this isn’t entirely coherent, I’m batting a nasty headache and pretty severe anxiety at the moment, so the thoughts are all over the place. Lovely to have you stop by! ❤️

[harrison-abbott]

Elsie wanted to be a ballet dancer since she was a little girl, was all she ever wanted to be. Most kids have fleeting fantasies – imagining they’ll be famous athletes or whatnot – it’s natural. But most of them aren’t that good. Elsie’s catch was that she was, able with ballet, passionate, driven. She practised and then she got picked up into this dancing academy before the age of ten and she kept going and going, performing in halls. Was definitely destined to make it her profession, in swoops, grace, symphonic waves.

She broke her right ankle when she was fifteen. Riding her bicycle along the street, a car whooshed out, where it shouldn’t have been. She swerved to avoid it. Landed badly and broke the ankle. Couldn’t dance for five months. Then had to do rehabilitation. During the time period she missed out on a draft that would lift the group of girls in the academy into a higher bracket. Elsie wasn’t fit enough. And was subsequently left behind whilst her peers were able to attune their craft in the adult batch.

Then when she was sixteen and confident to make a comeback, she broke the ankle for a second time. On stage; it was quite the spectacle, accompanied by gasps: shocked the whole auditorium.

Depression followed. She couldn’t quite fathom the verve to go through another rehabilitation process. Was old enough to quit high school, so she did that, and her grades were mediocre. Didn’t much fancy college. So she didn’t apply and had a ‘year out’ where she lived at home.

And got a job working at a local convenience store. Where met this other girl called Delphine, who was way different from girls she’d known in high school. Delphine was quite the character, and she could drive, and she took Elsie out for bouts in the country. Was old enough to buy drink too, and they drank and smoked in the fields. And quite pretty too, and lots of boys liked her.

There was a party Delphine took Elsie too, with further lads. One took a fancy to Elsie and the night culminated her loss of virginity; Elsie was sad that the boy never called again – she was sensitive like that – but Delphine told her not to care.

The summer came. And there were a glorious amount of other parties to head to. Delphine got hanging out with these young men who were into cocaine and MDMA and vodka. Delphine could handle it pretty well, and liked it. Elsie was a bit coy at first. But did it because Delphine was.

Warm nights. The gang drove down to the woods, by the river. Lit a bonfire. Took the drugs. The blue magic atrium of the dark trees all around: they could’ve been anywhere on the planet. Somebody came up with this great idea to go swimming. Elsie jumped into the river with them. They larked, swam, sang. The members dispersed at different angles in the water. Elsie began swimming away from the fire, for she liked the thrust and pull of her limbs. And she ventured out farther than she’d intended. And realised she’d gone a little too far. It was dark too. She swivelled, and made to turn back. And pinged forward with a little too much umph.

Something snapped in her ankle. Elsie yelped. And lost ten seconds, with a new agony in her foot.

“Delphine?” she called out.

There was no answer. She couldn’t see the others in the river.

“I think I’ve hurt my foot again, Delphine. Help?”

She swallowed some gulps of water as she tried to tread. Then she forced herself to swim. But couldn’t – the ankle made her right leg obsolete. She choked. “Delphine! I’m in trouble.” Her nose went under and she spluttered. And lost direction of the current, and the latter roved her further from the campsite …

Elsie’s body was found not too many hours later, by a search party, downriver. In infant daylight with pearly birdsong throughout the forest.

Her body was snagged on the branches of a tree trunk which had fallen across the water. The pink dress she wore was swirled around her body in these flowery loops; her bare feel were dainty, and her face quite calm.

[runnning-outof-time]

K! Congratulations on your 2k followers, for your celebration can I ask for “ i didn’t mean that. ” with Tommy?

Thank you so much for sending this in! I’m sorry it took a bit to get to. I hope you enjoy! 🥰 Also I’ve decided to use the family from my Girl Dad series because I miss them…I had a little bit too much fun with this one.

Thank you for helping me celebrate hitting 2K followers! Want to read more blurbs from this celebration? Check out this post!

Something You Should Never Say

Tommy Shelby

Warnings: smoking

(Y/N) walks in on an argument between her daughters and immediately sees that Tommy needs some help moderating it.

She heard them the second she entered the house. The two, unmistakeable voices speaking in rapid succession of each other at a shrill volume. She immediately wondered where Tommy was while this was happening. Her wonders were answered the second she got to the archway of the front room.

“You can’t take things from her without asking, Thea,” he tried to reason with their eldest child, who had one of the meanest looks on her face at the moment.

“Yes I can, dad. I’m the oldest,” she huffed, crossing her arms over her chest as she held her glare.

“But you’ve hurt Evie’s feelings,” he pointed out, motioning to the two year old that was still clinging onto him as she cried.

“So what?” Thea showed no remorse, “she always takes my toys and doesn’t ask and then she sticks her tongue out at me when I want them back, and I don’t tell on her, but when I do it to her she goes crying to you and…and…I don’t like my sister!” she then went into a heated rant about how she felt things were unfair, ending it with clenching her fists together and stomping the ground out of anger.

“Woah!” (Y/N) finally jumped into the conversation. She had no doubt that Tommy would handle it, because he looked like he was fixing to, but she couldn’t stand idle anymore and just listen. “What have you just said about your sister?”

Thea’s eyes widened at the sound of her mother’s voice. In her anger, she hadn’t noticed (Y/N) enter the room. “I…I didn’t mean that, mummy,” she stammered out, all of the momentum from her argument now gone.

“I sure hope you didn’t,” (Y/N) kept the appalled look on her face, hoping to keep stacking the guilt onto the five year old. Sure she was young and would make these mistakes, but it was up to her parents to let her know that they wouldn’t be tolerated.

“Young ladies shouldn’t speak like that,” Tommy jumped in after quickly glancing in (Y/N)’s direction. He was happy that he didn’t have to go at this situation solo anymore…they’d been wearing him down the entire afternoon. “Especially to their baby sisters. Do you understand me?”

“Yes, daddy,” Thea nodded fervently, jutting her bottom lip out as she started sniffling back her tears.

“Evie taking a toy from you and not giving it back does not justify you saying that you don’t like her as a sister. That is something you should never say about any of your siblings because their feelings might get really hurt by it,” (Y/N) explained, her voice calm as she tried to get her eldest child to understand the reason why she should not say such hurtful things.

“I know, mummy…I’m sorry,” the child sniffled, as she pressed her chin into her collarbone, one of the tell-tale signs that she was trying not to cry.

“Say you’re sorry to Evie,” (Y/N) told her, nodding her head to the toddler, who was still tucked into her daddy’s embrace. At least she’d stopped crying now.

Thea nodded before moving over to her sister. “I’m sorry, Evie,” she said in a soft voice as she gently patted the other little girl on her back.

“Thank you,” Tommy whispered to Thea, knowing that Evie wouldn’t say much in response. Her crying had stopped completely though, so that was a good sign.

“Why don’t you find Ms. Frances and ask her to get you ready for bed?” (Y/N) suggested then.

“Ok,” Thea nodded, moving over to her mother then so that she could hug her.

(Y/N) accepted the hug, kneeling down so that she’d be able to wrap her arms around her daughter properly. “Go,” she whispered into the child’s hair, and Thea nodded as they pulled away. (Y/N) smiled as the child then exited the room to find Frances. (Y/N) sent a smile in Tommy’s direction as she moved over and sat on the empty cushion of the couch. “Long day?” she questioned with raised eyebrows.

“Something like that,” Tommy answered with a bit of a sigh.

“Mumma!” Evie exclaimed, finally unwinding herself from Tommy’s arms so that she could go into her mother’s. (Y/N) happily took the toddler in, hugging her close to her body as the little girl sat on her lap.

Tommy smiled at the interaction before he stood from the couch and moved over to the chair in the corner of the room. There, he opened his tin of cigarettes and took one out, rolling it across his bottom lip before he lit it with his lighter. He sunk down into the chair as he took a drag, and let the smoke billow slowly past his lips with a long sigh. (Y/N) smiled as he looked over at her with tired eyes.

“Are you ready to go to bed, my love?” (Y/N) asked softly as she glanced down at Evie, who was still hugging onto her mother with her head tucked under her arm.

“Yes,” Tommy responded before the little girl could, a groan laced into his voice.

“I wasn’t talking to you, Tommy,” (Y/N) said while trying, and ultimately failing, to stiffle her giggles. Tommy chuckled and glanced over at her before he shook his head and took another drag of his cigarette.

“Bedtime?” Evie asked then, finally emerging to look at her mom.

“Yes,” (Y/N) nodded, a soft smile on her face.

“Take me!” the little girl exclaimed, and that was all (Y/N) needed to stand up from the couch with the toddler in her arms to that she could take her to her nursery.

It didn’t take long for her to get Evie to sleep and then check on Thea - who was also sleeping. She hoped that Tommy would still be in the front room as she walked back down the steps. She exhaled a breath of relief when she saw him, still slumped in the chair like she’d left him.

“They did a number on you today, didn’t they?” she commented as she moved over to the chair so that she could sit on his lap. He happily allowed her, his one hand dropping onto her thigh as she hooked her arms around his neck and rested against his chest. “You’ve not even moved to go to your office.”

“I’ve got nothing left in me for my work tonight,” he commented, his eyes focused on the fire.

“Who knew that girls could be so brutal to each other,” (Y/N) pondered aloud after a few quiet moments had passed.

“Yeah,” Tommy snorted in agreement, “and something tells me this won’t be the worst of it.” (Y/N) laughed softly at his statement and silently hoped that it wouldn’t come true.

“Would you wanna have another?” she then asked softly, breaking the silence again.

“Girl?” Tommy looked at her with raised eyebrows.

“Yeah,” (Y/N) nodded.

“After tonight? No…” he shook his head before tipping it back to rest against the chair. He stared at the ceiling for a few moments then, looking as if he was contemplating how to word the next part of his answer. He let a few more moments pass before continuing, “check back with me tomorrow though…the answer may change,” he said, looking over at her then as a grin spread across his lips.

(Y/N) only laughed at his statement before resting her head in the crook of his neck. She kissed the skin she found there, smiling as she felt him squeeze her thigh in response. Something told her that they’d be having that next girl sooner rather than later.

Tagged: @mgcllovdrms @the-anxious-youth @cloudofdisney @look-at-the-soul @golden-hoax @elenavampire21 @peaky-cillian @mrsalwayswrite @julkaamazing @evita-shelby @lilyrachelcassidy @notyour-valentine @shelbydelrey @december16-1991 @onlydeadcells @peakyswritings @just-a-blackhole @watercolorskyy @strayrockette @peakyduchesss @alexxavicry @captivatedbycillianmurphy @yummycastiel @dark-academia-slut @tommystargirl @stevie75 @lyarr24 @signorellisantichrist @zablife @anotherblinder @midnightmagpiemama @cillmequick @rangerelik @lovemissyhoneybee @dandelionprints @letal-y-poetica

MASTERLIST

[seaofghouls]

DELTARUNE CHAPTER 2 SPOILERS!!

spamton x reader

You swiftly made your way out of the mansion for the day with a smile on your face. Hm.. It wouldn’t hurt to stop by the tea shop on the way back, would it? A nice treat. Ah, The Addisons. Had the best products money could buy. Though, none could top Mr. Spamton’s sales. He went missing years ago, however.

The smile on your face diminished as you thought about it. You were fairly close to him, when he lived in the mansion. There were two head butlers, you and Swatch. You both managed Color Cafe and ordered the Swatchlings around, as well as attending to Queen’s bidding. Both of you had been fairly busy as of late, with the lightners arrival.

You almost didn’t even realize that you had arrived at your destination, enveloped in your thoughts. Tea.. that’s right. Mayhaps you should pick up some cake as well.

“Good evening, [Name]! To what do I owe the pleasure of pleasing the head butler?” Pink greeted.

“Hello, Pink! I’ve come to pick up some tea and maybe some cake.” You smiled at him.

“And I thought I told you that my status doesn’t affect anything outside of work. You don’t have to make such a big deal out of it.” You sighed.

“Keep telling yourself that, but you’re much more important than you may think.” Pink said.

“Yeah, yeah, I get it.” You huffed.

“Anywho, got any new tea flavors?” You asked.

“I do indeed! Believe it or not, four new flavors have been shipped in with the arrival of the lightners. Kris, Susie, Ralsei and Noelle.” Pink said.

“Hm.. Noelle sounds good. Queen’s peon, I believe. She’s a delight.” You hummed.

Pink prepared your tea as you talked about her.

“Always talking about that Susie girl. Ah, young love. It’s refreshing, to say the least.” You smiled.

Pink hummed in agreement. “And did you want any cake?”

“Oh, yes, of course, just give me the usual flavor.” You said.

“She’s so timid but when she speaks her mind, it’s a sight to see. She’s so sweet, especially to Birdley. Which.. I find it a bit complexing based on their relations.” You continued on.

“I see. Here’s your items.” Pink handed the tea and cake to you and you payed him back.

“Thanks, Pink. Man, I should get going. It’s getting late.” You said, looking at the time.

“Well, I’ll be off. Good night, Pink!” You waved.

“Good night!” The Addison smiled.

You dropped your bags on the counter in your apartment and sighed. It’s been a long day. Plopping down on the couch, you sighed contently and turned on the television. You could probably order some food or whatever. You didn’t really feel like cooking.

You groaned in annoyance as your phone rang.

“..Hello?”

“Oh [Name] Sugar Honey Sweetie Gravy Pie!”

“Ah, hey Queen. It’s.. afterhours. Did you need something?” You sat up.

“I’m Terribly Sorry But I Need You To Come Back To The Mansion. I Can’t Find The Lightners And I Need Both You And Swatch.” She said.

Of course.

“Yeah, yeah, I’m on my way. Just sit tight.” You sighed, getting ready.

The city was noisy as ever, cars blocking up certain paths. You made your way into the mansion eventually, though. Swatch was waiting for you when you entered.

“So, we’re on a goose hunt from what I understand?” You asked, looking at them.

“It would seem that way, yes. The Swatchlings are maintaining the shop, so for now, let’s split up to find them.” Swatch said.

“Is Queen sure they’re even here?” You asked.

“Why Yes I’m Absolutely Positive [Name]!” Queen said, seemingly materializing out of thin air.

You would be surprised, but this tends to happen a lot.

“..Alright. Better get going then. Break a leg.” You said with a grin.

“I could say the same to you.” Swatch returned your expression.

You looked and looked around your selected areas of the mansion but with no trace of anything yet. You shouldn’t be surprised, it is a mansion after all. You arrived upon a door, leading into the basement. Hearing destruction entailing within, you decided to check it out. Sounds like a commotion, so it’s likely that they’re here.

What are they fighting? You had not the slightest clue. The basement was dark and damp. You simply followed the sound of the commotion. Kris, Susie and Ralsei were at the edge of the room and Kris was kneeled down.

“There you guys are! Finally. That took forever to find you.” You smiled.

“Woah, are they okay?” You paused.

“KRIS!! YOU HAVE FRIENDS! WHY DON’T YOU TELL THEM ABOUT MY [ 3 for One Specil!!]” Someone cackled.

They were all scooped up in coasters, You were bunked with Ralsei.

“HOLY-!” You gasped out at the figure in front of you.

Your good friend, who had gone missing years ago, except he was eleven feet tall and a robot, attached by strings.

“..SPAMTON?!” Your jaw dropped.

Ralsei closed your jaw with his paw. “Will you help us??”

“Yeah. Y-Yeah! Of course. Gotta reserve your energy for Queen.” You said, trying to brush off your initial shock.

Spamton cackled like a madman. “[HEAVEN], ARE YOU WATCHING??”

“Totally helps with the knowledge that my best friend who went missing forever ago is trying to kill us.” You said sarcastically.

The four of you worked together to snap the wires attached to Spamton. There were a lot, however.

“Heaven?? Big Shots? What the hell are you talking about?” You asked in confusion.

“DON’T YOU SEE [NAME]?? THIS IS THE [Key] TO FREEDOM!” He cackled.

“Yeah, except it’s not.” You rolled your eyes.

The air crackled with freedom, supposedly. You kept going, following Kris’s command until the last wire remained.

“WAIT!! [$!?!] THE PRESSES! MY WIRES! THEY’RE ALMOST GONE?? I’M BEING GIFTED MY FREEDOM??” Spamton paused.

“That’s what we’ve been trying to accomplish this entire time, yes.” You said.

“I SEE!! THE MOST IMPORTANT DEAL OF ALL! FRIENDSHIP!!” He cried.

“I’LL LIVE FOR MYSELF!! MYSELF AND MY FRIENDS!! CUT THAT LAST WIRE!!” He cheered.

You grinned and nodded at the others.

One final act.

The wire was sliced and the robot crashed to the floor. When the smoke cleared, Spamton was encased in vines. Much smaller than he was before.

You approached him slowly.

The others stayed back.

You untangled him from the vines and had a slight frown as you held him, almost like a little kid.

“It appears all that I could be was a simple puppet. I do hope you’ll be able to free yourself. Do what I couldn’t.” He sighed.

He gave the group a Black Crystal.

“C’mon, Spamton. We’re going home.” You said.

“Work can wait.” You took a breath.

…

“So you found them and someone else, hm?” Swatch said, after you met back up with them in Color Cafe.

Spamton had fallen asleep. That battle took a lot out of him.

“Yup. Now I’m gonna take some well deserved time off.” You grinned.

“For how long?” They asked.

“Maybe two days to a week. Depends on how he’s doing.” You said, referring to Spamton.

“Be safe, won’t you?” Swatch gave a soft smile.

“I always am.” You smiled back.

You pet Spamton’s hair on the way back home and sighed with content.

You finally had him back.

[dreamsoffantasty]

━━ ❀   𝐇𝐀𝐋𝐒𝐄𝐘'𝐒: 𝐁𝐀𝐃𝐋𝐀𝐍𝐃𝐒 ( 𝟐𝟎𝟏𝟓 )  𝐏𝐀𝐑𝐓 𝟏 ❀ feel free to change the pronouns as you see fit ! 

𝐂𝐀𝐒𝐓𝐋𝐄

❛ sick of all these people talking. ❜

❛ sick of all this noise. ❜

❛ tired of all these cameras flashing. ❜

❛ sick of being poised. ❜

❛ Already choking on my pride, so there's no use crying about it. ❜

❛ I'm headed straight for the castle. ❜

❛ they wanna make me their queen. ❜

❛ there's an old man sitting on the throne that's saying that,   ❝  I probably shouldn't be so mean.  ❞  ❜

❛ I should probably keep my pretty mouth shut . ❜

❛ all of these minutes passing, sick of feeling used. ❜

❛ if you wanna break these walls down, you're gonna get bruised. ❜

❛ there's no use crying about it. ❜

𝐇𝐎𝐋𝐃 𝐌𝐄 𝐃𝐎𝐖𝐍

❛ my demons are begging me to open up my mouth. ❜

❛ they fight me, vigorous and angry, watch them pounce. ❜

❛ I sold my soul to a three-piece. ❜

❛ he told me I was holy. ❜

❛ he's got me down on both knees. ❜

❛ but it's the devil that's tryna hold me down. ❜

❛ I want more, this is what I live for. ❜

❛ selfish, taking what I want and call it mine. ❜

❛ they rush me, telling me I'm running out of time. ❜

❛ they shush me, walking me across a fragile line ❜

𝐍𝐄𝐖 𝐀𝐌𝐄𝐑𝐈𝐂𝐀𝐍𝐀

❛ survival of the richest, the city's ours until the fall. ❜

❛ high on legal marijuana. ❜

❛ young James Dean, some say he looks just like his father. ❜

❛ he could never love somebody's daughter. ❜

❛ we know very well who we are. ❜

❛ What kind of dough have you been spending? ❜

𝐃𝐑𝐈𝐕𝐄

❛ my neck, the feeling of your soft lips. ❜

❛ all we do is drive. ❜

❛ all we do is think about the feelings that we hide. ❜

❛ all we do is think about the feelings that we hide. ❜

❛ all we do is sit in silence waiting for a sign. ❜

❛ sick and full of pride. ❜

❛ never felt like home. ❜

❛ your laugh echoes down the highway. ❜

❛ would it really kill you if we kissed? ❜

𝐇𝐔𝐑𝐑𝐈𝐂𝐀𝐍𝐄

❛ a little liquor on my lips. ❜

❛ there's a storm you're starting now. ❜

❛ I'm a one night stand. ❜

❛ don't belong to no city. ❜

❛ don't belong  to no man. ❜

❛ I'm the violence in the pouring rain. ❜

❛ I'm a hurricane. ❜

❛ I found myself reminded to keep you far away from me. ❜

❛ he says,   ❝ oh, baby, beggin' you to save me. ❞ ❜

❛ maybe, you could devastate me. ❜

𝐑𝐎𝐌𝐀𝐍 𝐇𝐎𝐋𝐈𝐃𝐀𝐘

❛ do you remember the taste of my lips that night? ❜

❛ I stole a bit of my mother's perfume. ❜

❛ I remember the fear in your eyes. ❜

❛ late December with my heart in my chest and the clouds of my breath. ❜

❛ we'll be looking for sunlight. ❜

❛ we know that we're headstrong. ❜

❛ our heart's gone. ❜

❛ the timing's never right. ❜

❛ we'll be running again. ❜

❛keep close, stand tall. ❜

𝐆𝐇𝐎𝐒𝐓

❛ I'm searching for something that I can't reach. ❜

❛ I don't like them innocent. ❜

❛ I like the sad eyes, bad guys. ❜

❛ mouth full of white lies. ❜

❛ you say that you're no good for me. ❜

❛ cause I'm always tugging at your sleeve. ❜

❛ I swear   ❝ I hate you  ❞ when you leave. ❜

❛ my ghost where'd you go? ❜

❛ I'm off the deep end. ❜

❛ saying that I love him but I know I'm gonna leave him... ❜

𝐂𝐎𝐋𝐎𝐑𝐒

❛ your little brother never tells you but he loves you so. ❜

❛ your said your mother only smiled on her TV show. ❜

❛ you're only happy when your sorry head is filled with dope. ❜

❛ I hope you make it to the day you're 28 years old. ❜

❛ you're dripping like a saturated sunrise. ❜

❛ you're spilling like an overflowing sink. ❜

❛ you're ripped at every edge but you're a masterpiece. ❜

❛ now you're tearing through the pages and the ink. ❜

❛ Everything is blue his pills, blue his hands, blue his jeans. ❜

❛ everything is grey his hair, his smoke, his dreams. ❜

❛ now he's so devoid of color he don't know what it means. ❜

❛ you were a vision in the morning when the light came through. ❜

❛ I know I've only felt religion when I've lied with you. ❜

❛ said you'll never be forgiven 'til your boys are too. ❜

❛ I'm still waking every morning but it's not with you . ❜

❛ you were red and you liked me 'cause I was blue. ❜

❛ but you touched me and suddenly I was a lilac sky. ❜

❛ you decided purple just wasn't for you. ❜

𝐒𝐓𝐑𝐀𝐍𝐆𝐄 𝐋𝐎𝐕𝐄

❛ everybody wants to know. ❜

❛ how you laughed when you said my name . ❜

❛ we wrote a story in the fog on the windows that night. ❜

❛ but the ending is the same every damn time. ❜

❛ they think I'm insane, they think my lover is strange. ❜

❛ but I don't have to fucking tell them anything. ❜

❛ I'm gonna write it all down, and I'm gonna sing it on stage. ❜

❛ I don't have to fucking tell you anything. ❜

❛ everybody's waiting up to hear if I dare speak your name. ❜

❛ they know you walk like you're a God, they can't believe I made you weak. ❜

❛ these days I can't seem to get along with anyone. ❜

❛ these days I can't seem to make this right. ❜

❛ that's the beauty of a secret. ❜

❛ you know you're supposed to keep it. ❜

[pretty-toastie]

Cassandra

[ok so i kinda maybe lied when i said "Flowers" was coming soon,, it's finished but idk i'm hesitant to post it. in the meantime tho have this little short story / mood piece!!!]

Things that are tangled: The loop of red string I keep in my pocket, rub absently between my fingers, twist into tiny shapes. The boughs and vines and briars of Central Park. The feelings inside people, the friendship that skirts the edge of love and the hatred that hides behind eyelashes wet with loss. The scream of crows perched high in hemlocks, in birches, in oaks and aspens and yews, raspy and joyful and defiant. The thatched roof of a home on the rocky shore of Ireland and the carpeted floor of an arcade strewn with neon geometry, both rough on my hands in the same way.

The prophecies that hang in the air, the knowledge that suffuses the atmosphere and drips, blackened, over the heads of people, invisible to all but me.

Time.

A pair of young girls—was I ever that young?—stumbled across me once, in the woods of northern France or in an alley in Rio de Janeiro. Their gaze fell on me, wrapped in a battered bomber jacket, the patches torn away long ago or long after, and I exhaled a cloud of cigarette smoke and stared back at them. They stood frozen, side by side, their eyes wide. I watched one girl shift closer to the other, whisper something in French or Portuguese, grab the other’s hand, her fingers trembling slightly.

I wanted to put them at ease. I knew what it felt like to be a deer in the headlights of an unexpected encounter. Your children are beautiful, I told them. You raised them so well. And they are, and they did—I can see them, all bright smiles and bubbling laugher and round cheeks, all dirty hands and strong arms and herbs tucked into leather pouches, all grey hair and wrinkled skin and wisdom.

The girls couldn’t see, though. They couldn’t know yet. Of course.

It’s so easy to forget what you should and shouldn’t know yet. The years blend together, and it’s hard to know when you are, where you are. Sometimes it makes me feel insane.

A young man, maybe 19 or 20, found me once. He was out of breath, anxious, spoke in rapid Old English. They say you’re a witch, he said. Can you change me? Can you fix my body? They don’t see who I am. They refuse to see who I am. It broke my heart to have to tell him no, tell him that all I can do is see, that the only way I can change anything is to warn people.

I cannot bring myself to tell him that no one will ever heed my warnings.

Once, an old couple—will I ever be that old?—greeted me with a nod in Shiretoko National Park. They smiled at me, smiled at each other, smiled at the view. For a long time, they did not speak to me. When they did, finally, their words were slow, calm. Thank you, they said. You told us we would find happiness. We didn’t believe you, but we did. We have. Thank you. I didn’t remember having met them before. Maybe it hadn’t happened yet.

Things that are tangled: The pieces of soft, soft cloth I keep in my pocket, rub absently between my fingers, worried and worn and frayed. The wrought iron fence gates of a manor in northern Vermont. The calls of screech owls and foxes, hunting at night, earsplitting, beautiful. The smell of woodsmoke, the taste of basil and rosemary and lemongrass and mint. My feelings. How can I love someone if I can see the day she will die in vivid detail, know that I will long outlast her? How can I love someone when I know that she would do anything for me, that for me to love her would destroy her? How can I love someone when I can see her wife’s face in my mind, always, always, and it isn’t mine?

But then, how could I not? She makes me water with basil and rosemary and lemongrass and mint. She takes me to an arcade, laughs when I need to stop to run my fingers over the carpet of neon geometry but waits patiently all the same, listens when I tell stories about places I’ve been and things I’ve seen and people I’ve met. She walks with me through Central Park, smiles excitedly at me when the foxes and the crows and the screech owls scream.

Her face in the moonlight is the most beautiful thing I’ve ever seen, and I have seen everything. She never asks me about her future.

And then her future arrives. It always had happened, always would happen, but I can only live through that time once. I wasn’t there. I left her. I was lost in the tangled weave of time and space and future and past, hunched over in the rain on the edge of a street in the middle of somewhere, terrified by the swirling mass of certainty that hung in front of the faces of everyone who passed me. I was broken, I was lost. I knew everything. I could not remember my name. I watched the end of the world against the inside of my eyelids, again and again and again, and I could not tell where I was, when I was. I did not know how to get back to her.

I left her, and I was gone for so long, and she fell in love. Really, truly, deeply. She and her wife were so happy, are so happy, will be so happy. I breathe in, breathe out. I have always known. I could see our ending from the moment I met her. I am so, so happy for her, but—

I still didn’t expect it to hurt so much.

Things that are tangled: the lines of fate that bind people together, tear them apart. The red strings, the dark shapes, the ever-changing and always static line of history, stretching away in all directions. The sound of raindrops on asphalt. The taste of loss, bitter in my mouth—I only lived it once but I know it always, again and again and again. I feel insane. I know that I am not. No one ever heeds my warnings, everyone always wants to hear them.

I blow a cloud of cigarette smoke into the damp night air, pull my worn jacket closer around me.

Time keeps on. It always has. It always will. And I will bear witness to it all.