#I only found out cause one of my friends was notified of their own fics being stolen

[realmermaid333]

I've reached the level of A03 recognition where people are stealing my fics and putting them on Wattpad 😭

[hollowed-theory-hall]

What is your take on Riddle's possession of Ginny? I read a fic where she was held accountable for not immediately reporting the diary after she blacked out and started to suspect that something nefarious was going on. Stating that she 'wilfully' time and again put saving her own skin over the lives of her fellow students and teachers.

Thoughts??

Like, Tom definitely did possess her. Do I think Ginny took the best course of action in the situation? No. But I don't put as much fault on her for this as some things she does later in the books.

In CoS, Ginny is 11 years old, lonely & friendless, Tom is her only friend, she shares her secrets with him and then he turns and uses her secrets to blackmail her. Both what he forced her to do and what she told him.

Imagine how angry I was when the next time my diary was opened, it was Ginny who was writing to me, not you. She saw you with the diary, you see, and panicked. What if you found out how to work it, and I repeated all her secrets to you? What if, even worse, I told you who’d been strangling roosters?

(CoS, )

To an 11-year-old Ginny, this threat is terrifying. Terrifying enough to not tell anyone because she's scared of the consequences.

And she did try to get rid of the diary by flushing it down the toilet. So she tried to remove the source of the problem without notifying anyone. It just ended up not working out.

Ginny in CoS is mostly motivated by loneliness at first, and then fear. This threat Tom mentions in the above quote, I'm sure is one he made to Ginny. He probably explained exactly why she shouldn't tell anyone or throw the diary away. He probably told her she'd be expelled from Hogwarts if anyone found out.

While I'm not a Ginny fan, I don't judge 11-year-old Ginny too harshly. This is a terrible situation to be in. Because she feels like she doesn't have anyone to confide in besides the diary that causes all her problems. She is in a new school, her first time away from home, and new people all around, it can be terrifying, and I think it was for her.

And then you add Tom into the mix who's clever and knows how to manipulate a scared 11-year-old girl. Ginny didn't have much of a chance there. It's not like Harry told any adult about the strange talking diary (that being said Harry just doesn't trust adults).

Molly and Arthur Weasley aren't the perfect examples of supportive parents either, I don't think Ginny would've risked her parents' ire over her own problems. She probably thought (hoped) she could figure it out herself and not have to bother them. Because bothering them would've come with a punishment. I talked about how Arthur and Molly Weasley aren't great parents, and Ginny was probably scared of their punishment and her mother screaming at her like she does at Fred and George more than she feared what would happen to the other students.

“Ginny!” said Mr. Weasley, flabbergasted. “Haven’t I taught you anything? What have I always told you? Never trust anything that can think for itself if you can’t see where it keeps its brain. Why didn’t you show the diary to me, or your mother? A suspicious object like that, it was clearly full of Dark Magic —”

(CoS, 304)

Like, Arthur says this, but he and Molly don't behave in a way that encourages their kids to confide in them. So, Ginny has a reason for her fears, it's not that they're unfounded.

And she won't tell her older brothers, because she doesn't want them to see her as a scared helpless little girl. She's scared of their opinion of her just as much. And I think she truly thought it wouldn't get too bad, that she could figure it out on her own. She was wrong.

Yes, her decision is selfish, it's dumb, it endangered so many students and people in general, and it doesn't paint her in a great light. But since she was 11 at the time, I'm more willing to give her the benefit of the doubt about it. Like, I'd be more lenient when punishing 11-year-old Ginny over the CoS ordeal. I think a stern talking-to was the bare minimum, so at least it won't happen again. She probably should have received some consequences, but I don't think I'd expel or even suspend her over it.

Like, I'd probably want to make sure she understood what her actions could have resulted in so she'd be more fearful of that potential scenario in the future rather than her own skin. And I think she did understand she herself was in just as much danger by the end of the book. Like, I think this situation wasn't one she should've been punished harshly for, but instead used as an opportunity for her to learn from the situation.

A punishment should've still been given though, and I don't recall it was. Because she did hurt students (through her neglect) and was incredibly lucky no one got really harmed. So, some punishment more than she got in the books was required, but not something too harsh is what I'm thinking.

[twotangledsisters]

Update.

First, I just want to thank everybody, I didn't want to re-blog an answer each individual post because; I don't wanna spam people?

So very quickly:

Thanks to @frozenwolftemplar cause your always so gentle with your words and the (like that festival with the sculptures that go 🔥🔥🔥) got me laughing. Also, I'd love to see more fics in different styles? I love when writers experiment! (same for any artists, I get so excited when an artist I follow tried out a new medium!)

Thanks to @nyleeu-e especially cause, knowing you also went through like, going into tumblr not logged in (might of misunderstood that) and found out the same thing brings my social anxiety down a lot. Cause... I just start overanalising soooo fast and end up thinking the worst, but I love your blog, there's nothing problematic going on? So I guess that kinda reinforces what a lot of people have said about it being a tts thing.

And @batata-doce-com-farofa of course thanks for the king words and yeah, the tags, a lot of people have suggested it's along those lines.

I'm not sure if in the past I've been very lucky to be in chills fandoms. I've been extremely ignorant to drama that was happening. Or times have just changed and in the time I was in uni unable to really be in a fandom interacting the way I am now, I was caught off guard by this change...

A friend also reminded me on the phone about how I use a 'mute' feature, so I don't block people unless it's absolutely necessary, I just have a feature which stops posts showing on my dashboard and stuff. And I do this mainly because, I may not like a certain ship or dynamic but that doesn't mean I won't enjoy other content from people? Also, I don't know if that person is reading a fic of mine on ao3 and there going to one day try to reach out on tumblr and find out their blocked and a have panic attack...

And saying that, I realize the fact my mind goes over this whole thought process as to why not to block someone, probably say a lot about my own socialy anxiety.

I think as well this hit me hard because I did a post a while back being like 'I have this paranoid feeling I'm invading the tts fandom space', and this felt like tumblr screaming that paranoia was correct...

That and there were a few people who's fanfics I interact with on ao3 who had me blocked... So... That's fun.

Plus, I've actually had a few hateful anon asks recently that I've been ignoring and kinda hoping/assuming it's all one single person... But there's always that bit in your brain that says 'what if it's a bunch of people!' But I have had A LOT more positive anonymous asks in my inbox (plus I value shy people and I think people who don't have a tumblr account can only ask anonymously so I wanna leave them on for fic readers who aren't on tumblr?)

Rambling, sorry.

I reached out today to my doctor and I'm going to get an 'emergency' meeting to get my anxiety meds checked cause... Something's not working. I've also been pulled aside by another doctor over weight loss the other day so, maybe that's something to do with my anxiety? (It'd be kinda nice if it was, like, two stones one bird?)

I should probably fully step away from the internet but, cause I work from home and my friends live 2 hours away... Tumblr, fandom, it all kinda becomes my social interaction between friend visits? Like, I'm an introvert but, it's nice to not be completely alone. I'ts hard to say if the internet does more or less for mental health some days...

I'll definitely be a bit less active on here while I reign in my anxiety.

None of this will affect Ao3, I am always like 40 days ahead of schedule!

I'll probably just log into Tumblr when I'm going to post something (like if I finish an animation, probably won't be doing all the works in progress stuff...) but if anybody wants to chat just pm me and I'll sell you my discord, that's on my phone so that notified me even when I'm not logging into tumblr!

I also have some anon asks in my inbox to do with animation suggestions, I've seen them! Except for one they're all great ideas I'd love to get around to! It just takes time I'm afraid, but I promise they've been received.

So yeah...

Huge thanks for all the kind words.

I think I'm going to go take a nap.

So I just made a huge mistake because... I was browsing tumblr from my ipad and didn't realize I wasn't on my usual account, and I was on the tangled the series tab and there was soooooo much content!

I was thrilled and then I realized...

It's not that there was a lot of content today.

It's that half the fandom seems to have me blocked.

And I don't know which fandoms rules I've broken to earn my exile...

But yeah.

I'm feeling.... Honestly, extremely, extremely unwell right now.

Like... I don't know what I'm going to do.

My instinct is delete tumblr, NEVER EVER EVER comment on a fic ever again because that's the only negative interactions I've had... And just.... Disappear off of tumblr (not ao3, I don't think my fanfics are the drama and I'm too deep into that rabbit hole)....

But obviously I'm writing this literally as I am made aware....

I'm just feeling extremely shitty right now.

And as though all my social anxiety is correct and most people hate me and.... Yeah.

I think I'm going to just go make a tea and watch some cartoons.

I wish I knew what I did...

I feel like I mostly just post animations and jokes and... I try to interact with the community but maybe I shouldn't have tried to interact.

[sophierequests]

hi lovely! i have a fic idea! kaz brekker x reader where the prompt is

"take my hand"

"no"

"look im not trying to ask you to marry me, im trying to save your life"

take my hand and don't let go

Navigation┃Main Masterlist┃Requests

Pairing: Kaz Brekker x f!Reader

A/N: Found the beginning of this in my drafts and I literally do not remember starting it?? So I decided to scrap some stuff and rewrite this fic, because I actually really love this prompt for Kaz! I intended on making this into a rather light-hearted fic, but my poor writer's brain sees the name Kaz Brekker and immediately switches to angst, so sorry for that </3 It has a fluffy ending though, so don't be afraid. And, of course, thank you for the request, lovely <333

Summary: A job gone wrong forces the reader to do something she had tried to avoid: touching Kaz.

Genre: Angst, Hurt/Comfort, kinda Fluff???

Word Count: 2.6K

Warnings: Blood, explosion, Kaz Brekker isn't able to express his emotions properly, who could've guessed that?

“They still haven’t given us the signal, Kaz.” You pressed, anxiously watching the man in front of you fidget with his lock-picking tool as he tried to avoid your gaze as best as he could.

At first, the job seemed to be relatively manageable. Inej and Jesper would climb into the warehouse first, surveying the area and notifying you once everything was deemed safe. After that, Kaz and you would pick the lock, steal the blueprints you needed for your next big heist, and leave. It was something you had done countless times before - always getting out successfully - so no one was really worried about it when you went in.

However, the whole situation just didn’t sit right with you. Upon entering the supposedly abandoned building, you were immediately starting to get suspicious of how clean it was. It was far too well taken care of for a warehouse without any real occupants since the previous shareholders had gone ‘bankrupt’. And even though all of that definitely rubbed you the wrong way, Kaz proceeded to make his way through the dingy hallways in the direction of the vault. You didn’t even try to get him to reconsider, he wouldn’t have listened anyway.

By now, the two others should have already cleared the entirety of the premise, causing Kaz to become a bit restless. His fingers were itching to finally get all of this over with. The blueprints were crucial for his next plan, so you fully understood why he needed this mission to work. But it genuinely unnerved you that he was ready to throw caution to the wind just because your friends diverted from the original plan.

“What are you doing?” He leaned down just enough to access the lock without putting too much pressure on his bad leg. The weather had been terribly frigid over the last few weeks, and it was taking a toll on his agility. It pained you to watch him put himself through this without being able to offer him help, but you knew that he would be too stubborn to actually accept it.

“What does it look like? Interpretive dance?” He sneered, removing his leather gloves before getting to work. His alabaster hands clashed with the rich black colour of his coat, making them look almost translucent. You watched him as he reached for the tool, pausing briefly to prepare his mind for the coldness of the metal. With a huffed breath, he brought it up to the lock, cautiously manoeuvring the tip around inside the mechanism. You didn’t know why he had such a severe aversion to touch - one where he couldn’t even bear to be touched by cold materials or objects - but you were well aware that it had to have been something pretty traumatic for him to react this way, meaning that you wouldn’t pry.

“Inej and Jesper haven’t told us that everything is clear, you can’t just ignore your own orders!” You hissed, giving him an exasperated glare that could have just as well been a carbon copy of his own, whenever he had to deal with Jesper’s antics.

“My orders are the only orders I can disregard without a guilty conscience.”

“Oh please, you and having a guilty conscience? I thought you weren’t one for fairytal-” The sentence was harshly cut off by yells echoing from the corridor adjacent to the one you were in. You turned your head, whilst Kaz was still focused on picking the lock.

“Kaz! Y/N! Don’t!” Jesper yelled as he finally appeared in your line of sight. When he saw the situation you were in, his already frantic eyes grew even wider, a look of horror spreading all over his face.

“Jesper, what is-”

“Explosives!” The words didn’t even fully leave his mouth as the distinct click of the lock forced your eyes back towards Kaz. He only had time to shout for both of you to run before a deafening bang sounded from behind the door. Only Jesper was still able to follow his command. You were still wrapping your head around the situation when a sharp blow lifted you off your feet with brutal force.

Your body hit the concrete ground with a firm thud, rendering you unable to move for a few moments after the impact. Everything around you was spinning, and you felt as if you had just lost the majority of your ability to hear, but staying on the ground wasn’t an option. The distinct metallic smell of an explosive-induced fire travelled through the dust-filled air, as you forced yourself to sit up. You could barely make out the silhouettes and shapes of the objects around you as you watched the fire crawl out of the room. If you didn’t leave now, you would be the next thing to succumb to its wrath.

Kaz.

The thought shot into your mind like the top of an arrow hitting a bullseye. Your distorted sight and slight dizziness limited your ability to spot him greatly, but you wouldn’t leave him here to die.

A violent cough caught your attention, and you saw the hunched-over form of Kaz futilely trying to sit up. Since he had been so close to the epicentre of the explosion, the sheer power of the blow had thrown him right against the rough wall opposite the door. You could recognize scratches and bruises all over his face as his eyes hectically peered through the rubble around him.

“Kaz!” You called out, wobbly dashing towards him. His head snapped around to face you, an emotion akin to relief flashing over his features. He tried to push himself up, at least to get into a sitting position, but his whole body ached as he attempted to do so. It was only then that both of you noticed the torn-up fabric of his trousers revealing a deep gash on the side of his leg. His good leg. “This looks bad.”

“Go.” He let out a laboured breath, as he let his back rest against the wall.

“And leave you here to die? We both know I won’t do that.” You thankfully managed to spot his cane, bringing it over to him as quickly as you could. Kneeling down next to him, you tried to assess the damage with weary eyes.

“Y/N, that wasn’t a request. Go.” The harsh tone of his voice didn’t faze you anymore. He might be a stubborn bastard, but even he didn’t deserve to meet his end in a filthy burning warehouse.

“If you think that I’ll start listening to you know, you are greatly mistaken.”

“I won’t be able to walk.” He hissed in pain as he finally managed to sit up properly. If it had been anyone else but Kaz Brekker, you wouldn’t even have thought twice about pulling him to his feet and dragging him outside. But you couldn’t do that to him.

“Take my hand.” You hoisted yourself up to your feet again, stretching out your hand for him to take. This was risky, however, you needed to do something.

“No.” His lips were pressed into a thin line as he looked up at you, apprehension written all over his face.

“Kaz, for Saints’ sake! Look, I’m not trying to ask you to marry me, I’m trying to save your life!” This attempt at humour wasn’t much appreciated.

“I can’t.” His gaze wandered to his hands. His bare hands. He didn’t have his gloves. Shit, this only managed to get worse. You really didn’t want to do this.

“Listen, I can’t - and won’t - force you to do anything.” Your previously demanding voice grew a bit softer as you gave him one last chance. “I know that this is going to be really uncomfortable for you, but we have to leave. I’ll do whatever you tell me if that means that you’ll agree to let me help you.”

“Okay.” You watched the way his hand shook as he reached for yours. With a surprisingly tight grip, he held onto it, allowing you to pull him to his feet.

Immediately upon standing up, an intense pang of pain shot through his legs and he began to stumble forward, his body threatening to give in again. Your mind went into overdrive as you lunged forward, hastily putting an arm under his shoulder and letting him cling to yours.

His heart began to race when he realized the situation he was in. His bare hands had been on your bare hands and now there were only two layers of clothes separating your skin. You were close. Way too close for him to function properly. The rising waters mixed with the stinging ache rushing through his legs made him want to vomit.

“Kaz.” Your voice pulled him out of his stupor briefly, giving him enough distraction to keep him from pushing you away and having a panic attack right then and there. “We need to move. Please, tell me what to do.”

“Keep talking.” He shifted his weight to partially lean on his cane, reducing the pressure he had put on you. “Distract me.”

The cracking of the fire behind you made the urgency you felt prior to this return. You managed to give him a brief nod before carefully beginning to inch forward. One of your arms supported his back, while the other rested on his chest to keep him from falling forward. From where your hand was situated, you could basically feel his heart thud against his ribcage, his rapid breathing only underlining the panic brewing inside him.

“Do you remember that one week two months ago? When all of your heist plans went missing and you never figured out who took them, even after they returned the week after?” You had to distract him. You had to keep talking.

“Yes?”

“I hid them.” It was a stupid thing to bring up. It didn’t have any correlation to what was happening right now, but it seemed to get him to focus on something else than the current situation.

“What?” The words almost came out as a chuckle, but you weren’t sure whether that was because he genuinely found it entertaining, or because the absurdity of the situation beat him to it.

“You were ill. You had a fever.” Kaz almost froze when he heard that. It was true. He had been ill that week - probably one of the worst fevers he had since the plague. But he never told anyone. He even made sure to lock his window to stop Inej from suddenly appearing. Initially, he had intended to retreat into his office, and just continue to work on some upcoming heist plans. However, one day after breakfast, all of the plans were gone, and no one seemed to know a thing. Not even a thorough search through the Slat made them reappear. Eventually, he just decided to give you the week off for ‘recreational activities after an especially tiring heist’. Lo and behold, after his fever had set again, the plans returned to his desk again - neatly stacked and sorted. “I hid them so you could rest. I knew what you were trying to do, and I didn’t want you to overwork yourself just to keep anyone from being made aware that you can get sick too.”

Ask her why.

The questions bubbled inside his head. Why would you go out of your way to force him to rest? Why did you even care about his well-being enough to do something like that?

“Why?” He rasped out, becoming even more aware of the way his heart raged against its restraints.

“I suppose for the same reason why I’m not letting you stay here and die.” That statement was a bit too honest for your liking, and Kaz seemed to have picked up on it. However, before he could press the matter further, a sudden wave of nausea and vertigo overcame him. The waves had ultimately managed to pull him under.

And without being able to take another step, his legs buckled, the world around him fading into black. The only thing you could do was to hold onto him as he fell, only scarcely breaking the fall before his limp body hit the ground. He had fainted.

The next time he woke up he wasn’t in the warehouse anymore. He was at the Slat. In his own room. In his own bed. It seemed to be late - the darkness engulfing him was a pretty strong base for that thesis. The only source of light that had even allowed him to recognize where he was, came from somewhere beside him. He didn’t bother to look where it was coming from, nor did he have the energy to turn his head.

Every still-intact muscle screamed at him, but he felt a strong urge to sit up. His efforts were futile though. A hand quickly hovered above his chest, not touching him, but present enough to get him to abandon his task.

“Don’t.” Kaz could feel his entire body relax when he heard your voice. He had half-heartedly expected it to be Nina, or maybe even Jesper, there to scold him for being so foolish. Having you here was way preferable. “Don’t try to sit up. You need to rest. And if Nina sees that I allowed you to sit up, she’ll probably stop my heart. Or yours. Or both of our hearts if she’s feeling especially murderous.”

His head fell back on his pillow, angling it a little to the side to take a better look at you and also finding the lamp that just barely illuminated the corner of his room. You sat right next to his bed, some novel resting idly in your lap as you gave him a comforting smile. And even though he still felt as if he had been run over by a carriage going full speed, he couldn’t help the ghost of a smirk rush over his lips.

“What happened?” The question had been burning holes in his head since the bomb went off. He had a rough idea, but the details were rather blurry.

“It was a trap. Dime Lions. They paid our informant to lure us right into their trap. Apparently, Inej found a stack of letters in the not-so-abandoned office, but Jesper was too late to tell us.” You recited what they told you after dragging Kaz back to the Slat. You didn’t remember every single detail, but this amount of information would suffice for now.

“I should have waited.” Kaz groaned, regret flooding his mind as he remembered the events of the day prior. Had he only waited a little while longer…

“Hey,” You reached forward, resting your hand just mere inches away from his. “You couldn’t have known. We all made it out alive, so you have nothing to blame yourself for.”

“That doesn’t rectif-”

“Kaz.” He only sighed in response to your warning glare.

“Fine.”

“I think I should go down and tell Nina that you’re awake. She wanted to take another look at your leg once you’re conscious again.” You were just about to stand up when Kaz seized the hand close to his. His touch was featherlight, - not at all comparable to the tight grip he had on it a day earlier - but it was still there.

“I knew that it was you.” He croaked out, his eyes fixed on yours as if you were about to vanish once he averted them.

“That I was what?” You replied perplexed, your brain still trying to process the fact that he was willingly touching you right now.

“That you were the person who stole the heist plans. I didn’t know your reasoning, but I knew that it was you.”

“You knew? Why didn’t you say anything? If it had been Jesper, you would’ve ripped him to shreds?”

A pause.

He knew exactly why he didn’t confront you about it. He just couldn’t tell you. At least not yet.

“I suppose for the same reason I wanted you to leave the warehouse without me.” His hand gave yours a brief squeeze before eventually letting go. Even though he didn’t say it out loud, the knowing smile that began to settle on your face told him that you knew.

Taglist:

Grishaverse fics in general: @yesshewrites1 @dal-light

Kaz Brekker: @ell0ra-br3kk3r @juneberrie @writingmysanity @b3kk3r-by-br3kk3r @brekkers-desigirl @fall-writes

[havenoffandoms]

72 for Geralt/Jaskier?

I meant to post this a lot earlier... sorry about the wait, nonnie. I hope you like it anyway. I'm not sure how it came out in the end after I agonised over this for the past couple of days, but it was fun going back to my Geraskier roots.

Masterlist

Pairing: Geralt x Jaskier

Prompt 72: Character A has a secret. Character B does whatever they can to find out what it is. When they find out, they wish they hadn't.

Warnings: brief angsty episode, mention of Geralt's traumatic childhood

Also, I love that art! Holy Shit!? So of course this had to feature before the fic <3

Travelling with Jaskier had its downfalls.

For one, the bard talks a lot. He never stops, not even in his sleep, and that would drive any man insane if you ask Geralt. He listens to Jaskier waffling about poetry all day, every day, he doesn’t have to endure a lecture on the benefits of iambic pentameters when he’s trying to fall asleep, thank you very much. Jaskier also likes to complain about every little thing that causes him discomfort, which when they’re on the path, ranges from fly bites all the way to sore feet. Travelling with a human also means that they travel considerably slower, unless they’re both riding on top of Roach, but Geralt doesn’t like putting his best girl under that kind of strain very often.

For all of Jaskier’s flaws, Geralt would hate to have to separate from his bard. At least, when Jaskier is close by, Geralt can keep an eye on him and make sure Jaskier doesn’t get himself into any unnecessary trouble. Having Jaskier travel with him gives Geralt peace of mind. He appreciates the singing as well, even if he could stand to tell Jaskier this a bit more often. Geralt deems that his bard’s ego is plenty inflated without Geralt making it worse. Not to mention that life always seems a little bit brighter when Jaskier is around, and the nights are a little less lonely as Geralt gets to pull his bard close and fall asleep to the sound of his beating heart. Knowing that Jaskier is safe is the only thing that lets Geralt sleep peacefully at night.

You’d think that after nearly two decades of knowing his bard, Geralt would have figured out Jaskier’s secret by now. Geralt is, of course, referring to Jaskier’s near supernatural ability to always come up with coin when he and Geralt need it most urgently. Geralt has no idea how the bard does it - his songs are popular, granted, and on a good night Jaskier makes enough to buy a nice room for the night and the better pieces of meat from the kitchen. Still, being a bard doesn’t pay that well, not even if you were as famous as Jaskier. Just last week, Geralt’s horse and most of his belonging were stolen by bandits, leaving Geralt travelling on foot and too poor to afford to buy a new horse. Two days later, Jaskier came trotting up to their camp atop a gorgeous mare, looking mighty pleased with himself but refusing to tell Geralt how he managed to afford to pay for the horse.

“Would you believe me if I told you I stole her, Geralt, my dear?”

“Not in a million years,” Geralt admitted deadpan, pulling an offended squawk from his songbird.

“Just because I’m a bard you don’t think I can steal a horse?”

“I don’t think you could ever steal a horse because you’re as stealthy as the proverbial bull in the porcelain shop.”

It’s not just the horse, though. Geralt’s armour needed replacing and good armour doesn’’t come cheaply. Geralt doesn’t hire the services of just any blacksmith or armourer to craft his weapons and protective gear. He has his regular suppliers, the ones he always goes back to because he knows that their work is reliable and of the highest quality. And even though these people know Geralt by now, even offer him a friends and family discount on occasion, their wares still come at a hefty price. Geralt, as it turns out, didn’t have the coin to replace his armour for a few months. He desperately needed new boots, though. A new pair of breeches wouldn’t hurt either, and his silver sword broke in half whilst fighting a particularly vicious griffin a few weeks back.

Geralt didn’t even mention all of this to Jaskier. That didn’t stop the bard from going ahead and commissioning a brand new suit of armour, new silver and steel swords, as well as a few casual clothes for Geralt to wear on the warmer summer days. All of this must have cost an arm, a leg and a fucking lung, and yet Jaskier acted like he didn’t just break the bank all for Geralt’s benefit. He didn’t even get anything for himself and that realisation had Geralt feeling slightly embarrassed about the gesture.

“You don’t have to buy me all this stuff, Jask.”

“I know that, dearest,” Jaskier assured him, eyes soft and an easy smile playing on his lips, “but I wanted to. Only the best for you, my sweet witcher.”

The mystery of where Jaskier managed to find the coin to pay for all this remains unsolved, despite Geralt’s questioning. Well, if Jaskier won’t outright tell him, then Geralt will just have to investigate the matter by himself.

"Where the fuck did you get your hand on all the coin to pay for all this?" Geralt asks one evening, blunt and straight to the point. There was probably a kinder and gentler way to ask this, but after spending weeks mulling over Jaskier's sudden new-found fortune, Geralt has lost the little patience he possessed in the matter. Jaskier, on the other hand, looks perfectly unperturbed.

"From the bank," he offers simply as he sprinkles expensive herbs over the hare Geralt caught earlier that evening, "you know, where people deposit their valuables? I know you witchers don't believe in bank accounts, savings and interests, but-"

"Where does the coin come from?" Geralt interrupts, hissing those words through clenched teeth.

"Why, my inheritance."

Geralt stares for a long while. It takes his brain several seconds to catch up to what Jaskier is telling him, and another few seconds to make sense of the words. Inheritance?

"What inheritance?"

"Well, when my father passed away he left me and my siblings a share of his wealth. That's how inheritance works. Say, pass me my satchel my dear, I think I have some more spices in there."

Geralt wordlessly hands Jaskier his satchel, still trying to process this new discovery. Come to think of it, Geralt knows precious little about Jaskier's family. Sure, that's probably on him for never asking, but Geralt has grown so used to Jaskier oversharing every aspect of his life that he never needed to ask his bard anything. Jaskier just… never talked about his family. Or his childhood, or his upbringing. His life story seems to always begin when he was a student at Oxenfurt.

Geralt is growing curiouser by the minute.

"When did your father pass?"

"Oh? Uh… good question. Maybe a few years after I went to Oxenfurt? I'm not sure. I received a letter from the bank notifying me that a share of my father's wealth was deposited in my account."

Geralt frowns. "You never went back to find out what happened?"

"No."

Well, that's an oddly abrupt response, and Jaskier doesn't seem like he's got anything to say on the matter. Which only makes Geralt feel more curious about the whole thing.

"Why not?"

"Geralt…" Jaskier heaves a sigh before putting on a smile that doesn't quite reach his eyes, too tense to be genuine. "My father and I didn't get along. I felt no need to go mourn him with the rest of my noble family in Lettenhove when he passed. That's it. That's all there's to it. I was not a good enough man to refuse my share of the inheritance, either, despite my non-existent relationship with him."

That's a lot to unpack. Geralt always assumed that Jaskier had a good childhood. Then again, he would think that, wouldn't he, considering Geralt spent his own childhood being tortured by magnanimous and sadistic mages. Where most children got to spend time outside helping out in the fields or playing with their friends, Geralt was put through drill after drill, after drill… until he was physically unable to walk so much his muscles hurt.

"Wait… did you say your noble family?"

"Hm?"

"In Lettenhove… there's nothing in Lettenhove. Only the Viscount and his family live there on a large esta-" Geralt's mouth clicks shut as realisation dawns on him. "Your father was the Viscount of Lettenhove?"

"Yes. And since I'm the oldest, after he died that title passed onto me. But I much prefer being a bard, so I graciously devolved my duties to my younger brother, who now manages the estate. Are we done with this conversation?"

"I didn't mean to make you mad…"

Geralt watches Jaskier stop dead in his tracks, his shoulders briefly tensing at those words, before exhaling loudly through his nose. Jaskier anxiously rubs the back of his neck as he straightens up and offers Geralt a sheepish smile, that one warmer and softer than the previous one.

"Sorry, dear heart. I didn't mean to be so short with you. It's just… well, there's a reason I don't bring up my family all that much."

"Hm." Geralt gently taps the spot next to him on his bedroll, and Jaskier doesn't have to be told twice. Soon, Geralt has one arm wound tightly around Jaskier's shoulders. Not quite a hug, but the intention is there all the same, and Jaskier eagerly melts in the embrace. "I shouldn't have insisted. I'm sorry."

"Don't apologise. You did nothing wrong." Jaskier nuzzles the crook of Geralt's neck sweetly before depositing a featherlight kiss just over his pulse point. "Do you want to ask me anything?"

Geralt ponders over that question far too long before whispering an answer in the air pocket between them.

"Did he hurt you?"

Jaskier hesitates.

"Not physically, no. He didn't approve of my aspirations and choices. He didn't support me. I suppose it hurt a little when he didn't see me away to Oxenfurt at the age of 15, but he never raised a hand on me."

"Hm." Good, Geralt thinks. No child should ever have to suffer at the hand of an adult. Geralt earned plenty a beating at Kaer Morhen, some justified and others not so much. Just because he went through this doesn't mean he condones it.

"At least I get to spend his money on someone I love," Jaskier offers softly, eyes as blue as the deepest ocean glancing up at Geralt through dark lashes, “That, at least, the old man can’t take away from me.”

A happy little rumble bubbles up Geralt's chest, despite the blush gracing his cheeks.

"I never thanked you for the gifts." Geralt blushes a deeper shade of red at the realisation. "Sorry. It's been a long year."

"Well, good thing we're heading North soon then, hm?" Jaskier straightens up so he can cradle Geralt's face in his lute-calloused hands. Their eyes meet then, amber seeking out blue, and Geralt thinks that he must be the luckiest son of a bitch in all the Continent.

"Yes," he agrees in a whisper, tilting his face to place a kiss on the inside of Jaskier's wrist, "good thing, indeed."

Request a prompt

[twotapbuz]

This fic was inspired by this post by @swampythesweetsketch. I’ll post the fics for the rest of 1010 as soon as I finish them.

You were hired to be a personal bodyguard for Eloni

Along with the standard supplies(1010-themed uniform, flashlight, pepper spray, body camera), you were given a watch that would alert you to Eloni’s location whenever he was in trouble

This along with the job wouldn’t be out of the ordinary if it weren’t for the fact that neither of the other members of 1010 had personal bodyguards

You would soon learn why after your fourth concert

You had been approached by two lost fans that were looking for the meet & greet table when your watch suddenly began to beep rapidly. “Eloni must be in trouble,” you thought as you excused yourself from the duo and quickly hurried to the idol’s location. Eloni had somehow gotten to an alley near the venue. You weren’t really sure what to expect. Had a fan tried to kidnap him? You had heard stories from other security staff about crazy fangirls trying to take them or at least pieces of them. You reached the alley and found Eloni being hoisted by a group.

“Freeze!” you said while holding up your pepper spray. This diverted the group and they looked at you. “Drop the robot, now.”

“And if we don’t?” mockingly replied one of the “fans”.

“I’ll send this video to Neon J and have you banned from any future 1010 events.” you tapped your body camera. The threat of not seeing “the loves of their lives” caused the group to practically drop Eloni and they all scattered.

“Thank you.” Eloni got up. “You’re the first guard to catch them before they threw me into the trash”

“No problem, just stay away from alleyways.” you began to write an email, informing Neon J that Eloni had been safely retrieved. “ We wouldn’t want to-wait... the trash?” you stopped and looked up at him.

“Yeah, they usually throw me into the trash. One time I got thrown into a nearby pond.” Eloni admitted, embarrassed.

“And how often does this happen?”

“Around every other concert.” Eloni began to lean on the alley wall

“Yeesh, no wonder Eloni needs a personal guard,” you thought. “Wow. I knew the fans were a bit crazy, but I didn’t think they would go this far.” you tried to pick out your words carefully, trying and failing to not upset the robot.

“I just don’t understand why they hate me so much?” Tears began to fall down Eloni’s face. you froze, unsure what to do, before moving to comfort him.

“Hey, I’m um really sorry about what’s happening to you… if you want, I could maybe give you some advice?”

“Really?”

“Yeah” you looked at your watch. “We should head back to the venue, Neon J is worried about you.” Eloni wiped the tears off his face and began to walk beside you

“I’m sorry you had to see that.”

“It’s not a problem.”

You unofficially become Eloni’s PR Manager:

After that moment, you would help Eloni with his image before every event(it was the only time you would see each other as you had no reason to be near Barraca Mansion, and giving Eloni your phone number would be unprofessional).

“You’re supposed to be the funny guy of the group, right?” Eloni nodded. “Well, give me a joke. Let’s see what you got.”

“Ok. What did the fish say when he swam into a wall? Dam.” Eloni shot finger guns at you. You stared at him. “Why do fish live in saltwater? Pepperwater makes them sneeze!” Eloni said, less confident.

“...I see. In the nicest way I can say this, you need new material, Eloni.”

“What? But I spent hours researching jokes on the internet!”

“That’s the problem. Everybody has heard of these jokes. If you want to be funny, you gotta be original. Here.” you handed Eloni a piece of paper. “There’s this restaurant in Dream Cast called The Mind Palace that hosts comedy hours every Saturday at 7 pm. I was going to go, but something came up, so you can have my ticket.”

“Really? Thanks!” Eloni smiled

-----------

“So, how was the show?” It was the Monday after the show and you were curious to hear Eloni’s new material.

“It was great! They’re definitely gonna love my new material!” Eloni pulled out his phone and began to show you a video. It was 1010 doing a tour around Vinyl City. Eloni paused the video and pointed at himself. He was dabbing. Between the Eloni in the video dabbing and real-life Eloni looking so proud, you couldn’t help but chuckle and this adorably dorky display. Eloni liked your laugh.

While the new material definitely got Eloni some fans, it still wasn’t enough. So you began to inquire about some of his hobbies

“Another way to get people to like you is to seem relatable. Do you have any hobbies?” You asked

“I bake in my spare time”

“Perfect! We can make a YouTube account and post some of your recipes there. Cooking channels are very popular, I even follow some myself.”

Your advice ends up working and Eloni begins to have his own fan club

He’s given the same love that his brothers are.

You’d think this would be the end of your job, afterall, you were hired to keep Eloni safe from angry fans, but now they all love him.

Instead, the lack of necessity for your job is strangely never brought up by Neon J and you continue business as usual.

You’ve got a crush on Eloni:

You recognize that you’ve got a crush immediately

Ever since Eloni became popular, the two of you’ve had fewer opportunities to talk to each other as he was constantly approached by fans

Having to stand by and watch Eloni be constantly flirted with made it pretty easy to realize your feelings

You decide to ignore these feelings

After all, your relationship was purely professional

Ok maybe all those times you accompanied him all over Vinyl City were just excuses to hang out, but still, your relationship was professional 

And his number was saved in your personal phone and you two often texted each other 

Even if your relationship was more than professional, Eloni had a lot more choices than you and you didn’t want to ruin what you had

Eloni realizes he’s got a crush:

It first started when he saw a stage technician flirting with you. Eloni got annoyed by this, but he didn’t know why.

It took a while for Eloni to realize his feelings. He at first mistook his crush as just being glad that you were his friend

Eloni also began to think about you a lot. Not just about your advice, but he also began to be reminded of you wherever he went.

It wasn’t until the middle of a baking stream that he realized that he had a crush on you

Eloni tries to flirt with you:

Attempt #1, the 1010 style:

Eloni decided to make his move. 

“Hey, Y/N!” You turned around to face the green robot. “Have you thought of joining 1010? Cause you're definitely a ten out of ten.”

“That was a really good one! You should definitely use that during the concert.” You replied, unable to tell the difference between Eloni asking if his lines were good and him flirting with you. Eloni hid his disappointment, but I guess that’s what happens when you use someone as practice for your pickup lines.

Attempt #2, the sweet way:

Eloni decided to take a more “traditional” route by giving you a box of homemade chocolate. And by giving you a box of chocolate, he would place it on top of your locker and would tell you it was him when you opened it.

Eloni waited for you to show up, but you never did. He was about to search for you when he was suddenly stopped by Neon J.

“Troop, this is Emiro.” Neon J gestures to the robot next to him, “He’ll be your bodyguard for tonight.”

“What happened to Y/N?”

“Y/n had an allergic reaction to something they had been eating. Thankfully, they had an epipen on them, but they're taking the rest of the day off.” With that, Neon J left Eloni with the realization that you were probably allergic to the chocolate he made. He was definitely not telling you that he made it.

Attempt #3, third times the charm:

This time, the rest of 1010 decided to devise a plan to help their brother. 

They knew Eloni would probably never confess outrightly and while his feelings for you were obvious to Neon J and them, it would take a bit more effort for you to notice.

NSR was hosting a party on the anniversary of the company's creation. And with parties came a lot of security.

You and several other members were assigned to go undercover as party guests and report anything suspicious

This meant that instead of your usual attire, you wore a dress/suit 

You still had your watch(the Eloni signal) with you as it also doubled as a radio that you could use to notify staff of suspicious activity

You had been casually chatting with other NSR staff when your watch had started to beep rapidly

Eloni was in trouble

You immediately rushed off to find him, it had been months since he last needed to signal you so it must’ve been bad

You turned around the corner to where Eloni was, only to be met with Haym.

“Haym?”

“Oh hey Y/N! How's it going?”

“Hello, Haym. I’m sorry, but I can’t really talk right now. I’m looking for Eloni, but my watch says he’s right here.”

“Don’t worry, I know where he is!” Haym proceeded to push you into a nearby room. You try to open the door only to find that it was locked. You tried to call someone on your watch, but it was gone. Haym must’ve taken when he pushed you.

“Haym, what the hell is going on! Let me out!” You said while banging on the door. He was kinda your boss, but you had a much more casual relationship with the other members of 1010.

“Y/N?” A voice said behind you. You turned around only to find Eloni. You could tell because of the green eyes and cheeks, which dimly lit the darkroom.

“Eloni? Is that you?” You couldn’t really tell due to how dark it was.

“Yeah, it’s me.”

“Are you ok?”

“Yeah, I’m fine.”

“Good. Do you happen to know why Haym locked us into this room?”

“Well, my brothers thought it would be funny if….” Eloni hesitated.

“Please tell me this isn’t some messed up version of seven minutes in heaven.”

“What, nonono!” Eloni’s fans began to whir loudly

“Right, sorry. Not like I’d have a chance anyway,” you mumbled that last part 

“What do you mean?”

“Oh, Well it’s just you're a famous idol and you’ve got a lot of fans, you know?

“Who cares if I’m famous! That doesn’t make you any less incredible than you are. You’ve made me so happy and you helped me become popular! You were my first fan and I would love to go on a date with you! Eloni froze after realizing what he said.

“Wait, you like me?”

“Yeah”, Eloni blushed, I have for a while. I understand if you want to forget that this happened. I’m really sorry and I-“ 

You cut Eloni off with a kiss.

“Don’t worry. I feel the same way.”

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

“I’m going to the roof to stargaze. Would you like to join me?” Eloni asked. You had managed to unlock the door, and by unlock, you kicked the door open.

“Well I’m supposed to be out on the lookout for suspicious people,” Eloni’s face began to slightly falter. “But, my main objective is to keep you safe, so It’s best if I go with you. After all, you know how crazy fans can get.” With that, the two of you headed towards the roof. 

“Well, that was really cheesy,” Zimelu said, peering his head behind a corner, before getting smacked by Rin. 

[1dmonthlyficroundup]

1D Monthly Fic Roundup

Hi, and welcome to the 1D Monthly Fic Roundup for July 2021! Below you’ll find One Direction fics that were all published this month in the order they were submitted to the blog. We hope you’ll check out these new fics! If you would like to submit your own fic, please check this post on how to submit or visit our blog @1dmonthlyficroundup​.

Happy reading!

Game Changer by @neondiamond

[Harry/Louis, 6k, Mature, tumblr post]

“Did the doctor say what was wrong with you?”

“He thought I was pregnant,” Louis scoffs. “Told me to go home and take a test, a pregnancy test, Haz. Can you imagine the nerve it takes for him to even think that?”

Harry looks lost in his thoughts for a few seconds. “Did you? Take a test, I mean?”

“Of course I didn’t.”

OR: A couple months before playing in his first long-awaited World Cup, Louis finds out he’s pregnant. Harry’s there for the ride.

(I Was Broke) You Healed Me by @fallinglikethis

[Harry/Niall, 12k, Teen and up, tumblr post]

Niall Horan is an unmated pregnant omega living on his own after his alpha boyfriend leaves him. Far from his family and friends in Ireland, Niall is stuck living in a complex for Alpha/Omega bondmates, terrified every day of being found out by his landlord.As if that isn't enough, he's suffering from touch deprivation. Luckily, Niall's doctor can at least help him with that part: she prescribes Niall some cuddle sessions. It's only a little weird that the person she's prescribing him is her brother. Or maybe that's actually a little bit perfect.

The Only Pain in Pleasure is the Pleasure of the Pain by Layne Faire / @laynefaire

[Liam/Zayn, 10k, Explicit, tumblr post]

Liam had followed InZaynity, an artist's Instagram, for ages. Not only was the artist incredibly talented, his voice poured over Liam like warm honey on a winter's night, and his hands were the stuff Liam's wank dreams were made of. However, having Zayn unexpectedly arrive as the newest artist at his best friend's tattoo shop brought Liam's fantasies and reality a little too close for comfort.

Zayn Malik met his boss' friend on his first day at Fine Line Tattoos, and felt an instant attraction. Unfortunately, given Liam's unwillingness to even hold a conversation with him, Zayn was certain the feelings weren't reciprocal. Or were they?

When Liam's new tattoo design falls outside the scope of Tommo's talent, and he recommends Zayn do it, Liam reluctantly agrees. Surely he could manage to spend hours in Zayn's company without revealing his biggest secret, right? Right?

Blow Me Away by LadyAJ_13 / @ladyaj-13

[Louis/Liam, 6k, Explicit, tumblr post]

Louis likes giving blow jobs.

He doesn't exactly get off on it – he's been with people who properly loved it, and he's not quite that into it – but he doesn't mind the feel or the taste and he really, really likes watching his partner lose it, so getting down on his knees regularly is a no brainer.

Which is why it's a bit frustrating that every time he does, Liam hauls him back up again.

Why Didn't We Make Out the Night We Met? by @berzerkshires

[Louis/Harry, 52k, Explicit, tumblr post]

Louis and Harry meet in an alley outside the hotel Louis is staying for the weekend. Harry introduces himself as Ed, and Louis is completely clueless. They have a relationship through text messages, phone calls, shared pictures and Facetime calls. Is a cell phone being the only source of communication enough? Will Louis ever learn that he's really talking to an international popstar? And what happens when the world is shutdown due to a wide spread virus?

I Love This Feeling (But I Hate This Part) by @lululawrence

[Harry/Louis, 7k, Not rated, tumblr post]

“Stand up.”

Harry stood up from the couch, not a moment’s delay.

“Oh my god, is that what that’s like?” Harry turned to Louis, surprise on his face. “I really thought they were somehow exaggerating, but it really is an automatic response with absolutely no thought from me behind it whatsoever.”

Louis sighed again. “You really wanna keep doing this? Have me use my alpha voice on you so you can work on resisting it?”

“Yup,” Harry said, clapping his hands and smiling. “How else am I going to be able to have any chance at reducing the power an alpha voice has on me?”

I Said It Wrong, But I Meant It Right by @lululawrence

[Liam/Nick Grimshaw, 4k, Not rated, tumblr post]

Nick was a bit of a disaster, but she was used to it.

Or so she thought. She had never known how much she could struggle just to function until the new fire lady goddess angel person winked at her.

Oh, Those Summer Nights by cherrylarry / @beelou

[Louis/Harry, 1k, General, tumblr post]

“Are you okay?” He kneels down to inspect where Harry still has his hand pressed against his head.

“Oh! Yeah, I’m fine.”

“My name’s Louis. Can I buy you dinner or something to make up for hitting you in the head?”

Harry crinkles his eyebrows. “Me?”

Louis chuckles. “Yes, you. If you’d like?”

“Yeah. That would be nice.” Harry smiles so that his dimples show. “I’m Harry.”

“Harry, it's a date, then." Louis grins.

An extended scene of the beginning of the movie Grease as a larry au

people fall in love in mysterious ways (maybe just the touch of a hand) by @vintageumbroshirt / 28sunflowers, @justalarryblog / Bekita, @bluecolouredlou , @beelou / cherrylarry, @thedevilinmybrain / devilinmybrain, @hershelsue / docklands, @foreverfanficaddict,@idolizingthelight / idolizingthelightt, @inlockets / loveroflou, @perfectdagger, @so-why-let-your-voice-be-tamed / we_are_the_same

[Louis/Harry, 13k, Teen and up, tumblr post]

Set in a world where meeting your soulmate causes a literal spark, Louis Tomlinson has no time for fate. He knows all too well the heartbreak that having a soulmate can bring and he'd rather avoid the whole affair. But, when a chance meeting with up-and-coming popstar, Harry Styles, causes the biggest electrical surge the world has ever seen, Louis must confront the truth that sometimes destiny knocks when you least expect it.

Somehow, Someway by @zanniscaramouche

[Louis/Harry, 16k, Teen and up, tumblr post]

Louis Tomlinson has everything all figured out for a smooth post-graduation sailing into the perfect career in the music industry. A canceled class, a high school play, and a disarming set of dimples were not part of the plan. (Especially when they belong to a boy wearing someone else’s jacket.)

Featuring: A punk with the worst timed crush in history, that moody art kid that never shares cigarettes, the cutest pastel-pink wearing boy on the planet, and his unfortunately nice bottle-blond jock of a boyfriend.

Forts & Fortunes by @neondiamond

[Louis/Harry, 2k, General, tumblr post]

It’s finals week at uni and Harry is struggling to find a healthy balance between studying and tending to his needs. Lucky for him, Louis is there to help him out with that.

One way to reduce tension by @neondiamond

[Harry/Louis, 1k, Explicit, tumblr post]

Harry knows of a few ways to help Louis get rid of some pent up stress…

We Got a Call by @greenblueish / bluegreenish

[Louis/Harry, 24k, Mature, tumblr post]

“Fisher from St Peter hospital, hello. Is this Mr Tomlinson?”

Louis’ eyebrows furrow in concern. Why is the hospital calling him? Has someone he knows been in an accident? “Uh, yes?”

“Great. Your results are in. Congratulations, you’re pregnant!”

“Pregnant?” he chokes, the word almost getting caught in his throat.

“Yes, without doubt,” the woman from the hospital confirms, her voice neutral but somehow chirpy. “I recommend promptly booking an appointment with your ob/gyn to discuss how to proceed.”

"I...Yeah, I’ll talk to my … partner.”

or, the one where Louis and Harry Tomlinson are married and Louis accepts a phone call that was definitely meant for his husband.

How Long Will We Fall (Before We Can Climb) by 4ureyesonly28 / @evilovesyou

[Louis/Harry, 860 words, General, tumblr post]

Louis' faith in Harry is unbreakable. When they get caught kissing and he is thrown out of his home forever, he has to learn to have faith in himself.

Rope, Leather and Lipstick by 4ureyesonly28 / @evilovesyou

[Louis/Harry, 552 words, Mature, tumblr post]

Something about ropes around wrists, and tinting skin the colour of strawberry ice cream, tender and kissed by dark lips. Smudging sticky red lipstick across the slight blue shadow of veins, and assuring hands tightening knots.

Lies & Liability by 4ureyesonly28 / @evilovesyou

[Louis/Harry, 34k, Mature, tumblr post]

Harry Styles has only three wishes when he leaves River Dane Manor to go to Town for his first season: that his sister has rented a townhouse that will provide him as many of the comforts of the country life he has grown accustomed to as possible, that he will not trip and fall when he is presented to Her Majesty the Queen, and that he will enter matrimony out of true love, no matter how favourable the match with any which alpha may be.

Sugar at Night by @brightgolden

[Harry/Louis, 33k, Explicit, tumblr post]

With a year left before he completes his degree, a wonderful fiancé, and a baby coming soon, life is going exceptionally well for Harry Styles.

But, the truth always has a way to unravel itself, doesn’t it?

So, what do you do when the person you fell in love with is not the person you thought they were?

I got myself in a mess (and without you I'm in more) by @so-why-let-your-voice-be-tamed / we_are_the_same

[Zayn/Liam, 9k, Mature, tumblr post]

It’s not desire that has his synapses firing. It’s not the urge to jump him that makes him feel jittery.

It’s the fact that everything about this man - a nice, unassuming guy on Tinder, who studied IT and who seemed like a safe choice - screams danger. It’s the fact that Zayn has been absently touching his necklace for what feels like half the night now.

The necklace. Thank God for Lou, honestly. He’d laughed a bit, at first, when Louis had given it to him, when he’d explained all about the app that it was connected to, the emergency contacts that would be notified and sent his exact location “if you just double tap the back of the charm, see” because Louis was that friend, the mom friend, but right now? Right now Zayn will gladly take the gentle ribbing from Louis if it means he won’t have to spend another moment with this guy.

I don't care if the world knows by @so-why-let-your-voice-be-tamed / we_are_the_same

[Louis/Harry, 6k, Teen and up, tumblr post]

Harry is fourteen when she buys her first binder. She’s been doing cosplay videos on Tiktok for a while at that point, and it seems like the logical choice. Not that there’s anything wrong with cosplaying characters of the opposite gender and not wanting to fully look like them, she’s seen plenty of wonderful creators put their own spin on characters in a way that transcends the source material, but when it comes to her own cosplays -

She just likes it to be accurate.

She likes her chest to be flat, not soft and curvy, when she’s wearing her Crowley cosplay, or when she’s transformed herself into Loki.

It’s all about the aesthetics.

∞

Over the course of a few years, Harry explores and comes to terms with gender identity.

It’s Probably Because I’ve Got a Big Lesbian Crush on You by yeah_alright / @uhoh-but-yeah-alright

[Louis/Harry, 6k, Teen and up, tumblr post]

Harry's never really concerned herself with being part of the popular crowd. But as the new girl in school the second semester of her junior year, she finds herself unwittingly competing for Queen Bee status against high school royalty Louis Tomlinson. Maybe there's more to their rivalry than it seems.

A not-quite-Mean Girls AU

Going Green (so fucking green) by yeah_alright / @uhoh-but-yeah-alright

[Louis/Harry, 5k, Explicit, tumblr post]

Harry just really loves being used, and Louis really loves Harry. Who is he to deny him?

Or: Reduce, Reuse, Recycle but make it BDSM

the next bit was spanners to my plan by LadyAJ_13 / @ladyaj-13

[Louis/Nick Grimshaw, 6k, Teen and up, tumblr post]

The first time was an accident. The second time was an accident too.

Or: Louis and Nick end up shagging on the sly, everyone sends far too many emojis and far too few words, and eventually they're going to have to sort themselves out.

Trust Me Tonight by @vintageumbroshirt / 28sunflowers

[Louis/Harry, 10k, Explicit, tumblr post]

After Harry’s eighteenth birthday, his father calls him into a meeting to say that he is to be married to Prince Louis of France in just over a week.

Harry is excited, of course. The arrangement is better than any he could’ve hoped for, with such a young, handsome and kind husband.

There is just one issue: Harry doesn’t know what happens on his nuptials, or how to get pregnant to give Louis the heir that he needs.

Can we make it any more obvious? by LouStylesHTommo / @smolhilariousbeans

[Louis/Harry, 6k, Explicit, tumblr post]

Five times the boys accidentally walked in on Harry & Louis plus one time they did it on purpose.

Aka Niall, Zayn, Liam being supportive of Lou&H sexy shenanigans.

darling just dive right in by @so-why-let-your-voice-be-tamed / we_are_the_same

[Zayn/Louis, 5k, Teen and up, tumblr post]

Louis can’t think of a worse place to be than at the Malik estate, attending his ex boyfriend's wedding.

Shining just for you by ThoseFookin_Avacados / @hlhome28

[Harry/Louis, 1k, General, tumblr post]

For a clumsy person, Harry danced with quite the grace- spinning around Louis, billowy light robes brushing against his firm darker ones. Despite his slightly smaller build, Louis was decivingly strong, his grip on Harry's waist tight as they performed their steps in sync. Like two opposite halves of a whole, like ones reflection in the mirror, like the sun and the moon.

Part 2 of the Prompt Generator series

crown me with your heart (your love is king) by @perfectdagger

[Louis/Harry, 41k, General, tumblr post]

The universe must’ve had a field day when it decided to plan Harry’s life. There was no plausible explanation for anything that happened in his life anymore. Try as he may, he would never be able to control his life nor predict what would happen next. What were the odds that the one person he was sure he had fallen in love with but had completely let him slip out of his life, already resigned to the fact nothing could ever evolve between them due to Harry’s future with Eroda, happened to be the same person who had Harry’s future in his hand?

A The Princess Diaries 2: Royal Wedding au in which Harry is the Crown Prince of the small island of Eroda and Louis’ uncle is trying to take the throne from him, with a slight a/b/o twist and some more.

[teamhappyme]

to care for you

rafael barba x female!reader

referenced cases from S17E04 and S17E16

word count: 4k

a/n: this is my first fic that I’m letting the world see and I’m... terrified. i hope whoever reads this gets some joy out of it. shoutout to @qvid-pro-qvo and @hurricanejjareau , y’all got me roped into loving the SVU boys, and this would not have been created if I hadn’t found your blogs. big inspiration over here. alright, here we go friends.

****

“Well you’re going, right?” 

“I haven’t decided.” “Haven’t decided? It’s Liv and Noah, Barba. A christening for the cutest little boy and the most deserving mother. They’ve been through hell this year, they deserve our support. Besides, you’re a devout Catholic, you should be all in for this.”

“First of all, he’s getting christened in a Unitarian church. Second, I wouldn’t exactly use the term devout. The last time I went to church was with you and Carisi after that trafficking case last year.” He said while grabbing another slice of pizza. In your three years since joining the SVU this was the first time you saw Rafael Barba eat a slice of pizza. 

“Careful. You might get some grease on that thousand dollar suit, Counselor.” He glared at you before taking a bite. “If you’re worried about the priest smelling your absence out, Carisi and I have enough devotion to pass on to you.”

“I don’t want any of Carisi’s Catholic guilt.” “You need me to take your confession?” You asked with a smirk. 

There weren’t many people that could get away with pushing Barba’s buttons without getting chewed out by the ADA in his next breath. And when you first started out with the squad, there were many occasions where you and Barba had some heated arguments.

Getting transferred to SVU was an overwhelming experience. You were thrown into the understaffed department right along with Carisi, so the two of you had to step up pretty quick for the unit. There was no adjustment period, trust wasn’t built, it was forced upon the squad. It took about two months for you to really trust the other detectives, but once you did, the unit got into a groove. Cases were being solved left and right and you started to understand the routine of the SVU. 

Until you had to testify. It was six months in, and it was your first testimony with the unit. It was also the first rape case you worked with minor victims. There were four fifteen year old girls accusing their history teacher of rape, two of which disclosed to you. 

You prepped with Barba for an hour the night before, making sure you knew the case inside and out. You felt confident in your answers, and were ready to take the stand. Until the following morning. On your walk down to the courtroom with him, you rushed into the ladies room to vomit up your coffee and your anxiety. Public speaking was never one of your strong suits, and Barba had cautioned you to be prepared for Buchanon’s toxic cross examination.

As you washed your hands and cleared your face, Rafael stayed outside the door, even deterring a woman from coming in. Once you exited, he was waiting at the side, pulling a granola bar and stick of gum out of his blazer pocket. You took the food, as he gave you a nod and waited for your okay to continue the walk down to the courtroom. A slight nod of your own and weak smile got his feet moving again. 

That trial was the first olive branch extended between you and Rafael. He wasn’t one to offer warm greetings, and since you were often glued to Carisi’s hip, it was hard for him to separate you from the enthusiastic detective. There were passive aggressive comments relayed back and forth while trying to indict a perp, and long nights spent deliberating probable cause at the round table. But it wasn’t until you accompanied Liv to One Hogan Place, in a particularly bad mood when you sassed the ADA back after he made a comment about your witnesses being incredibly unreliable, not having time for the shenanigans. 

After that moment, Rafael knew that he could trust you. The passive aggressive comments yielded, but the sass continued. The repertoire the two of you were slowly building drew quite the audience, Carisi and Rollins almost always feeding the fire with more topics to discuss. 

About a year into your tenure here, you started to check in on Barba. The first time you stopped by was originally a business call. Liv needed a warrant asap, already staking out the apartment of a suspect. You rushed over to the courthouse, trying to find any ADA’s secretary when you saw Barba still in his office at midnight. According to Carmen, he rarely went home before 9:00. After that night, you made it a habit to check in on him at least once a week. The DA’s office was a cutthroat environment, and Barba’s office was an even lonelier place. 

Thursday nights were penciled in for your unofficial drop ins, almost through the week but still burning the midnight oil. You would show up around 10:00 with pizza for you, and sushi for his expensive taste every time, knowing neither one of you had time to eat dinner yet. Most of the time, the two of you would work on your respective cases, sometimes sharing notes if the work overlapped. But if it was a slow week, sometimes the two of you would just, talk. It was nice to be able to talk to someone who understood the demanding nature of the job. Your family in particular couldn’t understand why you loved this career so much, but your squad could. It was reassuring to have their support.

“Alright, enough with the holier than thou attitude, Detective. I actually wanted to talk to you about the case.” Sitting up a little straighter in your chair, you wiped your hands on a napkin as he pulled out a manila folder. “I’ve been encouraged by the D.A. to drop the charges against Bobby D’Amico and Noel Panko.”

“What?” “And I have a motions hearing scheduled for Friday morning to dismiss the charges.”

After everything the squad had done for this case, what you saw Amanda put herself through. It was all for nothing.

“Barba, you can’t be serious. We have three victims, two willing to testify. We have footage of them attempting to rape Rollins for crying out loud.”

“Kristi Cryer has changed her story too many times. She was raped, then it was consensual, it was Panko, it was Panko and D’Amico. A jury will never believe her story.” You crossed your arms over your chest. “The jury won’t believe her or you won’t?”

“Hey, you know this isn’t about what I think. This isn’t a case we can win. We have to look at the optics.”

“The optics,” you muttered as you stood up from your seat. “Multiple women were raped by two well-known men in New York society, and the D.A. doesn’t want to make any enemies, right?” 

“You’re taking this worse than Liv did.” You scoffed. “Am I? Good. Because for the rest of their lives, those girls will have to live with the fact that their rapists are still out there. Not to mention their reputations will be ruined. People are going to call them liars, and whores. Their lives are never going to be the same. All because you won’t stand up to the D.A. and do what’s right?” 

Rafael stood up now, his loosened tie swinging from the sudden movement. “If this goes to trial, it will not go our way.”

“What about when you went after DCFS? You went after Musio, Grayson, Sheridan,”

“That was different,” “Why because it was Liv?”

“Because the department was a mess, and there were months worth of evidence of neglect and backdating reports. You were there, and if I remember correctly you were fighting alongside Liv to get me to prosecute.”

You ran your fingers through your hair, not willing to accept that this case was over. “These girls deserve justice, Barba. You were there when Panko went off at Dodds, he knows he’s done.”

“I want these guys just as bad as you do, Y/n. But we do not have the evidence. It’s a he said she said case, with one other accusation from a year ago without a rape kit. Not to mention Rollins went undercover without notifying a superior, tainting the whole investigation. We will make a fool out of ourselves and lose this case in court.”

“And it’s all about winning for the D.A.’s office, isn’t it. Can’t do anything out of the kindness of your hearts, can you?” You knew you crossed the line as you saw Rafael’s shoulder’s drop the slightest bit, his jaw clenched in place. 

“Maybe if you passed the Bar instead of failing three times you could understand why we can’t pursue this. We can’t bring a case to trial based on our emotions. This isn’t your tissue loaded desks, this is a courthouse.” 

You broke the tense eye contact you were holding after his statement. Insulting your academic failures and empathetic tendencies in one foul swoop. That was a low blow, even for the counselor.

Rafael knew his words pierced you. He pushed his chair back and let out a breath, getting ready to back track. But you beat him to the punch. 

“You know, my capability of empathizing with victims is the reason why you’ve put so many rapists away. If they had to speak to you, there would be no cases for you to even prosecute.”

This wasn’t a normal spout between the two of you. Things rarely got personal, and if they did, they were never this spiteful. 

“Then I guess there’s a reason I’m prosecuting in front of the judge and jury and you’re dealing with the victims.”

You scoffed at his final statement. You knew he was cocky, but you didn’t think he would use your insecurities or shortcomings against you. Especially not the fact that you failed the Bar Exam three times, which was only disclosed to him once Carisi opened his big mouth.

Covering your head with your beanie, you made your way to the door before either one of you could do more damage. You fought the urge to apologize, knowing you would need space before you could think of a response.

“Have a good night, Counselor.”

****

“Oh my goodness, Benjamin! Look at that tower you made with Maura! Did you show Luke?” “No. Mama saw it!” You smiled at the two year old through the phone, his own grin lighting up the room even over facetime. “Benjamin, is mama there? Y/n/n wants to talk to her for a minute.”

“I can bring you to her!” Maura took the phone out of the toddler’s hands, but you quickly protested so you could say goodbye to your godson. “Bye Benny, I love you buddy.” He blew you a kiss and you caught it as your little cousin brought you across the room. 

“Auntie Leah! Y/n/n wants to talk to you.” She handed the phone over while settling in next to her aunt. You saw your older cousin’s calming face, and couldn’t help the tears in your eyes.

“I haven’t even said anything and you're already crying,” You let out a laugh and took a sip of water. “Sorry. It’s been a long day.” 

“Y/n, are you at the precinct? It’s 8:00 your time on thanksgiving, what are you doing there?”

“There was some work I needed to get done. If I can’t be with you guys, I can at least get a head start so I can come home for Christmas.” The squadroom was empty now, but it had only been filled by the desk sergeant and a couple uni’s until five. You’d been here since noon, not succeeding in spending the holiday alone in your apartment. “Besides, I’ve been able to ignore all of my mother’s phone calls with the ‘I’m working’ excuse. Has she called you guys yet?”

“Just mom once. You know she doesn’t mean it to hurt you, she just wishes you could spend time with family for the holidays.” “I know.”

Your family meant the world to you, and having missed the last two years of holidays was hard on you. Sure, you saw them eventually, but Christmas and Thanksgiving weren’t the same alone.

“Since I’ve already started Christmas shopping, is there anything Benjamin needs or wants from his godmother?” “He has requested, and I quote, ‘y/n/n’s nummy cookies’.” The smile that spread across your face was so big it almost hurt. That baby boy was probably your favorite person on the planet, besides your own nieces and nephews. “Alright well hopefully he can help Y/n/n make those nummy cookies in a few weeks. If not, I’ll send a box out, along with an amazing present.”

“What about me?” Maura asked, and you just shook your head. “Hey, I’m not made out of money here girlfriend.” She laughed at that.

“Have you at least eaten anything today?” Leah asked, trying to steer the conversation into a more meaningful direction. She could read you so easily. “Yes, I have. I’m not going to be here much longer, so I’ll grab something for dinner on my way home.”

“Y/n/n,” The eight year old interrupted again, and you couldn’t help the smile that etched across your face as you rolled your eyes at the silly nickname. 

“Yes, Maura.” 

“There’s a fancy man walking towards you.” 

You turned your head and saw Barba walking through the squadroom. “I gotta go, Leah.” 

“Is everything okay?”

He pulled over Carisi’s chair, raising a brow to make sure it was okay. You nodded.

“It’s okay. Just a colleague. I’ll talk to you later.” “Okay. We love you and miss you.” Tears pooled in your eyes again as Maura hopped on. “Love you Y/n/n!” A tear fell from your eye as you let out a laugh. “Love you too guys. Bye.”

You ended the call, quickly wiping your eyes now that you had an audience. It was only last night that you had your rather animated argument, and neither of you had reached out. Being stubborn was one of many traits the two of you shared.

“Can I help you, counselor?” 

He held up a brown bag with a receipt stapled to the fold. “It’s thursday night. It’s usually you making trips to the office, but I figured I could take the field trip tonight.” 

He opened up the bag, pulling out cartons of Chinese food. Your hand immediately reached for the fortune cookies, ripping the plastic wrapper off. 

There was a lingering tension in the air, unresolved conflict, and hurt feelings, but it still felt okay. Mainly because the two of you knew you were both to blame. 

“How did you know I was here?” You asked while grabbing the carton of lo mein. “I called Carisi. He said you were supposed to be in Minneapolis for the holiday, but got wrapped up in the case. Said he offered his family to you, but after hearing the commotion over the phone, I understand why you declined.”

“I didn’t decline because of their raucous personalities. I just wanted to get some work done.” 

He digressed, retreating into his carton of fried rice. “What about you? Why aren’t you eating pie and decorating for Christmas with your lovely mother?”

“She volunteered this year. Since Abuelita died, she hasn’t been a big fan of holidays.” You nodded, knowing how hard it was for Rafael to grieve his abuelita last year. 

“How has she been doing?”

He shrugged. “She has good days and bad days. She blames herself most of the time, but she has her school, and her kids to keep her upright.” “And you.” His eyes met yours for a brief second, the corners of his mouth turning up the slightest. He always wanted to do more for his family. 

“Was that who you were on the phone with? Your family from Minneapolis?” 

“Yeah. I was supposed to go out there for thanksgiving, but when we caught Kristi’s case, I cancelled. I thought,” You stopped, knowing any mention of the case would bring up last night’s conversation.  

“We were going to trial.” He finished the sentence and you nodded.

If everything had gone according to plan, Panko and D’Amico would’ve been indicted this week and the trial would’ve begun the following week. You’d already started prepping Kristi with Rollins, making sure she knew her story backwards and forwards. But it was all for nothing it seems.

“Y/n, what I said last night,” You shook your head. “We both said things we didn’t mean. I started it, and was completely out of line.” 

“You weren’t. You were fighting for Kristi, and your case. I just, I didn’t want to hear it.” He ran a hand through his hair, not perfectly quaffed like usual. “I shouldn’t have brought up the Bar. It was low, extremely low, and you didn’t deserve it. You and Carisi could take me out in court in a day. And if you ever tell him that, I’ll deny it until I die.” You laughed while taking an egg roll, crossing your finger over your heart. “Cross my heart and hope to die.”

You let the apology sink in for a minute before starting your own. “I know you would’ve brought this to trial if we had enough evidence. I know that you care about the victims just as much as we do. I’m sorry that I said you didn’t.”

Poking around the container, he let out a scoff. “You weren’t that far off. I’m the D.A.’s puppet, letting him decide which cases I prosecute or not. We don’t have a lot of room for an emotional influence. I know how cold I can be with vics and witnesses.”

“That doesn’t mean you don’t care.” 

“Tell that to Kristi Cryer. She posted a vlog today, ripped me a new one for not believing her. Called the D.A.’s office, and I quote, ‘a bunch of spineless jellyfish.’ She’s not wrong. I mean,” He let out a humorless laugh. “I went to law school so I could help people. At least, that’s what I’ve been telling myself the last twenty years. But in reality, I’ve been climbing the bureaucratic totem pole, pushing myself further and further away from that kid in the Bronx.”

“You don’t seriously believe what Cryer said do you?” He shrugged, not meeting my eyes. You sighed, placing the carton on your desk, leaning over to rest your hand on his arm. “You are the Assistant District Attorney for the Sex Crimes division. People do not last here if they don’t care about the victims. I’ve seen you in court, in testimony prep, hell even in interrogation. You care about every single person that needs our help. Does it suck that the law is not the most accommodating to rapists and pedophiles? Yeah, it’s really shitty. But you didn’t write the law books, as much as you like to believe you did.” A smile crept onto his face. “You care about your mom, your abuelita, everyone that helped you in the Bronx. I know you care about us, even Carisi, although you’d never admit it. You are not a spineless jellyfish, no matter how fun it is to say.”

“You really believe that?” He still couldn’t meet your eyes. It always amazed you how easily the most put together people could fall victim to their insecurities. 

“Rafael, I would not be spending every Thursday night for the past two years with you if I didn’t believe that you were one of the most kind-hearted people I’ve ever met. I care about you.”

His green eyes finally met yours as he moved to gently hold your hand that was previously resting on his forearm. He gave it a soft squeeze as you smiled, trying to ignore the butterflies that started blooming in your stomach. The same butterflies that rested there every time your hands brushed when you were walking down the hallway, or when his hand rested at the small of your back to escort you into the courtroom. And after tonight, and the way he was looking back at you, you knew he felt them too.

You spent the next ten minutes finishing off the takeout, sitting in a comfortable silence, not needing to fill the moment with anything else. The two of you kept sneaking glances at one another, breaking out into a sheepish grin if you were caught. 

Once you were done eating, Rafael cleaned up the food as you got all your belongings together for the long weekend. It wasn’t until that moment you realized he wasn’t wearing an expensive suit; he had on a navy blue quarter zip, black jeans, and some loafers. A smile crept up on your face knowing that you got to see him in casual clothes.

“Ready?” He asked as you slipped on your gloves and pushed your chair in behind you. “Ready.” 

You lived close enough to the precinct that it was only a ten minute walk. Rafael lived in the other direction, but still insisted on walking you back to your apartment. An Uber could pick him up from there, he said, because that man would not be caught dead walking across the city in his loafers.

He called for a ride as you approached your block, not wanting him to wait in the cold too long. As you approached the brick walk up, you started to fidget with the keys resting in your pocket. 

“Thank you for dinner. And a double thank you for not making me eat your sushi.” He smiled. “You’re welcome. Thank you for being such good company.”

“Anytime.” A sharp gust of wind hit you, causing you to duck your head into your coat for a few seconds. When you looked back up, Rafael’s cheeks were rosy red and wind burnt, and absolutely adorable. “I’ll see you next week for a warrant, I’m sure.”

“I’m sure. Make sure to get me a coffee on the way, listening to you list the legal reasons why you need the warrant always makes me sleepy.” 

You smiled.“Deal. Goodnight, Raf.”

“‘Night, Y/n.” 

Despite the farewell statements, neither one of you moved. You couldn’t bring yourself to look away from his warm eyes, and it wasn’t until you felt his fingers brush against yours that you moved closer. 

His eyes flickered to your lips for a second, before looking back at you. You took another step towards him, waiting for him to close the gap between you. When he did, all you could feel was the warmth of his lips on yours, and the cold tip of his nose resting against your cheek. 

It was short, the two of you pulling away after a few seconds. But one smile from you had him leaning back in, resting a hand on your cheek as he kissed you again. It was slow and careful, but full of adoration. You couldn’t help but smile into him, bringing your hand up to rest against his own. After a few more seconds, his own smile made it impossible to stay connected. 

This time when you pulled away, you rubbed your thumb across his red, wind burnt cheek, not even trying to suppress the stupid smile on your face. And you were happy to see him grinning the same way.

“I’ll call you tomorrow,” He said, shifting his head just enough to press a kiss to the palm of your hand. Neither one of you is willing to ruin this moment with any talks about what this means. “Okay. Get home safe.” “I will.”

One more look at his rosy red cheeks, and you let out a laugh before you let yourself pull away.

“What?” He asked, completely dumbfounded by his affect on you. You shook your head in response. “Nothing.”

He returned your laughter before lightly kissing your lips one last time. You could get used to this. 

“Goodnight, counselor.” You said once you pulled away, lightly shoving him toward the ride that just pulled up. 

“Goodnight, detective.”

****

[teamhook]

Finding Hope :: A CS August Rush AU birthday fic

Hellol! Okay, before I go on. I swear this will be the last WIP I start. I had to. This story is for my favorite dork @hookedonapirate cause I love her to death. She had asked me to write it before but at the time I was writing the Forever My Girl CS AU.

Happy Birthday!! Hope you like your present.

Thanks to my beta @ultraluckycatnd she is the best!!

FFN

AO3

A love for music unites an unlikely pair. The rhapsody they unknowingly created will give life to the hope they still have in their hearts.

Killian Jones and his older brother Liam had arrived from London with nothing more than the clothes on their back to pursue a music career. The lives of the Jones brothers had been difficult since the beginning. Their mother died at a young age and their father had decided he was not made to be a family man.

The Jones brothers had formed The Outlaws with some fellow expatriates they met along the way. The venues they played weren't the best, but they managed to make a name for themselves enough to have steady gigs.

Emma Nolan had grown up with loving parents but after an unfortunate accident, she was left alone. Afterwards, her grandfather took her in. George Spencer was an ill-tempered man. He wasn't a doting person, which caused Emma to become closed off. She focused on solace in the cello. Thankfully, the man valued pomp and grandeur so, at the thought of his granddaughter attending Juilliard, he eagerly made it possible.

On a rare night out with her best friend Elsa, they decide to go to listen to a little-known rock band called The Outlaws they saw fliers for. It was love at first sight. The lead singer mesmerized the young cellist with his voice. The girls waited for the band to finish their set to introduce themselves to them. Elsa and Emma fit in with the band perfectly. The Jones brothers had quickly gravitated towards the blonde beauties.

Emma and Killian had slowly drifted away from the group. It ended up being the most magical night for the young lovers above New York's Washington Square.

Months later, Emma finds out she is pregnant. Somehow, she already loves her kid so much. Her grandfather makes his displeasure known, however, every moment of her pregnancy.

The day her life changed was gloomy and rainy. After an argument with George, Emma had gone to the store to buy some last-minute things for her baby. The drunk driver came out of nowhere. When she gives birth prematurely, her grandfather takes advantage while she is unconscious and gives the baby girl up for adoption. The moment Emma wakes up, she is told the news that her baby is dead. The news shatters her musical dreams and any hope of happiness.

You're not special. You're just like the rest of us... alone, nothing but an orphan.

The music... Can you hear it? Listen... I can hear it everywhere.

It's in the wind ...

in the light...

It's all around us.

All you have to do is open your heart and listen.

Sometimes the world tries to knock the hope out of you.

They tried to stop me from hearing the music...

I believe in music the way others believe in fairy tales. When I'm alone it builds inside me eager to erupt into a melody. I like to believe that what I hear came from my parents. That the music I hear is the same one they heard the night they met...

Maybe that's how they found each other and that's how they'll know I am theirs and find me...

Hope Swan had grown up in foster care. As a baby, she had been adopted but returned once the couple was blessed with their own flesh and blood. After that, she bounced from foster home to foster home.

In her shared room at the group home, she's currently at, Hope records herself humming a song that keeps playing in her mind, but is rudely interrupted by her roommate who mocks her. "You are not special. You're just like us, an unwanted orphan."

The girl walks away, slamming the door.

Hope's eyes water at the mean girl's words. She knows it in her heart that she is wanted and someday she will find her parents. She continues recording her humming of the song in her heart.

Hope is now eleven years old. She stands in the back of the group as one of the younger girls is adopted by a couple. Maybe she should be bitter and want to be adopted but if she was, she would never find her parents. They're out there and she will find them.

Hope runs away once more from her group home. Living on the streets she makes friends easily, but is still guarded. She knows that someday her parents will come looking for her. All she wants is to go home.

As she wanders the streets, runaway Hope Swan is getting closer to find her home. She knows she will find her family. All she has to do is listen to the music in her heart and follow it.

A kind man, Merlin, is assigned Hope Swan's case. She wasn't a trouble maker, but she was reportedly closed off with the couples. He is notified that she has run away. She has a history of running away. The picture of the young girl saddens him. He wishes he can find her and place her in a good home. She is a pretty girl, with blonde hair, vibrant sea-blue eyes, dimples, and a slightly dimpled chin. He posts her picture on the board.

Emma Nolan had moved away after losing her daughter. Her little girl, her grandfather told her the baby was a tiny girl. The heartbreak led her to become a music teacher to kids. She was always surrounded by children and music. That was the way she chose to honor her child. An unexpected call from her grandfather's doctor makes her break a promise she had made to herself years ago. He is the only family she has left.

Once she arrives at his house, she is summoned to his death bed.

His eyes tear up. "I thought you wouldn't come."

"I don't hate you Grandpa, but my heart hasn't healed. Time will never heal this wound," she sniffled.

He closes his watery eyes. "I think I can help with that."

Emma gets closer to his bed, confused. "How can you say that? My child is gone! You didn't want her, so you threw her away while I slept. You took that away from me. I couldn't hold her!"

"Emma, enough!" he screams, then immediately starts coughing from the effort.

"I'm sorry, I made a mistake. I know now that family is precious, that image doesn't matter. Emma, I have a confession. I hope it's not too late and that you will find it in your heart to forgive me."

Emma stares at him.

"She's alive. Your little girl is alive."

"What? How can you be so cruel and say that to me!" Emma says with disbelief and tears pooled in her eyes.

"Because it's the truth. She is alive. I gave her up for adoption, and I was the one who signed the papers. I was your next of kin since you weren't married."

Emma gapes at the old man as she let her limp body drop to the chair next to his bed. "You gave my daughter away as if she was property because I embarrassed you?"

George Spencer can't keep his eyes on his granddaughter. The once-proud man weakened by age and disease casts his eyes down in shame. "In my safe, you will find the documents."

"What good will that do me?" Emma asks.

"Emma, my attorney can help you find her," he says quietly.

"But-"

"Emma, if your parents were here, they would tell you that you should never lose hope," he says.

Emma stands up. "You're right, I'm going to find my daughter."

George sighs as he falls into a deep sleep, his machines flatlining. The nurse that had given them privacy to talk rushes in as soon as the machine goes off.

Emma finds the papers and with trembling hands, calls Mr. Gold, the attorney.

The man is a ruthless slimy bastard. He tries to convince Emma that her kid is better off where she is. Of course, he would say that seeing he had helped her grandfather do this to her; he was just covering his ass. She doesn't care about that. All she wants is to get her kid. She has a daughter and she is out there. She hopes to God that she is being taken care of.

Killian Jones had moved to California not long after The Outlaws broke up. He had given up his dream of singing, but somehow had managed to gain a thriving career as an agent.

He had also distanced himself from the memory of Emma. After the band broke up, his brother and former bandmates had moved to Boston. Killian thought the further away he could get would be better, though. He tried forgetting her, but he knew he could never forget her. It was only one night, but he would belong to her for the rest of time.

Liam had called him a few days prior to ask if he wanted to join them in a reunion of sorts. They were going to play at the little place where he had met Emma. The joint was going out of business so in an effort to raise money to save it, The Outlaws had agreed to come out of retirement for one night only.

Killian had yet to agree, but 'what if' rattled in his brain. Something inside him tugged at his heart. A man unwilling to fight for what he wants gets what he deserves, Liam had told him over and over. He decides he will do it. He will fly to New York and look for Emma. He prays to every deity he can that she is not married. It's a selfish thought, but he couldn't bear it if she isn't meant for him.

Killian picks up the phone and dials his brother's number. "Liam, I'll be there."

"Brother, you'll do it? What happened to never setting foot in New York?" Liam asks.

"Liam, are you going to question my decision? I thought you would be happy," Killian says through gritted teeth.

"I am, I am. I'm just surprised. Killian, this doesn't have anything to do with her, does it?"

"Brother," Killian sighs, "Even if it was, I don't have a way to contact her." Sure he was lying, but his brother didn't have to know all his reasons.

"We are driving out there," Liam says.

"I'll fly. I will text you the details once I've made arrangements," Killian says.

"Alright, see you then," Liam adds. "Brother, it's going to be good seeing you after so long. I miss you."

Killian sighs. "I miss you too."

The line disconnects. Alright Emma Nolan, what have you been up to? he thinks as he enters her name in the browser's search engine. He had thought of looking for her before, but he had never found any sign of her online. He knows her family has money but somehow she has managed to stay hidden. The only information that would come up was of her grandfather's business deals. His heart tells him that this time, though, things would be different.

Sure enough, he finds one headline: "George Spencer dies at home after a long battle with heart disease."

Killian reads the headline carefully and his heart sparks with hope to see Emma again. The newspaper lists her as the sole survivor of her grandfather's Estate. That means she would have to be at his home. He winces at the thought. He knows that his method to approach her while grieving will be considered to be in bad form, but if it is the only chance he has, he has to make the best of the situation. He takes a deep breath and alters his flight plans so he can arrive a couple of days earlier.

Mr. Gold had changed his tune when Emma didn't fall for his manipulations and offered his services. Emma reluctantly accepted his help. He told her to give him a couple of hours and at that time, he would have information to make her search easier. He quickly found out that her daughter had ended up in foster care. He gave her the name of the caseworker assigned to Hope Swan. That was her baby's name. Emma tries to ignore the fact that her daughter is in the care of the state. She wonders what she looks like? Does she take after her or him? Killian Jones, he had never left her thoughts, but before it was painful to think of him because inevitably her thoughts would end on her daughter. Emma smiles, realizing how fitting the name Hope was for their daughter. Emma thanks Mr. Gold and goes to see Merlin Wilde.

Emma arrives at the CPS office. Her nerves are getting the best of her. She approaches the information desk. "Excuse me, I'm looking for Mr. Wilde?"

The woman looks bored. "Do you have an appointment?"

Emma shakes her head. "No, I'm sorry. I must speak to him, though."

The woman rolls her eyes. "Fill out the sign-in sheet. I will see if he can fit you in today." She gets up and heads to a door behind her desk.

Emma is about to sit down when something catches her eye. Pictures of missing kids. Runaways. She gravitates to the board. Her heart is beating so fast as her eyes land on a name, Hope Swan. Emma smiles as she stares at blue eyes that reminded her of the pair that stole her heart all those years back. The sound of someone clearing their throat startles her.

"I'm sorry for startling you, Miss Nolan. I'm Merlin Wilde." He smiles at her as he looks over her sign-in sheet and signals for her to follow him.

"Oh, no it's okay. Yes, I wanted to speak to you in private. My situation is not a common story," Emma says as she follows him to his office.

They enter his office and he kindly motions for her to take a seat.

Emma looks around the office. She tries to get a feel for the man. He seems kind, but looks can be deceiving.

"Miss Nolan, how may I help you? Is there a child in a situation you are concerned about?"

Emma nods. "Mr. Wilde, yes, in fact, that is the reason why I'm here."

"Alright," he starts taking notes. "May I have the child's name?"

"Hope Swan," Emma says. "I'm her mother."

Merlin looks up from his computer. "I'm sorry," he says as he types rapidly on his computer keyboard, before looking up quizzically. "Her case says she is in the care of Mrs. Emerald."

"I'm afraid you misunderstood me. I'm Hope's biological mother." She takes a deep breath. "I was young and unmarried when I got pregnant with her, and my grandfather didn't think having a child was appropriate." Her eyes begin to sting because of the tears. "He took it upon himself to decide that giving my daughter away while I was unconscious because of an accident was the appropriate decision to make. Until recently, I thought Hope was dead. I'm here because I need your help getting my daughter back. I understand she is in foster care, so it shouldn't be a big deal, right?"

Merlin keeps his eyes on her and laughs. "She is a good kid, the people that had fostered her before never had a complaint about her. She loves music and she always hummed a melody to herself. She was just not open to letting them in. It's like she knew she didn't belong there. I'm afraid that has caused her to run away on several occasions. I was just informed she ran away from the last home."

Emma's eyes tear up. "I loved my daughter from the moment I knew she was there. I used to play a song on the cello for her that her father sang the night we met. Until the day I thought I had lost her, I played the same song. I need to find her."

"And we will, Miss Nolan. I have put up fliers all over the city."

Emma nods. "I will look for her myself. I plan on hiring a private investigator. Could I have a picture of her?"

"Of course, Miss Nolan. I will do all in my power to help get your daughter back. I'm going to go looking for her at Washington Square Park. That is a hot spot for runaways. If you would like to join me? We might get lucky," he says as he hands her the picture of Hope from her file.

Emma smiles. "Sure, I will. Thank you for asking."

Hope is sitting on a bench at Washington Square Park and then she hears some music playing. Instantly, she is drawn to it. A boy around her age is playing the guitar. She smiles wide and sits down to enjoy the show. People surround the boy as he plays and they drop change on a baseball cap on the floor. Once he finishes playing, the boy picks up his cap and puts the money in his pocket. He grabs his guitar and thanks the crowd before leaving.

Curious, Hope follows him to an abandoned theatre.

Killian arrives on the first flight of the day. He rents a car and makes his way to the Nolan Estate. He is a nervous wreck. What will Emma think of him showing up unannounced? He hopes she will be happy to see him.

The boy Hope was following introduces himself as Henry. She likes him. He is nice and he promptly explains that all the runaway children live there. They had been taken in by Walsh Oz, the "Wizard". The man provides a roof over their head and food.

"Don't worry, Hope. He will teach you how to perform in street corners to pay for your part. If you're lucky and any good, he will let you use one of the park's spots," Henry says. "When he gets home with food, I will introduce you."

Hope thinks to herself it couldn't be that bad. This way, she won't be picked on for playing music.

Henry smiles fondly at Hope. "So why did you run away?"

Hope smiles back. "I'm going to find my parents. How about you?"

"My adoptive mom didn't love me." He shrugs. "Hope, I know you will find them."

Hope beams. "Thank you, but how can you believe so?"

Henry smiles. "I have a feeling that you will find them and then you will have your happy ending."

The Wizard hadn't always lived in condemned buildings. He once had been a success in his art but lost it due to some scandal years ago, but he could still spot talent. The young girl Henry had brought to him had loads of talent. She had played a song that most of the other kids couldn't play. The girl was magical. She appeared to be a musical genius with savant-like abilities and perfect pitch. He knows he could make a good living off of that girl. He smiles wickedly as the girl plays with his prized guitar, Roxanne. "Well, looks like we found our top earner thanks to Henry," The Wizard says to the group. He pulls Hope to the side. "Alright, you are going to be in my old spot at the park and you will be using Roxanne." He scrutinizes her. "Now what should we call you?"

"My name is Hope," she says.

He walks back and forth contemplating and shaking his head. "I know, I shall call you Odette."

Emma and Merlin arrive at the park. They split up in the hope to cover more ground.

Merlin posts missing posters of Hope on every corner he can; he even hands some to the people walking by.

Emma is walking around the corner when something catches her eye. They have some posters for an upcoming event displaying some talent from Julliard. She smiles wistfully, she misses her music. She takes out her phone to call an old friend. Elsa had ended up at their old school as a teacher.

Somehow her connection is stronger now. She has a sudden need to play. She feels it will help her connect with her daughter.

Tag list:

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[freckledoriya]

“dead girl walking” (izuku midoriya x reader fic)

WARNINGS: smut (18+), mentions of alcohol, aged-up character

SUMMARY: The number one villain has given you a death notice. How will you spend your last hours to live? (Inspired by the song “Dead Girl Walking” from the musical Heathers). 

WORD COUNT: 2.2k

LINKS: ao3 | masterlist | ask box

TAGLIST: since this is smut, I didn’t put my usual taglist. if you’d like to be notified when I post spicy content, let me know! 

AUTHOR’S NOTE: this is my first time really writing smut so I apologize ahead of time if it’s bad!! thank you to everyone that’s been really encouraging about me doing this, especially @gallickingun​​ 💕

The chilly night air passes through your spine like an ice cube going down your back. It has only been an hour since you received your death notice from the city’s number 1 villain, the words “tomorrow, 8AM, you’re dead” scribbled in ink on a piece of folded paper. Since receiving the threat, you did your heroic duties: reported the incident to police and strategized how to take down this villain. You were confident in your abilities as a hero, but the gnawing thought that this might be your last night alive would not rest. After all, every hero in the city that received this death notice previously had fallen victim to the villain’s deadly ways. From a purely statistical standpoint, you were a dead girl walking.

So several shots of strong alcohol later, here you stood outside an apartment, home to the number 1 hero, Deku, a.k.a, Izuku Midoriya. Izuku worked for the same hero agency that you did, and since joining, the two of you became quick friends. And that’s all you saw him as for a long time. A friend. But as patrol partners, it wasn’t uncommon for you to be witness to his many fangirls that came with the territory of being the number one hero. When you started to notice yourself feeling a twinge of jealousy as one of them shamelessly flirted with him, you knew things were going south. 

Ever since that first time, you couldn’t help but steal glances and “incidental” touches during your patrol rounds. Izuku Midoriya had captured your heart, no doubt about it. Maybe it was the way that he so selfishly put himself before others, or the sheer amount of passion he had for being the best hero possible. When you thought about it, his passion is what you found most attractive in him. Not that the luscious green waves, adorable freckles, and beautifully sculpted body didn’t do it for you, but his passion... if he could have that much passion for doing his job, you could only imagine the kind of passion he would have for a significant other. And the amount of passion he’d have during… other things.

You couldn’t help but have those sinful thoughts when it came to Izuku. He was so wonderfully naive. You often took joy in seeing how much you could make him blush and stutter when you’d say slightly suggestive things (he practically choked to death when you commented on how well his new hero costume fit him in certain areas). But at the same time, you’d have to stop yourself from drooling when watching Midoriya fight, seeing how tough and almost feral he’d get. Both things made you want to dominate and be dominated by the hero. 

So after your fifth (or sixth?) shot, you realized that dying without making that fantasy a reality would be a crime. And heroes are supposed to fight crime, right? 

You contemplated this as you climbed up the stairs to his apartment and knocked softly on the door, wobbling back and forth slightly as the alcohol coursed through your veins. Hearing footsteps approaching from inside, you start to wave to the door’s peephole, knowing that he was way too cautious to just open up the door to anyone so late at night. 

The door creaks as he cracks it open. “H-hey!” Midoriya stutters and clears his throat. “Is everything okay? It’s pretty late…”

You flash him a bright smile. “Everything’s great! May I come in?”

“Uh, sure!” he says as he opens the door for you. 

As you walk into his apartment, his scent hits you like a train. What you wouldn’t do to pounce on him right then and there, run your hands through his hair, moaning and panting in his ear as you beg for more. 

“Are you sure everything is okay? You look like you’ve been drinking and I know-”

“Shhhhh,” you say as you quickly close to space in between you two, putting your finger to his lips. 

The sensation of your body pressed up against his causes Izuku’s eyes to widen and his face to heat up. He’d never admit to it, but your presence is intoxicating to him. Every time you’re near him, he feels his chest tighten with feelings. And when he goes home alone at night, laying in bed staring up at the ceiling, you’re all he dreams about. He dreams about you under him as he grinds against you, getting the chance to feel every inch of your skin beneath his finger tips. He hates himself when he wakes up thinking of you like that. He likes you way too much to jeopardize your guys’ relationship. But now, with your face just inches from his, you’re just too tempting.

“W-what are you doing?”

You smile and give him a knowing look, as if to communicate through eye contact that “I’ve decided I must ride you till I break you.” Wrapping one arm around his neck, you pull him closer to whisper in his ear. 

“Izuku,” you say as sultry as possible. You whispering his first name in his ear gives him goosebumps. “I want you.”

Without warning, you smash your lips into his, kissing him with so much force, you’re surprised he stays standing. Midoriya immediately tenses up, unsure how to proceed. He wants to kiss you back. So badly. This is everything he’s ever wanted and more. But what if he does something wrong? What if he goes too far? Can he really trust himself to not lose control around you? What if-

“Stop thinking so much,” you say, pulling away from the kiss. 

You look him in the eyes lovingly, trying to show that you understand. Because you do. You’re terrified right now. If it weren’t for the alcohol running through your veins, you would have never had the courage to do this. But you’re here now: face to face with the man you’ve pined for for what seems to be forever. Both your hearts racing at what feels to be a deadly pace. It just feels… right. 

“I think you’re beautiful,” you say, confessing your feelings. “I know you’re always trying so hard to be everyone’s hero, but you matter too. The world filled with villains is unfair and cruel, but for tonight, let’s keep it locked out there. In here, it’s beautiful. Can we make this beautiful?” 

You hold your breath as you wait for his response, searching his green eyes for an answer. But having you this close to him, Midoriya can’t think straight. He can’t begin to rationalize or think logically about the situation. All he can think about is wanting to claim you as his own and having you become undone beneath him.

“Th-that works for me-” he squeaks out. 

The second you hear those words pass through his lips, you’re back to kissing him. But this time, Izuku gives in and kisses you back, tentatively at first. You reach your other hand up to run your fingers through his hair, tugging slightly at the ends. He lets out a quiet moan in response, egging you on to repeat the action. 

He pulls away only to lead you into his bedroom. Gently pressing you up against his wall, Midoriya gets to work kissing your neck, inhaling your intoxicating scent as he does so. He’s under your spell, no doubt about it. And the sensation of his lips lightly peppering kisses up and down your neck is enough to drive you mad. 

“Don’t hold back,” you whisper, wanting to experience Izuku Midoriya let loose. “Make me yours.”

Your wish is his command as he swiftly picks you up and places you on his bed. He hovers above you for a second, admiring your raw beauty, shocked that a woman like you is underneath him, panting and yearning to be touched by him. He runs his shaking hands over your body, hooking his thumbs beneath your shirt. Looking at you for the go-ahead, you nod your head and allow him to begin to undress you. He presses hot kisses down your body till he gets to your pants. 

“Can I-”

“Yes,” you reply eagerly. “I’m all yours.”

He easily slides your pants off of you and quickly gets to work, unhooking your bra and taking off your underwear.

“You're overdressed,” you comment, tugging at his top. 

He blushes and chuckles as he shyly takes off his shirt, revealing his beautifully sculpted body. You run your hands over the planes of his chest, feeling his many scars beneath your fingertips. He starts to shrink away, obviously embarrassed by the marks, constant reminders of times he went too far or failed to keep a villain at bay. But before he can pull away too much, you grab and pull him close to you so that he’s practically laying on top of you. Rather than assuring him with words, you kiss him tenderly, showing him just how much you adore and worship him. 

He smiles before standing up to remove his pants and boxers. You lick your lips as you watch him strip, eagerly awaiting what he holds in store for you. He grabs a condom out of a dresser drawer and slides it on himself. And once he’s completely naked in front of you, you beckon him towards you, loving the way he mindlessly follows your instructions. 

Midoriya climbs back on top of you. He gazes at you as he awaits direction on what to do next. Taking charge, you gently guide his hand down to your cunt. 

“A-already so wet for me?” he asks, seemingly unable to comprehend the effect he has on you.

You help guide his fingers into you, the sensation making you gasp. “This is what you do to me.” 

He begins to pump his fingers in and out of you, relishing in the way you moan at the sensation. As he curls his fingers inside of you, he uses his thumb to graze over your clit, seemingly playing your body like an instrument that he’s mastered. 

“Izuku,” you whine. “I want to feel you inside of me.” 

Midoriya smirks, seemingly gaining some confidence after seeing how easily undone you become at the mercy of his fingers. 

“Patience,” he says, chuckling. “I want to make you feel better than you’ve ever felt.” 

With that, he quickly replaces his fingers with his mouth. You gasp at the sudden sensation of feeling his mouth between your legs.  

Izuku begins flicking his tongue against your clit as you moan at the intense pleasure. It feels amazing, better than it has any right to feel. But you haven’t touched him yet, and that just won’t do. You pull his face up to kiss him so you could return the favor and start stroking him, smiling at the way his breath hitches when you begin to pick up your pace. 

“Fuck me,” you beg. “Please.”

With your voice sounding like that, begging like your life depends on his cock being inside of you, you don’t need to tell him twice. His lips meet yours as you feel him line up to your entrance. He slowly slides into you, and both of you let out a gasp. After allowing you to adjust to his size, Midoriya begins to slowly rock his hips.

“Mmmm,” he moans. “You feel so perfect.”

“Izuku,” you say breathlessly. “Harder. Fuck me harder.”

You hear him grunt in response as he picks up his pace, thrusting into you harder, fucking you into the mattress. 

At that moment, you don’t care about villains or death threats or even being a hero. You’re in bed with Izuku Midoriya, and he’s moaning and whispering sweet nothings in your ear as he makes you feel like the only girl in the world, nothing like the dead girl walking you felt like at the start of the night. 

His hips start stuttering and you can tell by his breathing pattern in your ear that he’s coming close to finishing. Just the thought of Midoriya finishing inside of you is enough to start to push you over your own edge. 

“Izuku!” you scream. 

“Louder,” he says roughly in your ear. “Please. Say my name louder.”

You do as he commands, screaming his name as he slams into you.

“F-fuck, Y/N, you’re amazing,” he breathes.

Hearing the naive Izuku Midoriya curse and saying your name as his cock is buried deep inside of you is enough to make you finish. Waves of pleasure rock through your body, and the sensation of your pussy pulsing around his cock sends Izuku over the edge as well.

He gently pulls out and lays beside you, the two of you breathing heavily. Izuku looks over at you and can’t help but be entranced by the blissed out look on your face. He would hate to admit it, but he’s imagined before what a sight you would be after sex, but nothing compares to the real thing. You’re positively glowing. And why wouldn’t you be? The fears of villains, ominous notes, or your fleeting morality seem miles away from you now. Izuku has effectively made the whole town disappear, and all that’s left is a satisfying ache between your thighs and a smile on your lips. It’s beautiful. 

[fallowdoe]

All roads lead to hell

MC gets kidnapped and has to make their way through Hell to reunite with everyone.

GN!reader x everyone (can be treated as platonic/romantic)

Trigger warnings for this chapter: touchy religious themes, death

I apologise for the quality of writing however this is a translated version of my fic.

If anyone is interested in that I was listening to Dr. Fletcher and the World, the whole Split soundtrack is my big inspiration for this story. I’d advise onto playing it in the background while reading.

Tags: @kashasenpai​ @lamemexicant​ @lana0937

⇐  Chapter 3 - The Door  ⇒

”Limbo?” They stuttered.

The man in front of them had a soothing look on his face. Something about being in his presence felt incredibly calming. A warm, gentle light was radiating from behind him.

”Limbo is the first circle of Hell. We’re in the castle which houses the seven gates.” His silvery voice echoed through the building.

”Circle… You mean Dante?” Something about the stranger felt almost familiar. 

MC couldn’t exactly tell why but their gut was telling them that he was trustworthy. It was almost like he radiated all of that calmness.

”Something like this.” He smiled.

”But I don’t understand. Why am I here? What happened?” They rambled. ”And… and who are you?”

Only now they noticed that the way he was dressed resembled how Luke and Simeon did. The stranger had light-brown braided hair and was quite tall. His silhouette seemed to be entailed with light. White and golden robes were sprawled around his feet.

”My name is Micheal. I hope I did not startle you.” He gave them a kind smile.

”I don’t think I could be anymore scared.”

”I am terribly sorry that we meet in these circumstances.” He spoke softly while gazing at them. ”And even more – I am sorry that you are here.” He gestured around the hall.

They took a quick glance across the room but it was empty. On the other hand, the conversations didn’t stop filling their ears. All the words flowing through the room were a little distracting but now the knowledge of their origin lifted their spirit up a bit. Every single information about this place seemed to ease their mind and slowly all the puzzles were coming together.

”I… I keep hearing voices. Who are they?” The fright filling their voice made the man scrunch his eyebrows. This shouldn’t be happening and he couldn’t fix it which filled him up with frustration.

”You can hear souls who reside here. They for a change only can see you. I imagine it must be confusing for you, however, I need you to focus now. This is the castle of seven gates, each one of them represents one of the seven heavenly virtues.” He explained. ”I have no idea who or why brought you here but I will do everything I can to help you get out.”

”How do I return to Devildom? To them?” They spoke quietly. Their throat was sore from all the previous sobbing.

MC was to occupied to think about it previously but now they realized that everyone must’ve already noticed that they’re gone. Mammon and Beel probably searched for them after they didn’t come back. They weren’t sure how much time had passed but it must’ve been at least a few hours. Were they looking for them? Would they save them? Mammon was probably blaming himself…

”You will have to go through all nine circles of Hell to reach Devildom.” He said after a second.

”Me? Alone? But that’s impossible! Isn’t there another way? Maybe Lord Diavolo can help me? Or Lucifer? Or anyone?” They pleaded with a shaky voice.

”If it was an option I would’ve notified them immediately. Despite our… personal conflicts, your safety remains an important matter to me as an angel.”

Having a random human sent to limbo was… unusual and definitely not in his favour. Wherever they would go after their death, their presence here was concerning. No human had a key to the first circle, therefore the perpetrator must’ve been a powerful demon. But why send a living human here? Unless it wasn’t a random pick…

”But… How am I even supposed to do that?!” MC’s question brought him back from his thoughts.

”Follow me. I’ll show you.” He stepped further into the chamber with MC following, the orbs peacefully floated behind them. ”You see if there existed a possibility of having anyone help you I promise you’d be back to Devildom already. But there isn’t. I can only go as far as the first circle since this is the heavenly castle. But next levels… Nobody but souls are capable of going there. I can’t take you to purgatory or any other realm, so you are trapped in Hell. The only way seems to be going down, through all nine circles. Then you’d be able to reach Devildom.” Fear filled them again as he spoke. ”I don’t want to be dishonest with you MC…” Micheal hesitated. ”Crossing the nine circles is no easy task. It’s almost impossible.” He watched their face darken. ”I will provide some aid, but I can’t do much.” He trailed off. In all of his angelic glory and power, now, in front of a terrified human, he had to admit that he couldn’t help them. It wasn’t fair for them to be here.

”What am I supposed to do?” They took a deep breath trying to steady themselves.

In front of them rose a giant glass door.

”Nothing. Like it has never happened.” Solomon concluded. He and Satan just arrived at Diavolo’s castle after checking RAD multiple times. They cast countless spells to help them find at least a single trace, but all for nothing.

”That’s impossible. Surely, no one is capable of magic this powerful that it leaves no trace.” Lucifer was quick to argue. He sighed and scrunched his face, a headache was troubling him for a few hours now.

”If you want to you can go see yourself. I’d rather not waste any more time on what we already know. RAD was empty. There are no traces or trails of anything. We better start searching for a solution rather than the cause.” Satan’s temper was getting better of him. He couldn’t believe how easily Lucifer was taking the whole situation. His worry seemed to only go as far as the exchange programme did, when everyone else, including Diavolo, was genuinely concerned for heir friends wellbeing.

”How are you expecting to find a one if we have no idea what is going on?” Lucifer was beginning to gro irritated as well as if Satan’s attitude towards him was any help.

”Have you found that spellbook?” Solomon interrupted them.

”Not yet, we already checked most of the library.”

”I could cast a searching spell.” He offered. ”That could speed up the search.”

”In here? Absolutely not.”

”Then you do it, Lucifer. Stop wasting time.” Satan hissed.

”What is your problem?”

”The problem is that you don’t give a shit about this whole situation! You don’t care about anything besides your work! You don’t care about MC or anyone else!”

”And what exactly is giving you such an impression?!”

”You have done absolutely nothing to help! Even Mammon’s worrying is more helpful than your prideful ass telling everyone to calm down! Now excuse me, I’m going to actually do something which will hopefully bring them back! It appears so that no one else will!” With that Satan stormed out of the room and left the castle.

”Shall we help with the search?” Solomon didn’t comment on their argument.

”Come.” Lucifer turned around and lead the way.

The library was settled underneath the castle. An enormous, round chamber was filled with many levels of bookshelves serving as its walls. Ladders and stairs were connecting the floors. Thousands of colourful volumes were lit up by candlelight generated by a spell. A crystal chandelier shone high up from the ceiling. Underneath there was a big, round table filled with tons of volumes and papers.

Solomon whistled at the sight. ”Impressive.”

”Indeed.” Diavolo agreed. He was standing next to the table and browsing through books laid on it. Every each one of them seemed to be a higher grimoire. Some must’ve been older than the demon himself. ”Spellbooks, grimoires, magic volumes from all across the three realms.”

”Alexandria?”

”A few. Why do you think we’re underground?” He answered not lifting his eyes from the book he was currently holding.

”Have you found anything?” Lucifer sighed.

”We have our suspicions.” Barbatos approached them carrying more books. Some floated behind him. ”Were any traces found at RAD?”

”No. It’s completely empty. If not for Mammon and Beel witnessing the charge we wouldn’t even know anything happened.” The sorcerer spoke while studying the items on the table. He noticed a few familiar covers. Single sheets of paper with magic circles on them took most of his attention.

Lucifer listened to them but the growing pain was too much of a distraction. He took a glance at Diavolo who put down the book he was holding. His gaze fell empty on the table as the Demon Lord must’ve been lost in his thoughts. He wondered who was this even possible that of all people, he, the future ruler of this realm didn’t know what went down at his own academy. Hell, it wasn’t that MC wasn’t already endangered just by being in the Devildom, but someone actually daring to do something like this and not being afraid of facing wraith of all of them… That, someone, was confident enough to do this…

”Lucifer?” The sound of Solomon’s voice brought him back. Everyone was looking at him, he must’ve got lost in his thoughts.

”Yes?”

”We were just discussing the possibility of reaching MC through the pacts they have with you and your brothers.”

”That would require a lot of preparations.” Barbatos mentioned. ”MC isn’t familiar enough with magic, they might not pick up the contact at all.”

”Either way I don’t think we have much choice here. Unless we find out more about the spellcaster or MC’s location we can’t do anything more. All we know is that they never left our realm and that they are alive.” Diavolo exclaimed. It wasn’t as obvious but his hands were tied there. He genuinely had no clue what could have happened to his exchange student. It was almost as if he was reminding himself that they have at least some information about them and their wellbeing.

”I’ll begin the preparations immediately.” Solomon confirmed.

”We have most of the ingredients and items needed for it here.” Barbatos mentioned. ”Should we go and get them?”

”Yes, once we’re ready we’ll fetch everyone and try our shot on it.” Diavolo decided.

Mammon was laying on his bed and gazing at the ceiling for an hour now. His empty eyes were trying to memorise every single curve, colour or shadow on it. He couldn’t stop thinking about them anyway, about how he failed everyone and how it was his fault. He was the one to protect them, and he was the one to lose them. What was he even thinking? It was so obvious that they weren’t safe by themselves! That’s the reason why he was meant to be there! To prevent such things from happening! His fists balled and his breathing was getting quicker as all these thoughts were spilling from him, the sadness and sorrow were marking the white sheets.

After Lucifer, Solomon and Satan left he couldn’t figure out what to do. The guilt overflowing him with every second was making him choke. He wanted to help. He wanted to help but he had no idea what to do. He wanted to help so badly. So he took their textbook and said he’ll put it in their room. He wanted to do something.

He didn’t even notice that he went to his room instead. So now the textbook was somewhere on his bed. He just tossed it onto it, angry that he couldn’t focus enough to do something so small.

The bed creaked softly when he moved to get it. He turned around and there they were. Laying next to him and scrolling through their D.D.D. Smiling at something they saw. He stopped and just looked at them with his eyes wide open. His hand slowly reached towards them.

”Mammon, check this out.” Their voice sounded so soothing. They handed him the device.

But when he looked down it was the textbook that they were holding. When he looked up they were gone. A plain sheet of paper slipped from between the pages and feel onto the sheets.

”This is the gate to the next circle. Lust – the second one out of nine.”

”What is it like?” They breathed out.

”Souls of those who reside there are… not peaceful at all. They’re serving a sentence I’m not sure what will you have to do to cross it but I know it’s possible.” His words echoed. ”I have no knowledge of what they actually look like, you’ll have to be prepared for the worst. Staying alert is crucial here, don’t let anything distract you.” His expression was pained.

”I want you to be honest with me. How hard is it actually? What chances do I have?” They were too numb to cry more.

”I don’t have enough knowledge to tell you this MC. It’s behind this door where the real hell is. I can only wish you luck.”

”Okay.” They whispered and tried to steady their breathing. ”I’ll go in.”

Mammon put down the textbook and instead lifted up the paper.

”It’ll be hard, no doubt. But it’s not impossible.” He reminded them as the door opened. Behind them was pitch black void. ”I’m sorry MC. I’m sorry that it happened to you.”

His words faded behind them as they stepped into the abyss.

”Lucifer! Where’s Lucifer!” Mammon screamed barging into the living room.

”Why are you screaming? He’s still at Lord Diavolo’s castle.” Asmo glared at him.

Him, Beel and Belphie were doing their own research while waiting for others to return. Leviathan left earlier mumbling something about marine. Sprawled across the floor were random books that they found in Satan’s room and the library.

”Solomon was wrong!” He almost cried out. ”That paper ain’t empty! Look at it!”

He carefully passed the sheet to his brother. It was now covered in different glowing patterns.

”Fuck…” Belphegor mumbled. ”Those are pretty complicated spells and summoning phrases.”

”We should go to meet others immediately.” Beel spoke.

Asmo scrunched his eyebrows. Something was oddly familiar about the patterns, but he couldn’t decipher them. ”Let’s go then.” He said and marched out of the room.

[spnfanficpond]

“China virus” is not a racial slur. Just cause you are anti-trump doesn’t make it one. You are just part of cancel culture and it’s gross that you would 1. Listen to someone who tattles on a member for saying something on their personal blog. And 2. You went on their blog in hunt of other “offensive” things. I know personally that said member is not racist or anything else that is so demeaning for you to say. Just cause your political views are different does not mean hate is required. The “I don’t like it- get rid of it” mentality of today’s society is getting out of hand. Pretty sure we could find offensive garbage on every members blog if we looked hard enough. I know I’m offended by all the nasty porn filled degrading garbage most writers put out, but I am mature enough to just scroll past. I’m sure my opening sentence offended you enough that you won’t read the rest of this... I await your hate filled response.

Sorry for the late reply, Nonnie. We wanted to make sure we were polite and respectful with our response.

1. ““China virus” is not a racial slur.”

Psychology Today and National Geographic disagree.

Reference to Covid19 as China Flu, China Virus or Kung Flu is a blame tactic and promotes a rhetoric that is harmful to Asian communities within the US and throughout the world. Furthermore, Asian communities the world over have expressed how hurtful this name is and how it engenders hate towards them. We don’t get to decide what hurts other people. They do, and they have, and they have told us, and it’s up to us to listen and adjust our behavior accordingly.

The virus has a name that offends no one. Why use the name that hurts people?

2. “Just cause [sic] you are anti-trump [sic] doesn’t make it one.”

Since the member who made the post did not mention who they voted for, it’s hard to argue that this is why we’ve done anything. Furthermore, since none of the admins here have discussed politics on this blog, what evidence do you have of who or what we support politically?

Besides, there’s nothing political about fighting racism, whether that racism is conscious and malicious or not.

3.  “You are just part of cancel culture....”

Actually, cancel culture is part of what we’re trying to keep out of the Pond. We are trying to promote positivity, not negativity. Love what you want to love. Shout about that love! Just don’t poop on what someone else loves if you don’t love it, too. That’s all we ask. Be nice to each other.

Cancel culture consists of active campaigns to turn the populace against someone. If you’re going to suggest that we are trying to cancel this person by kicking them out of the Pond, then I have to ask, who told you who it was? We didn’t. If we were on a mission to cancel them, we would have posted the original anon message notifying us of the problem, which included their name. We would have publicly shamed them and incited a riot against them. Instead, we kept their name out of it. There isn’t anything more we could have done to protect them while still addressing the issue.

Everyone has the right to say what they want. Everyone else has the right to not want to listen to it.

4. “[I]t’s gross that you would 1. Listen to someone who tattles on a member for saying something on their personal blog.”

We don’t stalk the blogs of any of our 400+ members. We don’t know what everyone is doing at all times. If someone wants us to address something from another member, they have to tell us it exists. Once we see that it exists, though, we have to act on it, whether we like it or not. It’s not fair to our other members, otherwise.

This was not “tattling”. This was someone coming to us because they didn’t feel comfortable with what they saw, knowing it was against one of our, like, two rules, and letting us know. Listening to them and acting on that concern is our job as admins of the group. Just the appearance of ignoring concerns caused us trouble in the past, because it’s our job to listen and respond.

This is what adults do. It’s why our society has court systems and newspapers. When one person is aggrieved, they tell someone, until something is done to fix it. “Tattling” is a word used by those desperate to stay out of trouble when they know they’ve done something wrong.

5. “ And 2. You went on their blog in hunt of other “offensive” things. “

Actually, we didn’t. The original message we received mentioned the racial slur and insensitive posts supporting anti behavior and either telling people, or using gifs to tell people, “to f**k off”.  

We then spent about five minutes scrolling and found exactly what we were told we would find. Definitely not a “hunt”.

6.  I know personally that said member is not racist or anything else that is so demeaning for you to say.

We never said they were racist, only that they used a racial slur. Even if the usage is “innocent” --not intended maliciously, but from ignorance-- it still needs to be addressed. We can’t correct our mistakes if we don’t know about them.

7. “Just cause [sic] your political views are different does not mean hate is required. The “I don’t like it- get rid of it” mentality of today’s society is getting out of hand.”

See above re: our political views.

We tried our best not to respond with hate. We tried to calmly inform them, and the rest of the Pond, that using hate speech is not tolerated in the Pond and set forth the consequences. The response we got was disrespectful, at the least, and included cursing.

As for the rest, see above re: cancel culture.

8. “Pretty sure we could find offensive garbage on every members [sic] blog if we looked hard enough.”

And we would hope that, once presented with the fact that they had said something hurtful, they would apologize and promise to be better in the future. Had the person in question done this, we probably would have reconsidered the expulsion.

We don’t want to be the Tumblr police, but we are the Pond police. We ask that our members be nice to everyone, and have, in the past, refused entry to some people who have filled their blogs with ant-whatever rhetoric. Depending on the level of hateful content on their blogs we have gone two ways: Some we have talked to, invited them to take some time to reconsider the content of their reblogs, and to re-apply in a few weeks or months. Some have been allowed entry, but told that we don’t like the hate in their posts, that we would prefer they keep their posts respectful, and to definitely keep it out of the Pond. Basically, they’ve had two choices: stop the hate or don’t be a member. Some have chosen to not be a member. That’s their choice. Those who have chosen to stop posting disrespectful anti-anything posts have joined and complied, to the best of our knowledge.

Our members are an example of who we want the Pond to be. We honestly don’t believe that asking people to respect others on their own blogs is that big of a deal. We’re not asking our members to love what we love or dislike what we dislike. We’re just asking them not to berate or diminish people who love what they dislike. Just don’t be hateful.

9. “I know I’m offended by all the nasty porn filled degrading garbage most writers put out, but I am mature enough to just scroll past.”

GOOD FOR YOU!!! Seriously!! This is exactly how we want our members to act! See something you don’t like? Just keep scrolling! This applies to ships, fics, and respectfully-presented opinions.

This does not apply to racial slurs or hate-filled posts intended to attack, demean, and/or hurt other people.

Using slurs or degrading language to hurt other people is not the same as disliking a ship. It’s a whole different ball of wax, and we will always treat it that way.

We don’t want a member to see something that is posted by another member and be personally HURT by it. We don’t know who sent the original message, but what if they were Chinese? Maybe the reason why they came to us was because one of our members hurt them by using a racial slur against them? We can’t let it stand. We just can’t.

10. “I’m sure my opening sentence offended you enough that you won’t read the rest of this... I await your hate filled response.”

Can’t say we were offended. Convinced that you were wrong, maybe, but not offended. We have tried to keep this as civil and respectful as possible. If anything came across hateful, that was not our intention.

We know you want to defend your friend and their values, which you obviously share. The fact that no one has reported you as having used racial slurs or posted hateful comments on your blog means that you understand where the line is in polite society and have chosen not to cross it. That’s really all we ask.

[multifics-canary]

Random fic

A/n: I wrote this randomly out of boredom. Yes I do ship the daminette thing, idk who started it but bless ya soul. I also wanna finish that supergirl avengers crossover fic. Also this sucks I'm sorry

Damian was used to lies. It's something that is taught at the league and something that protects his loved ones from danger. That doesn't mean he tolerates others lying pathetically around him.

Which leads him to his current predicament.

He was apart of an exchange program for Gotham university, and as one of the few who spoke French, was put in the program. Not only that, but in Paris there had been strange things happening. So his father decided to plan a family trip to investigate, par with the exchange program.

It was his 3rd week in the class. This particular class had the most akumatizations. In the short time they have been here, they found out Paris had its own heroes and villains. Previous videos showed there were 5 heroes in the day most of paris was akumatized. Two different heroes replaced others, but the main three had been the same. Ladybug, Chat Noir, and Abeille. Damian knew it was probably the same person as Queen Bee, but with a different outfit.

Back to the class, he wanted nothing more than end them for annoying him everyday. Some girl telling pathetically easy lies, causing most of the class to be enthralled with her words. There were about 5 people in the class who didn't believe her and the main majority bullied just one. He knew of the two blondes, both obviously being related to well known parents, and had heard of the two boys who made a comic book through his brother Tim. The last one however was a mystery.

The blue haired girl was nice, overly nice, but had a confidence not others notice. He's watched through the weeks he's been here, how she commands other classrooms to safety, before disappearing. This class never followed her orders, all of them thinking the girl actually worked with the villain, seeing as she's the only besides the male blonde, who hasn't been akumatized.

"I just don't understand! She almost destroyed my letter from my damibear, so I took it back home." The liar sobbed, hiding her face in her hands. A girl in a checkered shirt and glasses held the girl close, trying to calm her down.

"Rose, stay with Lila. I'll be back." The girl said to a little look petite blonde in pink, before exiting the class room. As much as Damian wanted to reveal those lies himself, his instincts told him to follow that girl first.

Silently, Damian stood up and followed the girl out. He turned the corner down to the stairs and stopped short when he saw the girl from before, standing over the blue haired girl.

"Marinette I can't believe you! Stop being such a jealous bitch! If you just listened to Lila, you would be on good terms with everyone. But no, all because of Adrien, all because she has a famous life, you decided to be--"

"To be what, alya." Marinette stands up, dusting herself off as dull blue eyes stared at Alya. Alya herself seemed a bit uneasy by the lack of emotion or raise in her voice. "Whatever Lila has told you, is not true because I got here 10 minutes before the bell. Not only that, we don't even cross paths. But you wouldn't know, given that you're such a great reporter." Marinette sneered, walking around Alya and walking away.

Damian saw the disbelief and rage in that dark skin girl's eyes and saw that she was about turn to hit Marinette in the face, when Marinette moved away at the last second, holding her hand. Alya paled at the interception and the fact that she was about to hit the girl.

"If this is how you've become, I'm not surprised that you were retired as a hero." Marinette said softly, Damian barely hearing. He saw Alya pale even more and began to shake.

"H-how--"

"I was there when Ladybug gave you and Nino the miraculouses." Marinette let go of her hand and walked away sadly, leaving Alya pale and shaking. Marinette walked up the stairs, and noticed Damian stare at her. She offered a small smile, going up to him.

"Damian right? Do you want to hang out with me and my friends during lunch? We're going to the bakery." She asked nicely, and Damian had a bit of a hard time saying no. But seriously a bakery?

"Bakery?"

"My parents own a bakery. We're allowed to leave for lunch as long as it's in the area. The farthest anyone can go is the park or the bakery."

"Makes sense. Very well, as long as you answer a few questions I have." Damian stated, earning a smile from the girl. Her eyes seemed a bit brighter than earlier.

"Of course. I'll see you later." He watched her walk away, his posture relaxed for the first time in weeks. Whatever has happened between the class, he knew he had to figure it out. Especially with the Lila girl being akumatized more than once.

He also has to notify alfred that he is spending his lunch with classmates. Damian just hopes that his brother's don't do anything stupid.

One can hope.

Random Tags: @the-wlw-cafe @mcgrathandwives @natu123 @imagine-lcorp @maribat-archive

[megaman-rewritten-au]

The Entirety of this AU

Blues was the first ever creation of the esteemed Light and Wily, he was built without a problem in his systems. After he built Blues, Light became the center of attention and the city wanted him to build bots to help out around town. So Light built bots and he created Rock and Roll after the bots to keep Blues occupied as Blues would often wander.

Then Dr. Light built the Robot Masters. However Dr. Wily jealous of Dr. Light's attention decided to steal them and reprogram them, Rock became Mega Man.

During this time another scientist named Dr. Eden made a robot after her old friend Dr. Light inspired her, she created Hope but however, Hope has a flawed system so she never gave up on Hope. Until one day, she finally had enough and decided to abandon Hope in the garden of her old Labs. She left Hope alone for 3 years.

3 years passed and Dr. Eden passed away leaving Hope with no closure, she was notified by Dr. Light about her siblings. Aayala, Travel Man, Celeste and Mitsuki. And her Niece Arielle, enraged by her abandonment and subsequent replacement, Hope upgraded her systems all by herself, even though this was very dangerous and went to find her "siblings" to exact her revenge. It was at this time that Wily created his own bots.

---

The AU takes place in Archie Comics and has a little bit of the games, however, mainly I’ll be adding several twists in the rewrite. This all will be posted soon. I occasionally will post art. 

FAQ: 

Q: Do you allow people to draw fanart of the AU? A: Yes, I do. Please remember to @ me. I’d love to see your work! 

Q: Where will the fanfic be posted on? A: Only on Archive of Our Own, I won’t be posting it elsewhere.  Q: Is this a ripoff of Recut? A: No, I never seen Recut, nor do I plan on ripping off anything, the only elements that the story has is Hope’s backstory being inspired by Spinel’s from Steven Universe.  Q: What distinguishes your AU from all the other ones? A: I’ve rehauled all the characters looks, and kept their personalities, so far the only ones changed in this AU is Elec Man, Mercury, Time Man and Blues. Elec Man has a unhelmeted look that is similar to my Gacha Club version of himself, Time Man and Mercury has limb enhancers (Much like old Peridot from SU) and Blues remained the same where he never ran away or had a flawed core. 

Q: Who is Dr. Matea Eden? A: Since Archie has Dr, Lalinde, I decided to create a scientsist as well. She is the creator of 8 or more bots, I’m not sure how much, most of them aren’t really like the Robot Masters, they are more like Blues and Roll in this adaption. Well I have these characters from oldest to youngest. Hope, Aayala/Aries, Travel Man, Ashley, and Celeste/Vega. Arielle doesn’t count. 

Q: Who is Arielle? A: Well, later into the fic, Aayala brings up a discussion to Elec Man to build a baby, they agree and Arielle was made, Arielle is like the daughter of them both. (They are dating. They dated before the fic was created)

Q: Why does Hope hate Aayala and her other siblings so much? A: She doesn’t really hate them at all, she just was mad and jealous at the fact that they weren’t flawed like her and wasn’t scrapped. 

Q: How did Hope found out about the others? A: Again, Light called the house phone and she found out after hearing it ring. She of course didn’t run towards it, but the voice mail played from the area where she was. So she heard it and ran to cry there. 

Q: How did Matea die? A: Her illness remains ambiguous, I’ll let the reader decide what she died from, it’s hard to see what illness she can die from, as there’s a lot and I have to make research and be educated in what causes them. 

---

Social Medias For The AU: 

Discord (RP Server): https://discord.gg/eB65wQPbTU Discord (Official Community Server): Coming Soon  A03: Coming Soon

[alchemist-shizun]

Darkness falls in time

Read on Ao3!

Word Count: 2,699

Characters: Deceit, Remus (minorly) and a new boy. (Ophis is Deceit’s pet snake gifted by the other sides)

Pairing(s): Either none or open to interpretation

Warning(s): Major character death, suicide, self-harm implication, one mention of knife, relapse, sort of panic attack, poisoning, blood mentions, pet death.

Summary: Deceit was failing and he wasn’t able to admit it to himself. What the others weren’t aware of was that it wasn’t entirely his fault.

A/N: OH BOY Y'ALL this idea came from this post my dear friend Lance made, and I thought why not make a sequel to “As soon as the curtain is raised”? You don’t really have to read the other one to understand this one, just know that Deceit went too far with trying to be accepted and all the rest of the sides ultimately noticed and helped him. Please be mindful of the heavy topics of this fic and stay safe. Hope you enjoy! Is this my take on the orange side who knows maybe not oops

✾

❝ Close your eyes, scoop the wind, dissolve yourself, ring the bells.

No matter how many times the thunder hits, I will go beyond the darkness while singing. ❞

Relapsing.

Worsening. Deteriorating. Degenerating. Sickening. Weakening.

Failing.

Deceit was failing and he wasn’t able to admit it to himself, let alone the others.

Erosion, a natural, gradual and undetectable disaster now applied to all the improvement he had reached in such a long time.

Useless steps forward against an enormous jump meters back, as if startled by his own progress.

His fingers trailed over his left cheek, barely brushing the uneven path his scales left; normally when he did that, Ophis would appear between his hands in all his grace, reminding him how blindingly charming snake skin looked with his bright yellow pigment.

Were he able to move in that particular moment, he would’ve checked on him.

Instead, his eyes seemed to widen from the perpetual frowning gaze and fixate on the rug.

Just like one of those alluring energies that pulled you towards an unknown destination, Deceit was unconsciously being dragged back into the dark pit of his own tragic fall.

Urgings of all kinds piled up on top of each other, resulting in nothing but chaos as he moved his eyes regretfully to his hands.

Held up at chest level, he could barely make out the outline of those trembling sunny gloves that he would have been able to rip apart into shreds at any given moment.

It wasn’t himself. It was that again. Testing and trying him so that could seek delight in his decadence.

Deceit parted his lips and focused all of his strength in his throat, forcing out any sound that could have made sense.

Which didn’t happen immediately.

Instead, a choking sensation pervaded his body and he forgot how to breathe altogether.

Not even gasping for air, he waited until he was so devoid of oxygen that he sucked in a short breath in a tick.

« Rem, » he knew Remus was on the other end of the couch, busying himself with whichever object he had previously created.

« Dee? » the duke had been eyeing him from that exact spot for a good minute by then, preparing for an eventual need of assistance.

That was the case, indeed.

Remus studied his friend’s complexion: his focus completely on himself, the realization that he was not going to steady himself without help. Deceit kept staring at his hands, the unstoppable visible shaking setting dread in his insides, all while hunched over himself.

He watched him meet his eyes with a careful movement of his head.

« Stop me. »

That was the cue.

Stop me, or I won’t be able alone. Stop me, or I will rip off the skin from my face again. Stop me, or I will scream until my voice is soar and I will hate myself.

Stop me.

Or I will regret it.

Dark Creativity moved, impossibly cautious as he laced his fingers around Deceit’s wrists in a loose lock.

Frantic heartbeats coming from the trembling side were all that separated them.

Remus drew ghost lines on the other’s arm, so to give him some sense of grounding reality; he pulled both to each other’s feet, beginning their journey towards their usual destination during severe episodes of relapse: the Imagination.

Roman and Remus had found their hangout place to be an effective solution, as futile as it could sound.

Despite it being the literal embodiment of unreality, it helped Deceit visualize his damaging memories and destroy them altogether.

Once they left the room, a young petite snake shifted ever so slightly in his aquarium: Ophis was used to being a comfort pet for the troubled side, but was always kept aside when the most urgent relapsing struck.

It was crystal clear already that Deceit hadn’t been doing well.

Ophis was there so he reminded himself of a daily routine, so he would feed him and check on him constantly and set himself back on track with his tasks.

Yet, in the last few weeks the days in which Deceit would forget to give the tiny pet his food would increase, he would carry through the hours without allowing himself a break to pet him for a while, sinking deeper in his melancholy state instead.

If only Roman had also given Ophis the ability to notify them when things were going downhill.

Even if he had been able to, he wouldn’t have probably had enough strength to do it: it wasn’t like none other than Deceit cared about him, but lately events had been so shaky and everyone was rushing to get Deceit to calm down, ending up with innocently failing to remember Ophis would get ill.

And getting ill he did.

The worst case scenario: he represented the deterioration his owner’s mind was being subjugated to.

Which meant ultimately that was only little time left before the inevitable.

Because of that, that destroyer of psyche.

In another side of the Mindscape, Remus was still leading his friend toward a worn-looking door he crossed everyday; he’d recall memories here and there, making sure Deceit was focused on the present reality.

« Go on, then, » once inside the Imagination, they stopped in the middle of nothingness. « Relinquish it all. »

Deceit hadn’t found it difficult the first time he tried to bend the landscape to his will, it seemed his willpower to recall disastrous events outweighed Remus’s own creative flow.

He had his eyes closed out of habit, preparing himself to the blight he’d caused.

« Uh … why is it all dark? » the duke called at his side, looking around himself for any of his usual ferocious creatures.

A reminded that was still there.

« Please no, leave me alone. » Deceit muttered under his breath, looking towards the sky in defeat.

« What are- Do you want me to leave? »

He looked at his friend, who had misunderstood who his interlocutor was.

And nodded.

Facing that alone it was, then.

Remus raised an eyebrow, unconvinced and hesitant as he headed for the door.

« Just shout something lewd when you need me. »

Deceit let himself chuckle. « As per usual, will do. »

Then Remus left.

Then he started running.

Ophis watched as the duke made his entrance with no trophy: doom hovered upon them as the snake remembered that everytime Deceit was left alone in the Imagination, his condition would unfathomably worsen.

« He said I had to leave. » he mused whilst pacing towards the pet. « It’s not like I don’t trust him, but this whole ordeal is kinda suspicious. »

Ophis watched with half-lidded eyes as Dark Creativity brushed part of his skin.

« But what do you know? » he shrugged. « I don’t think there’s anything dangerous in the complete nothingness anyway. »

The snake was barely able to keep staring at the bright green and pitch black of his clothing.

« This little guy seems sleepy, huh? » Remus took a step back from the aquarium.

« I’ll leave you be, too. »

Deceit had started running.

In the deepness of the obscurity left by his mind’s amalgamation of perceiving and memories, now become the reality around him, he slowed only once a moonlit spot sparkled between what appeared to be leafless trees blackened by trauma.

He halted to look around himself multiple times.

« What do you want?! » the desperate called out at the sky, hands curled into fists as his arms were slightly raised. « Just tell me what you want and leave me alone, please! »

Low chuckling came thundering like an ancient deity upon preying a hopeless faithful mortal.

Deceit shook his head, holding it between his hands only to glance back at the dark clouds descending before him.

An anthropomorphic figure he recognized all too well distinguished itself from its smokey frame, two arms crossed over a chest, a finger tapping eagerly.

An open-mouthed mischievous grin embellished the ever-changing shape of that face.

Two eyes opened and a pair of orange, almost golden irises pierced through Deceit, as bright as the incandescent steel of a soon-to-be weapon.

His feet touched the ground, sizzling the grass until it disintegrated in grey ashen particles, becoming one with the trail of obsidian mist left behind every single inch of his outline.

He looked like he was about to fade away at any given moment.

Deceit had already been wearing a worn expression by the time he approached, leaving the air heavy around them, as if a bubble of destruction had just encaged them.

The figure widened its smile.

« Get out. » the side muttered, finding breathing an overbearing task all of a sudden. « Why are you finding this so funny? Just- get over yourself! »

He stepped forward until only a few inches separated them, chuckling again as fingers acuminated like a knife cupped Deceit’s face, cutting his cheeks with evanescent fog.

« Oh, angel, you know I can’t simply do that, »

« Don’t call me that. » the side lowered his eyebrows, squinting.

« There’s no fun in waiting around … Why not just strike at once every now and then? » a fabricated pitiful gaze met disgust. « You know how I am, after all. Who I am. »

« I’m tired of playing your idiotic games, » Deceit leaned in with venom on his tongue as he sputtered out his name. « Decay. »

Decay made a sound in the back of his throat. « And yet you seem to still fall for them. How peculiar. » he let his arms fall to his side, eyes lingering on the other’s face as the black vapour left his cheeks gradually. « Why? » taking a step backward, his voice grew louder. « Can you not resist me, angel? » a lopsided smile framed his last word.

« You know exactly the reason why. You’re doing dirty work you’re not supposed to out of spite. » Deceit referenced in his mind the countless times his conditions had kept decreasing to a point of no return, especially when he had started picking at his scales, months prior.

And Decay knew that.

Because he had been the cause of it all along.

« You know, sometimes I don’t understand. » as he paced around the side, anything he touched dissolved into the void of non-existence. « You’ve been rejected, and I was, too. »

That had happened a long time earlier.

Decay had strived for so long to become a side, but never succeeded as his sole purpose served as a mean of deterioration of Thomas’s mind. His actions had been purely destructive and they had to keep him at bay to protect the entirety of the Mindscape and Thomas’s brain itself.

His was one of those overwhelming powers not even he could control, or rather, he didn’t want to control them; destruction was something that needed to be slow and progressive, while Decay was not one for patience at all.

They made him let off steam by keeping him in the Imagination and having the two Creativities deal with him, letting him damage catastrophically anything they built.

Remus was the best at keeping up with him, but there were times in which both he and Roman came back from their encounter absolutely devastated, pushed over their limit.

It was then that Thomas was the most stressed out, so they all teamed up to make sure they would get some rest and a break.

But Decay would eventually come back, eager to unleash his energy even stronger than before, getting worse by the days.

None of them would have been able to stand a chance against him in the long run.

And now, tired of the monotone fights with Roman and Remus, he decided to strike his blow on Deceit, making only him pay for the grudges he held against all of the sides.

« So I wonder … » he stopped to rest an arm on Deceit’s shoulder, who believed for a moment it would fall right through him.

He felt his clothes almost burning, Decay’s eyes stabbing the side of his face, pleading to be taken into consideration.

« Why are you still in my way? »

Deceit bit the inside of his cheek, fighting the self-destructive urges such closeness with the other caused; were he to move, he would have fallen to his knees.

« Our circumstances differ for one detail: the only reason why I’ve been “rejected”, as you put it, is because of a misunderstanding between me and Thomas, which I will resolve in due time. »

« Yeah, that’s it. » Decay’s fingers dug in his skin. « Is that the line you learnt by heart to appease yourself? » it felt like Deceit’s own venom had started circulating in his thoughts instead of his blood. « Is that what you tell yourself everytime a hint of doubt crosses your mind? » the pitiful tone came back.

Decay chuckled and placed a hand on Deceit’s left cheek. « Oh, angel, » he carefully moved his head so the other looked at him. « It doesn’t work like that against me. »

All Deceit wanted was to push him away, yet he hurt all over, so all he could fathom to do was comply to that tedious monologue and refrain from punching that delicate face that was way too impending on himself.

« You of all people should know that lying isn’t necessary in this situation. So why do you keep trying? »

« Can we skip this futile blabber and get to the point already? »

« How long has it been since you started trying to convince yourself you might make it? »

Deceit shuddered. « Shut up. »

« They accepted Remus before they even considered you. »

« Shut up. » he curled his hands into fists at his sides. « I’m not falling for your trap again. »

« Oh, are you sure about that, angel? » Decay stepped aside to stare him down: he was met with a trembling body, as shaky as a winter’s leaf, eyes about to spill some tears and mind on the verge of a serious breakdown.

Decay was surprised he had endured his presence that long.

Two different coloured irises bored into intensely orange ones, between fear, determination and the will to wreak havoc.

« Yes, » Deceit turned, finally faced him, and focused his strength on lifting one of his arms to grip at Decay’s shoulder. He remembered they were in the Imagination, which permitted him to bend it to his own will, too.

« Want to know why? »

At once, Decay’s misty presence became a perfectly distinguishable body and, as he was too busy being astonished and looking at his solid self, Deceit opened the button on one of his gloves and brought his wrist to his teeth the moment Decay’s glance fell back on the side’s face.

Ophis felt it.

He knew when Deceit dipped his teeth in his veins and let the venom pour and infect his blood, he knew when Deceit squeezed his eyes shut like it was all an ineffable nightmare.

He knew when they were both about to die.

So Ophis let himself rest in his lonely aquarium, while Remus was sharing his doubts with Roman in the other living room, unknowing.

« Because, »

Decay’s disbelief didn’t falter as Deceit reached him, his feet slithering on the disintegrated grass.

The side portrayed a tight lipped sad smile, but with a hint of triumph.

« I’m taking you down with me. »

Deceit pulled Decay’s arm to his mouth, stabbing his skin open with his canines and crushing Decay’s own degeneration with the most catastrophic poison.

Black and purple painted their veins: wide eyes accused the snake-faced side, the same eyes that stared down at their owner’s newly acquainted body fading away into the wind the same way he had dissolved the grass around him before.

And when those same two eyes disappeared the way they came to be, for the last time, Deceit allowed himself to rest.

He fell to the ground and slipped into eternal slumber.

[hystericalweenie]

Just Another Day at the Office Series - New On the Job

George MacKay x Reader Series

Part Five: The Morning After

Masterlist

Summary: Y/f/n Y/l/n was job searching, looking for a new place to work as an escape to her, then, current job; she’d been denied every pitch she had, yet she worked her ass off with zero recognition. Writing was her passion and her dream job laid in the hands of a magazine company in the city. Will the combination of her sexual frustration and her competitive nature cause her to risk her biggest dream for a blue eyed coworker?

a/n: I have absolutely no personal experience in magazine/journalism career, so the information in this fic will be provided with the knowledge I have conducted from research. With that being said, please don’t be mad if this is not accurate!!! Sorry this was late compared to my daily uploading, I’ve been very busy these past few days!

Warnings: This is a slow burn fic, their relationship won’t happen in one night, so if you’re not into that, check out some of the beautifully written imagines that you can most likely find under the george mackayxreader tag. I might eventually write some of my own too :P At least one person’s saying “fuck” and there’s some sexual! tension! up! in! here!

I opened my eyes to my dark bedroom. The darkness of dawn leaked through my curtains, reminding me of the misery that was Monday. I hadn’t slept well that night, too many butterflies in my stomach disrupting my slumber. George’s head rested on my chest, his cheek in contact with my revealed skin. He’d been restless, switching into many positions that night, but as soon as his head hit my chest and his arms slung around me, he didn't move a single muscle. I brushed my fingers through his hair, twirling around some strands. I heard him release a deep breath, before cuddling his head further into my chest as if it were a pillow. He reminded me of a child cuddling their mother after a nightmare in this moment, and I was grateful I was able to see another side of him, an innocent and youthful side to him.

I felt his fingers drum against my sides, notifying me that he was awake. I smiled, removing my fingers from his scalp.

“Don’t stop,” he mumbled against my chest, his voice soft and raspy.

My cheeks flushed as I brought my fingers back to his scalp, earning a delightful moan from him. My eyes widened at the noise, my mind immediately swimming in filthy thoughts, but I quickly forced them away, because it was certainly not the time for intimacy; he needed a friend to be there for him, and I was that friend.  

We laid there for a while in silence, my fingers tangling and untangling themselves in his locks, as I felt his warm breath against the skin of my chest. After these moments of bliss, my alarm on my phone went off, causing me to jump at the sudden interruption. I quickly grabbed my phone and turned the damned thing off, tossing it on the floor without a single worry. I quickly returned my fingers to his hair, as if nothing had interrupted our moment.

“As much as it hurts me to say this,” he spoke up, his raspy voice introducing itself to me again. “You need to go to work today, love.”

I groaned, watching as my fingers worked through the effortless blond waves.

“What if I just don’t go?” I suggested, my voice dry with exhaustion.

He lifted his head, turning it toward me as his chin rested on my chest, his eyes looking up at me. His lip had already started scabbing over, and his black eye looked more violet today, signifying that his face was beginning to heal. With his messy hair, his eyelids swollen with sleep, and his eyes looking up at me so innocently, my heart practically jumped out of my chest.

“Love,” he cautioned, his eyebrows knitting together.

My cheeks caught on fire at the way the word rolled off his lips so naturally, yet intimately. Love. I repeated it over and over in my head. I subconsciously pulled my bottom lip between my teeth as I stared down at him, absorbing his features as long as I could. I sighed, ending the moment, and removing my fingers from his hair.

“I need to, uhm, get ready,” I stammered, looking down at him.

He rolled himself off of me, reminding me of what it felt like without the weight of a six foot tall man sprawled on top me. I stood up from the mattress, stretching my body–moaning a little too loudly while doing so–and walking toward my bedroom door. I turned around, watching as George stayed in my bed with his hands behind his head, observing me.

“Do you want coffee or breakfast?” I offered, as he stared back at me.

“Are you going to cook me breakfast?” he joked, cracking a grin.

I rolled my eyes at the man.

“Coffee, it is,” I called, exiting the bedroom, biting back the smile that threatened to make its way onto my lips.

I started the pot, leaning on the counter as I waited for the machine to spew the liquid. I heard footsteps, making me turn around. Bree yawned, her mouth mimicking a lion’s roar. I smiled at her blond hair sticking out in multiple directions, her morning frown greeting me as she got her favorite mug out of the cabinet.

“Can you get two mugs out for me?” I asked her mindlessly, my eyes focusing back on the coffee machine.

“Two? You mean, on–” she stopped herself, her head whipping to me with wide eyes.

I looked back at her expression, visibly trying to hide my smile, as her jaw dropped to the floor.

Is George in your bedroom? she mouthed to me, her hazel eyes as big as could be.

I nodded slowly, causing her to jump up and down, looking as happy as I’d ever seen her in the morning. She realized what she was doing, before pouring herself a mug of coffee and quietly slipping back into her bedroom, mouthing a sorry. I rolled my eyes playfully at the girl, pouring two mugs of my own.

“How do you take your coffee?” I called to the boy, as I opened the refrigerator to retrieve the creamer for myself.

“Black,” he answered, surprising me with the closeness of his voice.

I turned around, watching as he pulled a seat out for himself at the small kitchen table, before sitting himself down. I handed him the steaming mug, before adding cream and sugar to my own. Closing the refrigerator with my foot, I took a seat next to him and sipped on the hot morning bliss, ignoring how it burnt my tongue.

“Dean and I called out of work yesterday,” he spoke up. “We’re hoping to see if we can convince Andrew to go to rehab.”

I furrowed my eyebrows at him, worrying that his plan might cause a repeat of what’d happened the night before.

“Are you sure that’s a good idea?” I proposed.

He nodded, taking another sip from his mug.

“Dean's there right now. He said that they’ve put him under some medications that’ll hold him off for a while.”

I reached my hand out, gently resting it on his shoulder as I looked at him with concern.

“I just want you to be okay,” I admitted, my eyes scanning over the bruised eye.

He put his hand over mine with a small smile, his eyes softening.

“Thank you, love. I mean it.”

The sounds of footsteps interrupted us, as Bree walked toward the refrigerator with a sheepish smile.

“I forgot cream,” she apologized.

I rolled my eyes at her, gesturing out toward the small blond girl.

“George, this is my roommate, Bree. Bree this is my, uhm...”

What was he? 

“Coworker,” George corrected, reaching his hand up to form a small wave to the girl. 

Was that all he thought he was to me? A coworker? My roommate and I exchanged anxious eyes, as if we were both thinking the same thing.

“I’m the guy that gave Y/n a place to crash that night at the bar,” he introduced, his tone sounding...almost, protective. 

Bree scratched the back of her neck, still feeling guilty.

“Yeah, thank you for that, by the way,” she looked at him sincerely. “I’m still upset with myself for doing that to her.”

I looked at her, shaking my head.

“It’s fine, I already told you,” I insisted, bringing my mug up to my lips and gulping the energizing liquid. I wrapped my hands around the mug before standing up from the chair. “I should probably go take a shower,” I announced.

“I should probably get going as well, I need to clean myself up and meet Dean at the hospital,” George informed me, standing up from his chair as well. 

“Do you need a ride?” I offered.

He shook his head.

“Nah, I drove here. Hopefully my car’s still outside, if it hasn't gotten towed yet,” he joked.

I nodded, making my way to my bedroom to grab the pool of clothes that sat on my floor, before he’d changed into the comfier fabrics. I returned back to the kitchen, holding them out with his shoes. 

“Don’t want to forget these,” I reminded him.

He nodded, taking the clothes and making his way to the door. I followed him quickly, catching his attention.

“Can I, uh, walk you to your car?” I asked sheepishly, chewing on my lip.

He cracked a small smile, nodding. We silently made our way down the stairs, just like we had when I led him to the apartment earlier; there were no sounds, except for the echoes of our footsteps. We walked outside, the cold air surprising my warm skin as I hissed. His car had been still parked against the sidewalk, a little further down from where I’d found him sitting the night before. Once we reached his car, he turned toward me.

“Thank you,” he told me sincerely. “You took very well care of me last night, when you had absolutely no reasoning to.”

I shrugged. “I owed you one.”

He furrowed his eyebrows, as he looked down at me with a concerned expression.

“Is that the only reason why you took care of me last night, no questions asked? Because you owed me a favor?” he interrogated.

I was shocked at his question, my cheeks heating up and my eyes widening in surprise. I looked up at him, chewing on the skin of my bottom lip before answering. What is the point of lying again, I asked myself. 

“I took care of you, because I wanted to,” I admitted. “When I saw the texts you sent me last night, I was so worried, I literally got my slippers on and ran out of the building as quickly as I could to find you.”

His eyebrows knitted together and his eyes softened, as he looked at me with admiration. 

“Y/n, I don’t think you’re aware of what you’re doing to me,” he confessed. 

I tilted my head in confusion, but he gave no further explanation. 

“Go knock ‘em dead at work. Text me at lunch?”

I blushed at his words of encouragement and the fact that he wanted me to text him on my lunch break. 

“Of course,” I promised him.

He reached for my hand, pressing his lips to the skin, before releasing it and entering the driver’s seat of his car. My body was frozen, completely paralyzed at the feeling of his lips against the back of my hand. He drove away, sending me a wink as he passed. And I stood there, on the pavement, looking like an idiot. I don’t think you’re aware of what you’re doing to me, what the hell did that mean?!

I was almost late to work, because of that man. But, I arrived just on time, staring across from me at the empty desk. I sighed, forcing my attention on the document of my pitch, memorizing what I’d say to Connie when the time came. I looked at the new articles that’d already come out that morning, reading for my own entertainment to pass the time before the meeting. 

Once the inevitable hour passed, I made my way toward the conference room, this time without my brunette pal as my guide. Luckily, I was able to find the room, and I sat myself down next to Faith. She greeted me with a small smile, as I reciprocated her action and stared at the entrance of the room with anticipation. As more workers piled in, Connie stifled in with her assistant, making the butterflies in my stomach much more existent. 

“Happy Monday everyone,” she greeted us, her voice monotone. 

Starting with the beauty and fashion editors like the last time, my anticipation was building more and more as she discussed along the tables of the writers and editors. As soon as her head turned towards me, my heart practically sank to my stomach, her emerald eyes intimidating me.

“Print journalists? How about we start with you, Y/n,” she announced.

I cleared my throat anxiously before speaking.

“I was thinking about conducting an experiment with CBD oil, since that’s such a trendy product right now in the media, and I could write about it,” I explained, trying to exude as much confidence as I could under her stare.

She nodded after I spoke.

“That’s a nice idea, I’m surprised no one’s come up with that yet,” she admitted. “Try to work with a sub-editor on this, come up with some deadlines, and email me after. Anyone else?”

I smiled proudly at how well that’d gone. I looked forward to telling George about my succession on lunch, as the meeting flew by. Once I’d gotten back to my desk, I emailed Dean as soon as my fingers hit the keyboard.

Dean, Hopefully you have your email on your phone, because if not, then I’ll have to find another sub-editor that I actually like. Anyway, I have this idea for an article and I need your help to discuss deadlines and all that. Email me back when you get this... or actually I’ll see you if you don’t see this until you’re back in the office.  Thanks. Y/n

I sent the email, keeping the tab open in case he’d respond. I began opening a document and writing an introduction/hypothesis to the experiment. I clicked back on the email tab, sighing in relief as I saw a notification from him.

Hi. Wifi’s shit where I am, so this might not send. What’s the experiment? What did Connie say about it? Also, you don’t need to be so proper sending emails to me. We sent memes to each other, remember?

I laughed, recalling the memory when he’d asked me for my email on my first day. I typed back immediately.

Message has been sent to me, though you’ve probably already figured that out by now. Experiment’s about trying CBD oil for the first time. Yes, I’m a millennial, how could you tell? Connie liked it, she said I should work closely with a sub-editor and email her all the details once we've finished coming up with deadlines. 

I waited for him to respond, going back to writing again. After a few minutes, I received the notification.

Lol. I'm glad everything went well with Connie. Do you think four days would be a realistic deadline? Maybe take two days to write and research while doing the experiment, then two days for me to edit it and work with the art team for designs for the article? We can come up with a word count later. I’ll be in the office tomorrow and we can discuss this further. Just email Connie the main things and try to pick up and try that cdb or whatever shit up today. Srry if this sounds rushed, I’m a little busy right now.

I felt bad for intruding on Dean, as he was probably taking care of his friend.

I’m sorry for intruding on your day, just do what you have to do and we’ll work on this tomorrow. Thank you for everything you were able to help me with.

I emailed Connie right away before starting my research. I took important notes, cited some quotes to important articles online, and included some of my own pre-knowledge as well. I, then, looked at some of the best CBD products on Amazon, before settling on a roll-on oil and ordering it to the apartment, paying extra for a one-day delivery. 

Once lunch had rolled around, I made a salad in the small cafeteria and ate at my desk, pulling my phone out while I ate.

Me: Had a pitch today, it went sooo well. How are things with you?

He responded almost instantly.

George: That’s fantastic, Y/n! We’re at a rehabilitation facility, staying here while Andrew gets checked in. After this, probably going to go out and buy some groceries for dinner, maybe get some more ingredients for a recipe I can teach you.

Me: I would love that! Would tonight work?

George: As long as it does for you x

George: I slept amazing last night, even in that tiny bed of yours. 

Me: You make it sound like I sleep on a twin mattress.

George: A full is almost like a twin, right?

George: Did you like my big bed better?

Me: Considering I don’t even remember sleeping in it, I’m not sure. Remember, I woke up in that bed with absolutely no recollection of that night whatsoever. 

George: You would love my mattress, it’d practically swallow you up.

You know what else I’d like to swallow me up... Stop it Y/n!

Me: Are you sure you’re okay? With the whole Andrew thing going on...

George: Being with you helps get my mind off of it, so I think tonight is a good idea. I can’t necessarily say I’m okay right now, but I will be. He realized that he has to get better, and he’s finally taking the step to do that, and that’s already much more progress.

Me: Okay... If I can at least take your mind off of things, then let’s make dinner a definite tonight. I’m here for you, George, however you need me.

Did that sound too vulnerable? I wasn’t sure, but the more time George and I spent together, the less I cared about taking risks. 

George: That means more to me than you’ll ever know, love. 

When I got home from work, I took a shower to freshen myself up–despite having already taken one in the morning–before dressing myself in a tight turtleneck top with high wasted jeans and a pair of my favorite heeled leather booties. I styled my hair in waves before leaving the house and, finally, receiving a text from George with his address. As I drove with anticipation, I wondered what he was wearing, and maybe I’d overdressed myself. As I approached the familiar apartment, I parked my car behind the building before letting him know I was there.

He welcomed me within minutes, leading me up to his apartment. He was dressed in jeans and a maroon sweater, the color going well with his skin tone and hair. I wondered what would happen that night, as we entered his cozy, yet luxurious apartment. 

But, I had no idea what that night had in store for me.