dusty shelf


Mystic Messenger Mafia AU


Word Count: 1,473


     The small general store was quiet except for the sound of a young man’s broom sweeping across the floor and the faint echo of a radio playing from a backroom. The only customer was a tall man whom had been lurking a far aisle, his eyes scanning the various cans on the slightly dusty shelf while his left hand gripped his briefcase.

      The sweeping ceased at the sound of the bell above the door. The young man stood by the counter and watched as the man walked through the aisles, pausing to smile and handle random cans with a laugh. His finger swiped a shelf and he inspected the dust with a disappointed face. He wore an all black suit. A blood red kerchief was tied around his neck and his hat tipped on his head just enough to look sinister.

     “Go get your grandpa, kid,” he commanded and leaned an elbow on the shop counter while waiting, nodding once to the customer across the way.

     The boy dropped the broom and scrambled to the backroom to retrieve the old man. His slumped frame, followed closely by his grandson, walked slowly to the other side of the counter.

     “You don’t mind, right?” the man in black spoke it as more of a statement than a question. He reached over to a jar of suckers, unwrapping one and popping it in his mouth while flicking the wrapper onto the floor. “I’m very worried. I don’t see any money in your hands, and I gave you very clear instructions,” he explained.

     The old man’s face remained calm, but his grandson’s fists were balled at his sides. For a moment all three stood there staring at one another with only the faint but familiar jazz tune from the radio filling the space.

     “We are under the protection of Don V, we won’t be giving you any money,” the old man was stern, but he took an anxious breath to calm his nerves.

     The man in black pulled the candy from his mouth and let out a comical laugh for a moment, then his face became quite serious.

     “You’re making a big mistake, pops,” he pointed the sucker in the old mans face.

     “Hey! You can’t threaten my gran-“ the boy started, but the old man placed a hand on the boys shoulder to stop him from talking.

     “Whoah, whoah! Hey, it’s okay, kid…pops,” he nodded to them both, “I won’t be coming back. I get the message.”

     The man reached over to pinch and smack the boys cheek, then with a smirk he straightened the old mans collar and brushed off his apron before patting him on the chest.

     He tilted his hat to the customer before leaving. The man, after nodding back, set the briefcase on the shelf, making sure to click the lock before walking out empty-handed and entering the backseat of a black car that had been waiting for him.

     “What a fool,” the blonde woman driving said when she heard him close the door of the car.

     “Eh, place was a dump anyway,” the man in black said from the passengers seat with a sigh, “we’d never get any dough from that joint,” he sat back in the seat and lowered the hat over his eyes.

     “That’s not the point, Saeran,” she snapped, smacking the hat from his head before hitting the gas.

     “Hey, watch it,” he groaned and picked his hat back up, “I hate this city.”

     “Well, get over it. We’ll be running it, soon,” she replied.

     The man in the back turned to look out of the window as they drove away.

     “Should be any moment now,” he spoke, but neither of them in the front payed any mind to what he was saying.

     The explosion in the distance paired with the sound of shattering glass and rubble elicited screams from the people on the streets. They watched women, children, and men as they began to run in hopes of seeing what had happened.

     “Look at them, flocking like vultures to see the carnage,” Saeran hissed in disgust.

     “Let them look. I want them to see what happens when they don’t pay up,” she laughed.

     “Yeah, yeah. Can we stop somewhere? I’m fuckin’ starving, here,” he replied.

      “Christ,” Saeyoung’s face hardened as he heard the news.

     “Frank is waiting at the scene,” one of the soldiers explained before being waved off.

     He had been overseeing Jaehee’s team as they unloaded another shipment of bootleg into a warehouse. He leaned back on the car and pinched the bridge of his nose in silent thought and frustration.

     “Lucky, Kitty!” he called out, sounding harsher than intended.

     “Yes, boss?” Yoosung approached, winded but smiling, with you right beside him.

     “Frank’s waiting down by first street. Don’t ask questions, just go meet him. Report back to me right after, got that?” he ruffled Yoosung’s cap.

     “Got it!” he took off.

     You began to follow but Saeyoung tugged at your arm and pulled you back, causing you to stumble a bit on the pavement.

     “Lucky’s lucky, but, keep your eyes open…you’ll understand why when you get there. Be careful,” he warned.

     “I’m always careful,” you insisted.

     “Attagirl,” he let go, flashing a bit of a smile as you walked away.

     Yoosung had waited for you to catch up, and as you walked you wondered who Frank could be. And what was going on. You were both oddly quiet. Normally, you couldn’t get Yoosung to shut up. He still had that smile on his face, but the whole way there he only spoke to point out puddles, so you wouldn’t step in them.

     From far away, the damage seemed extensive. It only got worse as you approached, and anyone could see it was the work of a bomb. Aside from a few kids out to take a look at the wreckage, there weren’t many people in sight. Most had probably shut themselves at home in fear, you guessed.

     Down a nearby alley you saw the figure of a man in uniform waiting. His face became familiar the closer you got. His large belly, bulbous nose and reddish stubble on his face more apparent with the closing distance. You paused, your heart racing and your palms sweating. Frank…

     “Don’t worry! He’s on our payroll. That’s Lieutenant Frank,” Yoosung said when he noticed your hesitancy.

     You knew very well who it was. But did he know you? Would he recognize your face? You had always thought this son of a bitch was crooked. Damn, who else from the force would you come in contact with…this was way deeper than you had anticipated. You couldn’t wait to expose him for the scum he was.

     “Lucky! My boy, how’s the family?” he asked in a chipper tone.

     “Mom’s doing a little better. She actually got out of bed yesterday, started pointing out all the things that needed cleaning,” Yoosung smiled.

     “I bet your old man loved that,” he laughed, “glad to hear it. And…you seem familiar? When did we meet? I can’t quite remember your name,” his eyes narrowed in on you.

     “I’m going to go ask around, see if anyone saw anything,” you said through a lump in your throat before running off.

      You were careful of the glass that littered the street. It looked like they hadn’t been able to clean everything up yet. You kicked a few pieces of brick and wood shards, your heart sinking as you peeked into the empty space to survey the damage. It was littered with burned and exploded cans, a remnant of a broom close to your feet.

     “Hey, you,” you grabbed a young boy by the collar as he came running passed you, “did you see what happened here?”

     “Well, there was a car and-“

     “Louie!” a window flew open a few stories up on an adjacent building and cut him off, “come home, now!” she waved her rag in anger at him as she scolded.

      The boy ran home without another word and Yoosung appeared only a moment later, his face was white and his smile non-existent. For a moment you held your breath, waiting for him to say something. Say that he knew all about you, that he was going to tell the Mad Hatter.

     “What is it, Yoosung?” you tried to hide the quiver in your tone, “what did he say?”

     “He said they don’t know much about what happened. Everyone around here is too scared to talk. And…” he trailed off.

     “And what?” you pressed him.

     “Well. He doesn’t know who the guy is, but he says he is pretty sure. It’s really hushed over there and he is trying to find out more. He says…someone from the police force has worked their way into the family. He says we have a rat.”

So I have a little idea for elsewhere university (forgive the pov switching)
Somewhere in the library, there is a legendary book. If you are in the greatest emotional distress you will ever feel in your time at the university (How the book Knows isn’t certain but then again nothing ever really is), you will find yourself slouching into the library and looking along the shelves. Not searching for anything in particular, just something good to read.
You pick one, not to thin and not too thick, off of the dusty shelf. The jacket feels slightly soft, like the nose of a stuffed animal once most of the velveteen is rubbed off.
You sit down right there in the middle of the aisle, lean your back against a cart, and begin to read. As soon as your finger touches the title page, you feel all of the anxiety pulling out like the tide, a wave of calm rushing over you as you begin to read.
Hours go by. People move around you, not even noticing you’re there. Any classes you missed were cancelled that day.
Some time later, you’re at the final page. You know that soon you will have to go back to the real world now, and that your break is over.
Resigned, you take a deep breath and put the book back on the shelf. You know you will miss it, but there’s nothing you can do, and you’ve heard too many stories of those who would try and abuse the magic here.
With a sudden pop, you can hear movement again. You hadn’t even noticed the students walking by you, or the whispering in the next row. You shake your head, fondly caressing the cover one last time.
You walk out of the library with a much lighter heart than when you came in, ready to face whatever drove you here in the first place.
No student has ever found the book twice, and it’s constantly changing place.
What the contents are varies wildly from person to person; from favorite childhood storybooks to long lost books (forgotten underneath a chair or on a picnic table somewhere on campus) to family photo albums that may have never even existed in the first place.
It’s rumored that during one of the many book-burning eras that the university has lived through, one of the librarians enchanted the book to promote reading, but no one is really sure.
All they know is that it’s nice to have a word of hope in the darkness.

Permanent Ink // Soulmate AU

Prompt: The things your soulmate loves show up on your skin.
Overview: What Newt loves most in the world are his magical creatures…Which is rather confusing for his soulmate, a Muggle with no knowledge of magic.

⇢ A Newt Scamander x Muggle!Reader Soulmate AU.

The first time Y/N noticed a marking on her arm, she could not, for the life of her, understand what it was.

Not that it was difficult to discern, but rather she had never seen anything quite like it. With the head of an eagle and the rear of horse, it reminded Y/N of a hybrid cross between a Griffin and a centaur.

She thought that, maybe, her soulmate had a strange affinity toward mythology.

Not long after, a new tattoo appeared. In ways, it was stranger than the first. Its outline was in the shape of a fungus, with sharp bristles surrounding the outer stem. Y/N studied the mark the very moment she spotted it before pursing her lips and turning back to her book.

At seven years old, Y/N supposed she had better things to do than mull over the strange penchants of her soulmate.

She would worry about them another time.

Newt Scamander was fourteen when he first fell in love.

As outlines of books, ink, and artwork filled his inner forearm, he grew more and more excited to meet his soulmate. Newt thought he would finally find someone who understood him and appreciated his unwonted passions.

But too soon, he found that camaraderie with someone else.

Too soon, he found Leta Lestrange.

She was everything Newt thought his soulmate would be. Leta was passionate, driven, and, most importantly, she shared his love of magical creatures.

Every thought he had of Leta was followed by a feeling of shame; his heart ached, imagining the betrayal his soulmate must’ve experienced. But as Newt traced the tattoos on his arm, then stared back at the girl in front of him as she declaimed the cruelties Hippogriffs had to face, he knew what he felt was nothing less than love.

And sometimes, people just can’t help who they fall in love with. Even if it’s with the wrong person.

Y/N was fourteen when she saw the outline of another woman’s face etched permanently onto her skin.

She bit her lip, hoping that maybe it was her soulmate’s relative. But even she knew that wasn’t how the markings worked. And no amount of wishing could change that.

Now, almost fifteen years later, every day was a painful reminder of what should’ve been, but never was. As often as she could, Y/N wore long sleeves to keep herself from staring at the marks of betrayal on her arm. Still, her mind wandered.

Together or not, her soulmate was still out there and she wanted them to be happy. No matter what.

If anything, Y/N decided that she at least had her books. And as she ran her fingers across the dusty spines on the shelf, she realized she was content.

Until a fluffy, rodent-like animal scurried across the floor, brushing against her ankles.

Keep reading


Write-A-Thon: Day 1 (AU Day)

Pairing: John Laurens x Alexander Hamilton

[ 80s bookstore AU // John is an art hoe who thinks the shop is good inspiration and Alexander is the cashier who won’t let anyone in if they don’t buy a book ]

Warnings: swearing

Words: 1772

A/N: I’m gay for this,, its not got much in the way of an actual plot line but its cute and they’re awkward and i loved writing it, also my computer autocorrected flames to lams at one point so basically i hate myself

Perhaps sitting behind the counter of a run down bookstore wasn’t how one would typically find love. Alexander Hamilton certainly never presumed that it would be the case for him. He’d grown content with the idea of hiding safely within the walls of the store, allowing the world to pass him by, a flurry of excitement just out of reach.

Alexander worked at the bookstore, the one tucked away on the corner of the lane. Everyone in town knew the one. Small: one room, and cluttered from wall to wall with shelves upon shelves of aged books.

And the smell: old candles, cigarette smoke, and a century old family dinner. It was unmistakable, the rotting floorboards and the yellowing walls. But despite the run down appearance, the shop gave off a distinct aura of homeliness.

It was the sort of place which seemed to draw out a smile from almost anyone, even Alexander. The store brought out the best in him, as much as he denied it.

Bells jingling, the heavy wooden door swung open, causing clouds of dust to form in the air before dissipating right before Alexander’s eyes. With it, came the curly haired boy, fatigue evident in his darkened eyes, a sketchbook clutched tightly in his left hand.

The smirk melted off of Alexander’s face as he found himself face to face with the boy. “If you don’t plan on buying anything,” he snarled, narrowing his eyes menacingly, “you can fuck right off.”

Smile worn across his lips, the boy simply shrugged off Alexander’s words. “And what makes you think I’m not buying anything?” he challenged, pulling himself away from the door, moving with a new life, as if his spirit had ignited a fire inside his chest: ever burning and forever ardent flames.

“You think I don’t recognize you?” Alexander remained firm and insistent, arms crossed over his chest, even as the boy picked a book up off the shelf. “I’m not stupid.”

“Really?” Eyebrows raised, a smirk dancing across his face, the boy seemed to be mocking Alexander.

“You’re that artist,” Alexander continued, spurring up the softest laughter, as though the idea of this boy being an artist was ridiculous. “You’re always here, and you never buy anything. So you can get out.”

“What does it matter to you if I’m here?” He pressed on with such insistence, yet with only the slightest bit of confidence to back that up.

“What does it matter to you?” Alexander replied quickly, repeating the boy’s words as so to spare him the energy of thinking up a witty comeback. “All you do is draw,” he continued. “You don’t even read anything.”

The boy gave way to a shrug, daring to hold Alexander’s gaze for a few moments more as the air seemed to decay around them, leaving them as nothing but mere statues in the dust where there had once been a bookstore and two boys whose worlds had just begun to fold into each other’s.

“I’m John Laurens,” the boy offered up, looking up at Alexander expectantly: the Laurens family was well known for being the most wealthy in their pathetic little town. John clearly seemed to think that because of his last name, he was entitled to whatever he wanted.

“I see what you’re doing.” Alexander narrowed his eyes, glaring pointedly at John. “You think you can just hide behind that name and I’ll give you what you want.”

John’s cheeks flushed red and he drew his gaze to the dusty floor. He nervously brushed a hand back through his hair, pushing billowing chestnut curls away from his face.

“It won’t work,” Alexander continued. “See, I only care about your money if you’re using it to buy a book, which you’re very obviously not. So give me a reason to let you stay before I kick you out.”

“It’s good inspiration- the store,” he explained, gesturing at the walls around them. “It’s so full of history, so colorful-”

Alexander let his gaze sweep throughout the store. “I can’t see any color besides brown, so unless there’s something I’m missing, you’re full of shit.”

On the surface, it seemed as though Alexander was right. Dusty brown floorboards, walls, even the book covers seemed to be tinted brown in the flickering lighting.

“Not the visible colors.” John continued, voice dripping with the utmost assurance that Alexander wasn’t stupid: from the almost bored tone in his voice, he reckoned that this was a conversation he’d had many times. “Like… there’s this… this aura.” He searched helplessly for some sort of understanding in Alexander’s eyes, but was met with no reassurance whatsoever. “The sound of the fan-” he waved his hand towards the fan that sat in the distant corner of the shop- “the sound it makes, that’s green, a deep forest green. And the smell of the shop, that’s this soft yellow shade, like a sunflower. And the walls-”

“I get it.” Alexander cut John off, despite not understanding what he meant in the slightest, but he didn’t have any interest in listening to him ramble on indefinitely. “But seriously, this is a book store. Not an art studio.”

Drawing out a sigh, John held a book up for Alexander to see. Ironweed by William Kennedy. “And if I buy a book, will you let me stay here?”

“Ironweed?” Alexander struggled to hide a smile. He fell back against the back of his swivel chair and crossed his arms over his chest. “I suppose I’d let you stay, but Ironweed isn’t the place to start, in my opinion.”

John arched his eyebrows in response.

“It’s part of a series, see.” Alexander pushed himself up off his chair and wove his way through the maze of bookshelves. “The Albany Cycle.”

Finally finding what he was looking for, Alexander plucked the book off the dusty shelf and held it out to John. “This is the one you’re looking for.”

“Legs?” He read off the cover, a note of disbelief in his voice. “What the fuck kind of name for a book is that?”

Alexander cracked a smile, staring down at him through dark eyes. “It’s the name of a character,” he explained. “Which you would know,” he added, “if you’d bother to read the back of the book.”

Eyes narrowed in defiance, John flipped the blood red book over in his hands and began to read aloud. “‘Legs, the inaugural book in William Kennedy’s acclaimed Albany cycle of novels, brilliantly evokes the flamboyant career of gangster Jack ‘Legs’ Diamond.”

Alexander clapped his hands in mock pride. “You can read!” he exclaimed. “And here I thought you’d never picked up a book in your life.”

He continued to scan the back of the book. “It takes place in the 20s?” He sounded shocked, perhaps even the slightest bit disgusted by the notion.

“And the 30s,” Alexander supplied, almost mechanically, continuing to stare John down from behind gold rimmed glasses.

“It’s 1983,” he pointed out, causing him to receive an overly dramatic eye roll from Alexander in response.

“So?” Alexander challenged, growing defensive despite having never read the book. “The 20s were much better than now, in my opinion.”

“Well, your opinion doesn’t matter much, as you’re not the one buying the book.”

Alexander gave way to the softest laugh. “I don’t think you’re buying the book either.”

He slammed the book on the counter with quite a bit more force than Alexander reckoned was necessary. “How much?”

“3.99,” Alexander supplied without having to think. The prices were almost ingrained in his head after over a year of working at the store.

John dug a crumpled dollar out of his pocket and tossed it onto the counter beside the book. He held Alexander’s gaze for a few moments, seemingly daring him to accept the partial payment.

“Fuck, fine.” John folded his arms over his chest, somewhat disheartened.

“You’re rich.” Alexander didn’t bother trying to hide the incredulous tone in his voice. “What does 3.99 matter?”

John dug around in his pockets for the rest of the money. “Shit,” he mumbled as a handful of coins slipped from his fingers and rolled in every direction across the floor. He set his sketchbook on the counter and knelt to the floor, chasing the dozens of coins.

Alexander took advantage of the opportunity to flip through the pages of John’s sketchbook. He couldn’t deny that the art was incredible: graceful lines merging with perfectly selected colors, but even so, he couldn’t help but laugh.

“Turtles?” he asked incredulously, flipping through the pages. That was the last thing Alexander had been expecting to find in the notebook, and there were hundreds of them. Every page contained a new turtle, some with even two or three.

John emerged from the other side of the counter, cheeks burning red. “I like them,” he admitted defensively, setting the remainder of the money in front of Alexander.

Giving way to a light chuckle, Alexander stuffed the money into the cash register and slid the book across the counter to John. “They’re quite nice, actually.” Alexander gestured down to John’s sketchbook. “I wish I could draw like that.”

“It’s just a matter of practice.” The corners of John’s lips crept into a genuine smile.

“Yeah, well…” Alexander trailed off, unsure of what he was supposed to say. “I used to want to be an artist. Then I realized I was pretty shit at it.”

John raised his eyebrows as though he couldn’t quite believe what he was hearing. “You? An artist? I wouldn’t have guessed… you don’t seem the type.”

Alexander shrugged, letting a small storm of silence overtake them. It crept in from the darkest corners of the room, slowly blanketing the whole shop in a world of quiet. “Well, look at you here, buying a book. I wouldn’t have pegged you as the type for that either.” He smiled as though that cleared everything up. “I suppose we’re all full of surprises, aren’t we?”

John’s cheeks flushed an obnoxious shade of pink. “You know I’ve got no intention of reading it.”

“I know,” Alexander assured him, slipping the book into a brown paper bag and handing it over to John. “But maybe you’ll surprise yourself as well as me.”

John smiled. “Maybe I will.”

He took the bag and tucked it inside his coat, making a mental note to try and get through at least a few pages in the book. If not for himself, then for the hopeful cashier who had laid the world out for John in a language that he didn’t quite comprehend, but at the very least, he would try to learn.

Neville was fairly certain that he was into blokes. It had occured to him that he wasn’t even remotely interested in the conversations the lads in the dorm had about boobs. He hadn’t given the matter much thought, until… Well… Neville knew for a fact that he was gay after he accidentally walked in on Harry en Draco snogging on Harry’s bed. Draco had given him an irritated scowl and told him to fuck off. Neville didn’t have to be told twice. Merlin. Those two couldn’t keep their hands off each other. He had blushed furiously and fled from the room, only to realize how much he wished a boy would snog HIM with that much enthusiasm. But he was Neville Longbottom, awkward and obnoxious. Even though he destroyed a Horcrux in the Battle of Hogwarts, his eighth year hadn’t exactly been filled with people just waiting to feel him up against a wall. No one fit would even spare him a second glance. He sighed miserably as he slumped into a chair in the common room and recalled the morning’s Herbology lesson. Blaise. All Neville could think about lately was Blaise Zabini. His long, slender fingers curling gracefully around the equipment. His brows furrowing in concentration as he elegantly scribbled down notes. His demeanour calm and collected. His lips puffy as he absentmindedly runs his tongue across them. Neville caught himself staring at Zabini’s back as he bent over the workbench - the way his muscles stretched and contracted beneath his taut shirt. Of course Neville would find the most unobtainable bloke in their year attractive. He spent his days picturing Zabini pushing him into the pillows like Harry did with Draco. He needed to get to know the Slytherin. Blaise was dark and mysterious, an enigma. Neville had this inexplicable urge to get him to open up. The only problem was, he had never actually spoken to Blaise. But he was a Gryffindor afterall. If he could kill a piece of Voldemort’s soul, he could certainly muster up the courage to start a conversation with Blaise Zabini. The following day, Neville made sure he sat next to Blaise in their morning Herbology session. His palms were sweating and he nervously wiped them against his pants. “Morning,” he said as he slid into the chair next to Blaise. He intented it to sound like a drawl, but instead it came out high-pitched and squeaky. He cringed and felt his cheeks heat up considerably. Blaise eyed him through impossibly long eyelashes, an amused expression on his face. God. Was Neville actually amusing Blaise Zabini? He twitched uncomfortably, biting into the inside of his cheek. He had to say something that would get Zabini to talk, as he was currently regarding Neville like some sort of foreign plant. Neville cleared his throat and scratched the back of his head. “So,” he began, but was cut off by Professor Sprout entering the classroom and shushing them. Neville sighed inwardly. Blaise was still looking at him and he found it impossible to sit still. He felt his eyes on him throughout the entire lesson. After what felt like ages, the period ended. Neville tried to gather his things as quickly as possible, desperately needing to escape Blaise’s thoughtful stare. Of fucking course, he managed to bump the table with his elbow and sent half of his equipment flying to the floor. “Shit,” he muttered and hurriedly bent down to pick his things up. With a start, he realized that he had spilled ink all over his assignment papers. He groaned and said, “Double shit.” Suddenly, he heard a throaty chuckle above him. He glanced up shyly to find Blaise grinning down at him, extending a hand. Neville nearly fell over as he reached for Zabini’s chocolate-coloured skin. Merlin. Blaise had the most beautiful skin. Neville wanted to kiss everyone inch of it. The thought made him blush even more. “Quite the predicament you’re in, Longbottom,” Zabini drawled, raising his eyebrows. He was obviously referring to Nevile’s ruined parchment. “Um,” Neville began. Blaise interrupted him, “You can copy mine if you’d like. Meet me outside the library after classes are finished.” He stuffed his hands in his pockets and swaggered out of the classroom. Neville felt euphoric. He was going to spend time with Blaise! Alone! And Blaise had asked him! Bloody hell. Was this actually happening? Smiling like an absolute idiot, Neville rushed after Blaise. “Thanks,” he said, surprised at how even his voice came out. Blaise shrugged before turning away and walking towards the castle. Neville felt like dancing.


Blaise was already waiting outside the library when Neville came running around the corner, robes flying everywhere. He had rushed to his dorm after his last class in a desperate attempt to freshen up a bit. When he reached the portrait of the Fat Lady, he couldn’t, for the life of him, remember to password. So he was late and still grimy from the day’s classes. Fucking brilliant. Blaise was luckily still in his robes too. He leaned casually against the stone wall, books tucked under his arm. His head was thrown back and Neville watched his Adam’s apple bob up and down, fascinated. “Zabini,” he greeted him with a nod. “Longbottom. Shall we?” Blaise replied. Without waiting for an answer, he started in the direction of the double doors. Neville followed suit, careful not to drop anything again. They got a table in the far back corner. Neville had never been so anxious in his life. What were they going to talk about? Blaise was so quiet and Neville was so awkward. This was bound to be a disaster. Neville adjusted his tie and swallowed hard, before sitting down across from Blaise. Blaise had his arms folded across his chest and his impossibly long legs spread out before him. He raised a bored eyebrow as Neville scrambled into his seat. “So, um, the assignment,” Neville muttered, unable to meet Zabini’s piercing eyes. A long silence stretched between them. He suddenly felt claustrophobic. This was a horrible idea. Then, “Why don’t we just enjoy each other’s company for a while?” When the reply finally came, Neville was just about to leave. He gazed up, perturbed, to find Zabini’s dark eyes staring right into his soul. Merlin. He had beautiful eyes. “Sure,” Neville said, a little too enthusiastically. “So, what do you plan on doing after this year’s finished?” he asked, trying to sound nonchalant but failing miserably. Blaise smiled, a faint smile, but at least it was something. “A job at the Ministry perhaps. I’m not sure,” he said softly. “What about you, Longbottom?” “Oh, I plan to teach here at Hogwarts! Yeah, definitely! I’m thinking of Herbology,” Neville said, beaming. Blaise smirked. “Professor Longbottom. Interesting.” Neville was squirming under his intense gaze. He wanted to impress the quiet, thoughtful boy sitting across from him so, so badly.

Their meeting in the library went fairly well. Of course, Neville did most of the talking, but at least it seemed like Blaise was listening. Neville felt comfortable in Blaise’s presence after awhile. They sat there, talking quietly, for about three hours, the assignment forgotten. It started with small talk, but eventually drifted to more serious topics, like the war. Blaise didn’t have much to say about the subject, but Neville knew that he felt the same way. Things had been frightening, sickening. Nightmares often kept them awake. Neville fully intended to schedule another meeting with Blaise, if only to have his dark eyes boring into him again. The following morning, he approached Blaise with less caution. “Zabini,” he chirped. They exchanged pleasantries throughout the lesson, discussing some of the plants’ properties. Blaise even laughed, he fucking laughed, when Neville made a daring dirty remark about of the plants. And, Merlin, it was the most beautiful sound Neville had ever heard. He was absolutely infatuated with Blaise Zabini. After the lesson, Neville gathered up his courage and asked Blaise if he cared for another study session. Blaise regarded him in that thoughtful manner that made Neville’s skin crawl and agreed. Neville attented to rest of his classes smiling like a doofus.

Neville had grown extremely comfortable and relaxed around Blaise. They had been meeting every day in the library for about a month now. Neville felt like they were slowly developing into friends. It was more than he had bargained for. The more time he spent with Blaise, the more he thought himself thinking of kissing him. Neville knew Blaise was gay; he had told him the previous week. Well, it sort of slipped out and it wasn’t exactly what he said, but Neville could read between the lines. He didn’t think Blaise was seeing anyone. He just didn’t want to ruin what they had formed over the time they’ve spent together. Neville didn’t have to worry, though. It was Friday night and the library was empty except for Madam Pince. Blaise sat across from him. They were in their usual spot in the back of the library, hidden by a dusty shelf. “I hate Potions,” Neville groaned, rolling his eyes. “I’ll never be any good at it. Bloody hell.” He was looking at the scroll of parchment in front of him, but he knew Blaise was watching him. “You’re good at a lot of other things,” he heard him reply, softly. It was almost a whisper. Neville’s head snapped up. He could feel a blush creeping up his neck. Blaise’s hand reached across the table suddenly and Neville gulped nervously. Should he take it? God. Does Blaise want him to take it? Is he just stretching? Shit. Merlin. Fuck it, Neville finally decided. He reached across the table and took Blaise’s hand in his own. His hand was surprisingly warm. Neville thought it would be cold, like Blaise, for some reason. But it was velvety soft against his fingers. He traced slow circles with his thumb in Blaise’s palm. “Let’s get out of here, yeah?” Blaise breathed. If everything wasn’t so quiet in the library, Neville wouldn’t have been able to hear him. They barely made it to an alcove before Blaise smashed him against a wall and pushed their bodies together. Neville gasped. He had never felt so hot in his entire life. “I’ve wanted to do this since the year started,” Blaise chuckled against his lips, before attacking them with his own. Neville smiled against him.

Unedited. For @drarrytown

Forgive Me - Part 3

Summery: The reader goes back home

Triggers: angstyness

Word Count: 2000+

A/N: sorry its been so long since I last posted. I have 3 exams and 1 essay due this week so I might be late with the next part too. Sorry. (*not my gif)

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“Forgive Me” Masterlist | Masterlist

Originally posted by fymarveluniverse

Maria and her team took you to a large ship. It was all black and metal and cold. Seats lined the walls shoulder to shoulder and they all had their own belts, fastening you to the side. Honestly, you were terrified of who these people really were. It was full of soldiers patching each other up with small medical kits, other hostages dressed in clothes like yours, and a few body bags that seemed to have something in them. You could only assume.

One moment everyone was rushing around. The next, calmness had settled in. You felt the force on your body as the vehicle was lifted into the air and propelled forwards. It was then you decided to find someone to speak to.

‘Excuse me?’ You moved the free section of your body forward. A young woman turned her head to look at you. It was the woman from before. Maria. ‘What has happened since they took us?’ She moved to sit in the empty seat next to yours.

Keep reading

kim’s emporium of the strange (witch!taehyung au)

summary: you’ve always been curious about that little shop in town that only ever opened during Halloween, and one day, something in you possesses you to check it out. your curiosity lands you in a cauldron of hot water with a cute witch named kim taehyung and a lot more problems than you started out with

relationship: taehyung x reader

words: 5,695

warnings: fluff out of the wazoo, witches witching it up, yoongi is a tempermental cat (literally)

a/n: this beautiful moodboard for this fic was made by @shinybts !!

“Welcome to Kim’s Emporium of the Strange! How may I charm your life today?”

Keep reading

The most frightening realisation is that you can lose yourself,
Like forgotten objects abandoned on a dusty shelf,

It’s true, little pieces of me got lost after the move,
It was a rocky road ahead and by no means smooth,

Then when we came it was a new environment; new area,
After what I used to live in, how was this scarier?!

My old block held many clear dangers,
But this new place - oh this was so much stranger,

So much happened and the isolation was crippling,
Day by day - not just a one time thing,

No matter where you go, eyes are always upon you,
Judging and silent, always seeing right through,

Many tales took place,
Reoccurring nightmares of a man with a broken face,

One dark night, I remember going outside,
I stopped and froze - looking for a place to hide,

I felt a sinister presence upon me - I feel it now is I recollect,
A terrifying shiver upon my spine as I begin to reflect,

I felt fear and fright, I wasn’t alone,
How could I fight what never made itself shown?

Something was out there and it was no angelic being,
It was something in the night, watching me; seeing,

I’m frightened now, I’m tingling all over,
I feel the urge to run out the house and drive off in the Rover,

My eyes are watering and twitching in fear,
Please God, do not let any creatures draw near,

My vision’s blurry and its hard to write,
My heart is racing and my breaths are tight,

Every sound, every little creek,
I hear it all - it’s like the house speaks,

Though the night was dark, too dark,
That horrific memory has left its mark,

I’ve gone off trail once again,
My mind wanders of a time back then,

Now we come to a close,
Before each feeling hurriedly overflows


When I look back on Glee in 20 years, it will be the best time of my life for sure. The hardest– the first and second seasons were some of the hardest years of my entire life. And, I’m gonna look back on it with such reverence. I mean, such a… it’s the most marked thing about my life now. To the entire world, it’s what people know me as. It’s kind of like ‘To a dusty shelf, we aspire’, y'know? And this is a pretty cool way to be remembered.

The old acoustic guitar sat alone in the storefront window until the shop went out of business. It was sold to another music store at a discount, which hurt the guitar’s feelings. The guitar sat for years and years, collecting dust on a top shelf surrounded by the fancy electric Stratocasters and Fenders, which sold daily. One afternoon a young boy and his mother walked into the store, looking for a beginner’s instrument for his music class at school. The boy looked at the trumpets, but thought they were dorky. He tried a flute, but couldn’t get it to make a sound. He tested the keyboard, but thought it was too many keys. What caught his eye was the old soul on the dusty top shelf. He told his mom that he wanted the wooden guitar with the missing string, and that he’d tune it up and take care of it. His mom bought him the guitar, and the boy played it everyday.

Fic: Thieves’ Tools [Vex, Vax | 7700 words]

(no spoilers; set pre-series)

[AO3 | FFN | More Fic]

Two weeks after they found the ruins of their hometown, when the mire of misery had finally been pushed back by all the practical concerns that came with no reliable source of income, Vex sat down across from her brother, slammed a flawless turquoise gemstone onto the table, and said, “I’d like to hire us for a bit of thievery.”

Thieves’ Tools

Vax stared at her; the artful hollows of his cheeks and bruised darkness beneath his eyes did little to mask his baffled expression. “You’d like to what?”

Vex tapped one quick-bitten nail against the top of the gem, then thought better of it when someone from the next table glanced over. Perfect prop though it was, she let the hunk of turquoise disappear into its usual home in the pouch at her side. “I’d like to hire us to steal something. Wake up, brother. I’ve got us a job.”

In response, Vax made a sound somewhere along the lines of a constipated night-owl and took a long swig of ale from his mug. Vex watched him, waiting patiently, then kicked him under the table when he took a bit too long. He sputtered, swiping at his face with one threadbare sleeve. “Ow. Don’t make me spill, it’s not like we can afford another.”

Unless she was very much mistaken, that was a glint of real annoyance in his voice. Good. “A job, Vax.”

“I heard you the first time. But you giving yourself money isn’t generally how this works.”

“The gem, Vax. I’ll sell the gem.”

It took him a moment. She watched his mind’s clockwork, rusted from a fortnight of inactivity, slowly grind back into motion. His brow furrowed, and she knew she’d finally got his attention when his fingers started tapping nervously against the table’s edge. “You’ve had that gem for ages. You wouldn’t even sell it when Trinket started eating us out of house and home, before he learned to forage for himself.”

Vex was positively itching to pull the turquoise back out of her pouch, but there was no sense drawing unwanted attention. “I said I was saving it up for something important. This is it. I’d like to hire us.”

Scratching at his shoulder, Vax stared up at the ceiling for a moment before looking back to her. His fingers took up their tapping again. “To do what, exactly?”

“To steal.”

He sighed. “To steal what, exactly?”

“Well, that’s part of it.” She leaned across the table, lowered her voice theatrically; in spite of himself, he leaned closer to hear. “I’m paying for secrecy. I can tell you where, and I can tell you when, and I think I can even tell you what to expect in terms of security, though of course I bow to your expertise when it comes to drawing secrets from the seedy underbelly of society.”

His lips twitched. “The seedy underbelly of society?”

“Why not? You’re certainly looking seedy, anyway. When’s the last time you bathed?”

“I’m not the one who spends all her time living with a bear in the woods.” He shifted back in his seat, somehow dodging her next under-table kick. “Listen, Vex'ahlia, I appreciate the thought, but you don’t have to invent an adventure to get me out of wallowing.”

“Ooh. Look who thinks so highly of himself. Believe it or not, brother, this has nothing to do with you. If you won’t take the job, I’ll find someone who will.” And damn it, how much longer would her voice take on that telltale quaver every time she raised it?

Vax curled back a little, rubbing his brow. “You’re serious. Is it dangerous?”

She jutted out her chin, waited until he was looking her in the eyes. “Probably.”

“And you’re going to do it with or without me?”


Keep reading

My Heart Is Misunderstood And Really Just Needs A Hug

I do not follow my heart;
it drags me around

I am forced to listen to my heart;
due to its choice of sound;
a sound that drowns
any alarm that tells me that
I shouldn’t
follow my heart

It decides when to fall in love
and when to fall apart,
it decides who to stupidly shove,
and when to be smart

It cries whenever it sees fit,
it rages whenever it feels like it,
it sometimes, often even, bursts with joy, but never to admit,
because it doesn’t want you to think, that it gives a shit

It has concrete walls protecting its soft skin,
built with the intention of never letting one single soul in,
wisely excluding any chance of getting hurt again,
but also unintentionally excluding the love of a potential friend

It’s a bitch indeed, it only cares about itself
and if you dare to try doing any harm,
it will without doubt put you on a dusty shelf,
to be easily forgotten,
and it’ll do so with a smile of charm

It has an icy stare and is cold to the touch,
it could probably get away with murder and such,
but this seed of hatred and sorrow only grew,
because it once or twice cared too much.

So apparently my theme for today is to just think about Dean scamming his friends and Cas just whatever about it.

Any who,

Don’t think about Dean making another bet with another friend when they spot Cas in the campus’ cafeteria getting some tea. And Dean is just, “check this, I bet you 50 bucks that I can get Novak’s study guide notes and you know, his number and an ass grab.” And the friend just bursts out laughing like, “Dean, do you think I’m an idiot? Novak doesn’t lust after anyone who isn’t a 1,200 word book on a dusty shelf in the library.”

And Dean holds out his hand like, “Then you have nothing to worry about.”

So like before, the friend takes the bet and grabs a table to watch Dean’s downfall and epic demise of being crushed by the infamous Castiel Novak who turns down everyone’s advances.

Dean, being the sly fox that he is, just goes up to Cas by the counter where he’s waiting for his tea and leans close to his ear and whispers, “okay, okay, I know I said I’d stop with the bets when my friends figured out we’re dating but my friends are dense like me so babe, there are still a few who haven’t caught on.”

And Cas just sighs and goes, “you’re an awful friend.”

Then Dean just smiles and steps into Cas’ space and puts his hands on his hips and goes, “but you like me and quite frankly that’s all that really matters.” Then Cas wraps his arms around Dean’s neck and Dean kisses him and his hands slip down and just GRABS THE BOOTY and the friend is choking on air because WHAT?!

AND Dean just smiles and goes, “I was wondering, you mind if I borrow your biology notes for our test next week?”

And Cas shakes his head like, “no, I don’t mind. You’re not going to use them anyway. You’re better at biology than I am. So I’m assuming this is apart of your hustle?”

And Dean just grins and pulls away some before kissing Cas’ cheek. “Yeah.”

“Hustle on then.” And he just gives him the notebook and kisses him on this jaw before grabbing his tea.

And Dean grinning at Cas like, “I found me the one who respects the hustle.” And it doesn’t get any better than that for Dean.

anonymous asked:

I watched FTF like you said but this time while drinking whiskey. And do my dream was about DD and GA doing that outtake kiss in the hallway and that they did make a second tape like GA suggested happened between Mulder and Scully. And how they kept the only copy for themselves.

Oh god! You know, somewhere, on a dusty shelf, in a dark cave, there are dozens of those outakes waiting for someone to release them. And I refuse to die until I’ve seen them all. Life Goal.

Room Of Requirements - Fred Weasley Imagine



Hi there! I absolutely love your imagines!! Could you maybe write one where you and Fred sneak out of a lesson and explore the castle finding strange rooms or whatever thank you 💗💗


“Fred can you please stop it!” I whispered/yelled at him “I’m trying to pay attention!” He did sad eyes “Binn’s is so boring! ” I glared at him “What do you expect me to do about it?” he smiled “let’s sneak out!” “No Freddie that’s breaking the rules” “Come on please!” He said kissing my neck “Fine!”. We sneaked out easily due to Professor Binns yelling at another student. “Where do you want to go beautiful!” He said hugging me from behind “I don’t know? I want somewhere we can hide from the teachers especially Umbridge and hang out there all day along” “Whoa! ” I turned around to see Fred standing in front of giant wood doors.

“What is it? I’ve never seen doors like these on the 7th floor before” I asked while Fred kept staring at the doors “I dunno, I’ve never seen it on my map but, there’s only one way to find out” He pushed open the giant wood doors to reveal a very big and empty room. “Cool!” I said staring all around the room; Fred went to one side of the room I went to the other. I thought “It’s fun hanging out with Fred and all but, I wish there was something to brighten up my day” I was about to go to a shelf of dusty books but, something stopped me “WHAT THE BLOODY HELL!?” I turned around to see Fred wearing a lot of heavy make-up and wearing a ball gown. I was laughing so hard I was trying to keep my balance.

“What did you do!?” He said in rage “I didn’t do anything I…I” I thought ‘That’s weird I asked for something to brighten my day and the room did it’ “You what?” I smiled “Fred I asked for something to brighten up my day and the room just did it!” He rolled his eyes “prove it! ” I thought again ‘I wish Fred was changed back into his regular clothes’ I opened my eyes to see Fred wearing his Gryffindor robes again. “You were right! Man this room is awesome! ” I just remembered something “Fred I think this is the room of requirements I’ve read about in a book!” “I wonder why they’ve never told us about this place?” “Probably because it’s for teachers only” We both heard the bell ring which indicated that lunch was about to start “Let’s go I’m hungry!” Fred said coolly before grabbing my hand and dragging me out of the Room of Requirements.


Fred and I stopped in front of the great hall to talk to Hermione, Harry, and Ron “Hey guys!” I said sweetly “Hi (Y/n)! and Fred!” The three said “Hey come here!” Harry whispered to me and Fred “Hermione thinks that we should do a secret Defense against the dark arts group because Umbridge isn’t going to teach us bloody anything” Harry said happily “That’s a great idea!” I said excitedly “Yeah it’s a great idea it’s just that we don’t know where to hold all the meetings” Fred and I looked at each other then smiled widely at Harry “We know just the perfect place! ” Me and Fred said together.


I finally hit 50 followers!!!

I’m so grateful for you guys staying with me, and to thank you I’m opening art requests again!!! Along with doing headshots of this half of the NDRV3 cast, I’m going to do a speedpaint for the second half!!! Please feel free to ask for whatever characters you want and I’ll do my best to draw it out!

My asks are still open to any and all questions, and I’m happy to say that it’s starting to become less of the dusty shelf it was.

Thank you all again for your support I’m so happy that this blog is becoming popular in the Danganronpa community!!!